And thus my contribution to the Cowboy Heat anthology, Denim and Lace came into being. Well, sort of—
Several years ago, Margot Goodwin made a brief appearance in my erotic business romance, Cats and Dogs, when she offered a weekend refuge to her sister. She’s been patiently waiting for her story ever since. It’s also a good possibility that she’s merely been out shopping for that perfect pair of shoes.
Either way, Delilah’s call for hot cowboy stories made me think of Margot. You see, despite earning two degrees in mathematics, Margot is a hopeless romantic.
So I sent her off to Texas to visit her cousin. Forced her to listen to Country and Western music at the Hold ’Em Tight Saloon. And then I introduced cowboy #1—
“He’s not my cowboy,” she said.
“Yet,” Luella Jean murmured. “But I think that’s about to change.”
And Margot couldn’t help herself. She stole a glance past her cousin’s shoulder into the mirror behind the bar. She didn’t have to ask which cowboy Luella Jean thought was hers. He was already on his feet, scrubbing his hands across his jeans and, with one last look at his friends, sauntering toward her.
Even Margot, down on men as she was, had to admit he was quite a specimen. Topping six feet, his sandy hair could have used a cut, and he was way too young. Feeling all of her twenty-seven years, she downed another mouthful of beer—a beverage she was fairly certain the boy heading toward her wasn’t legally allowed to imbibe.
“Don’t you have thirsty customers to serve?” she asked when Luella Jean stood there with a front row seat for the coming show.
Her cousin made a pretence of wiping down the bar with the cloth in her hand. “Play nice now, you hear?” she said and was gone.
Margot drew a deep, calming breath. He was going to ask her to dance, and Margot had her answer all planned out. A polite, but firm, no thanks.
She wasn’t prepared for his voice, deep, full of Southern comfort—and confidence. She’d give him that. He held out his hand in invitation. It was large and calloused and without really knowing why, she hesitated.
Uh-huh, like she could fool herself. From his size-extra-big cowboy boots on up, he was a long, lean temptation in denim, pure and simple.
Still, that was no excuse to rob the cradle, even if she did appreciate all those gorgeously sculpted muscles just begging to be caressed beneath the washed-out blue. Then she made the mistake of looking at his face. His eyes were a really warm shade of brown and filled with the certainty she was going to turn him down.
She tipped the beer bottle back for one last drink and from beneath her eyelashes she watched as his gaze slid down her exposed throat to the cluster of silver hearts hanging from a chain around her neck.
The fact he actually smiled, and that he didn’t glance any lower, decided his fate. She plunked the bottle onto the bar and set her hand in his.
What was the harm in indulging in one flirtation-filled dance with a hot, young stud? A tendril of heat skittered along her arm as she allowed him to pull her onto the dance floor.
About the Author
When award-winning author Robie Madison is not traveling or writing, she can often be found teaching writing courses online. Robie is thrilled to be part of Cowboy Heat.