b-5c1e-9319-1cf01e338f2e">
“It’s going to be all right,” Lucas murmured against her ear.
Nicolette raised her head to gaze up at him, and all he knew was that she looked as if she needed to be kissed … badly.
Following instincts alone, he lowered his lips to hers, stunned when she tightened her grip around his neck and pressed closer against him.
She opened her mouth to allow him to deepen what he’d intended simply to be a kiss of compassion, of support. The kiss became so much more complicated than that. It stole his breath away. You’ve got to stop, a little voice whispered inside his head. Finally he broke the kiss.
It was as if she heard the little voice. She suddenly stepped back from him, her green eyes glowing and her breathing labored.
Before he could mutter an apology or say anything, she grabbed his hand, hers feeling hot and fevered. “Come to my room, Lucas. Come and make love to me.”
It never entered his mind to deny her. After all, a real cowboy never turned down a lady’s request.
A Real Cowboy
Carla Cassidy
CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. In 1995 she won an RT Book Reviews award for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series, also from RT Book Reviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Contents
Even two weeks after the tornado that had ripped through the area of Bitterroot, Oklahoma—and in particular Cass Holiday’s large ranch—the damage was still evident in the topless shed, the broken trees and in the very heart and souls of the twelve men who had worked as Cass’s ranch hands.
The tornado had not only damaged outbuildings and felled trees, it had also taken the life of Cass Holiday, the tough, sixty-eight-year-old owner who had been like a mother to the cowboys she’d raised.
As dusk swept the area, Lucas Taylor leaned against the two-story house’s porch railing. It was Saturday night and the rest of the cowboys had gone into town to drink away their sorrow and to commiserate with other people in town who had lost property or loved ones to the massive spring storm.
Lucas had never been much of a drinker and had volunteered to stay behind, knowing from the lawyer that Cass’s niece and beneficiary was due to arrive sometime during the evening hours.
Lucas wanted to get a look, a feel for the woman who would now be their boss. From what he’d heard about her, he wasn’t inclined to be overly impressed.
According to what they’d all been told, Cassandra Peterson was a struggling artist who co-owned a clothing boutique in the Soho area of New York City. She’d probably never seen a cow in her life, and Lucas had a feeling that she wouldn’t stick around long.
No doubt, she’d have the cowboys work to put the place back to right and then she’d sell it. She’d make enough money to never struggle again and could go back to her life in the big city. Unfortunately, that meant Cass’s dream and all of her hard work here would die.
The cowboys would eventually find jobs on other ranches, in other places, but the sense of community, the special bond of family they had shared here for so long, would be lost forever.
Pain shot through him. He remembered all too well what it was like to be alone, to be lost. He’d found a home here with eleven “brothers” and Cass years ago. Now at thirty-one years old, he didn’t want to have to start all over again.
Hopefully he was wrong. Maybe Cassandra would be thrilled with the inheritance of the ranch and want to work it as her aunt had and continue to build on Cass’s dreams.
It would be great if that happened, if she wanted to keep the ranch, live here and work it with the men who had helped to build it into the success it was now.
He straightened as he saw the faint dust rising up on the long dirt lane that led to the ranch. A dark sedan slowly approached, and Lucas’s gut tightened when he realized it probably held the new boss.
The car turned into the ornate black gates with the overhead sign that