Roped In. Crystal Green

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       “Don’t make a sound,” the outlaw whispered, reaching under her dress. “Not a word…”

      In the haze of a dream—the aftermath of the fantasy she’d had before drifting off to sleep, one that seemed incredibly real—Nicki felt the outlaw’s hands on her rear end, cupping her.

      Don’t make a sound. And she didn’t as her face rubbed against her bedcovers, her hands pressed against the mattress. Her breasts were flattened beneath her, making them feel swollen, raw against the quilting.

      In that foggy dream, she felt the bed dip as the bandit climbed onto it, heard the box springs creak. His legs brushed the outside of hers as he straddled her.

      “You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” he said in a deep Western drawl, a whisper above the stillness of the night. He slipped his hands—big, work-roughened hands—from her butt to her hips, then…

      “You knew this is the only place I can hide out. You waited for me,” he said, stroking her softness until she was ready to scream.

      Yes. And he was definitely worth the wait…

      About the Author

      CRYSTAL GREEN lives near Las Vegas, where she writes for the Mills & Boon Cherish and Blaze lines. She loves to read, overanalyze movies and TV programs, practice yoga and travel when she can. You can read more about her at www.crystal-green.com, where she has a blog and contests. Also, you can follow her on Twitter at @CrystalGreenMe.

      Roped In

      Crystal Green

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Lisa Kessler and Melissa Cutler for the title suggestion, as well as all the wonderful authors in

      RWA-SD who came up with title ideas! You guys are the best organization a gal could hope for.

       1

      SHE WAS A REAL VISION tonight, wearing a purple corset, a boa and a ruffled satin skirt that lifted in the front to show off fishnet-stocking legs and ankle-high boots.

      A saloon girl who was made to draw every gaze in the room.

      And every time Nicki Wade caught a glimpse of her Halloween-party self in one of the mirrors of the Pine Junction Grand Hotel ballroom, she kept thinking, Who knew?

      “Told you,” said her cousin Candace as they waited for the band to start up again. “Can I cook, or can I cook?”

      Nicki cut her gaze from the mirror, smiling at Candace. Dress up. It reminded her of all those days when her cousin would stay on the ranch during the summer, giving her single, divorced mom a break. Like sisters, the same age with the same youthful energies, they’d spent rainy days in the attic, wearing old clothes, acting like princesses and belles, even though Nicki had been far from either.

      “I can’t complain about a makeover,” she said.

      Candace tugged on one of Nicki’s curls. “I did have some good raw material to work with. You were made for more than jeans and boots, Nic.”

      Not for the first time, Nicki touched the silk of her costume. Shiny as a rainy-day fantasy. Decadent as one of the heroines in the novels that had always drawn her to the corner of the second-hand bookshop in town—the ones shelved under the label Lusty Historical, where the women wore corsets and garters as a matter of everyday necessity.

      Candace linked arms with her. She was dressed as a sexy cowgirl, all in white, from the hat that covered her long red hair to the bikini top and chaps that revealed a body honed by her time jogging on the beach near the apartment she’d recently needed to vacate. As always, though, Pine Junction hadn’t been too far for her. It was about an hour from the San Diego shoreline, but a world away in attitude, tucked into the trees of the eastern part of the county, which was dotted with ranches.

      “So,” Candace said, “now that I’ve gotten you out of the Square W+W ranch office, it’s time to have some fun. Do you see anything here that you like?”

      Slipping her arm out of Candace’s, Nicki leaned back against a tall, linen-draped table littered with empty bottles and surveyed the room, but just as usual, the men didn’t much catch her fancy.

      There had always been only one guy who’d ever done that, and he’d left town a long time ago. He’d be a man now, not a boy, and not the seventeen-year-old who’d left after an infamous tear-down fight with his dad.

      Candace laughed. “I know who you’re looking for.”

      No use hiding it from her only cousin. Candace had grown up knowing all about Nicki, thanks to the letters they wrote when they weren’t together and the secrets they’d shared when they were.

      “You don’t have to say it,” Nicki said, fighting the heat on her skin. “Shane Carter’s back, and I can’t keep my eyes from the doorway.”

      “And he’s been here for two days already. All you had to do was go next door, bring him some welcome-home cookies—”

      “It’s not that easy.”

      “Sure it is.”

      Nicki shook her head. Candace knew how Nicki had spun a million fantasies about Shane. He’d been a couple years older, one of those boys at school whom everyone kept their eye on. Whatever he tried—baseball, football—he was good at, although he never showed much interest in pursuing any of them. No, standoffish Shane was far better at getting into mischief on and off the ranch.

      But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a heart beneath his bad-boy exterior. She’d seen it once, way back when she’d been about nine and had been playing around with Candace, using the fence that separated their properties as a balance beam.

      Just as they’d seen Mr. Carter and Shane riding up in the distance, that rail had split beneath Nicki, and she’d tumbled to the ground.

      She’d heard Mr. Carter yelling at her about ruining his property, just before Shane had jumped off his horse, making sure she was all right, then covering her as his father had approached.

      Both she and Candace had seen it—a standoff between a wiry, protective eleven-year-old kid and his livid father, who was said to have a terrible temper. And she’d never forgotten how a red-faced Mr. Carter had ridden off after giving Shane a look that said punishment would be in store for him back at the house.

      Without commenting on it, Shane made double sure that Nicki was okay, then rode off, too, the sunlight burnishing him as he took her heart with him.

      That was really when he’d become the prince in every fairy tale for Nicki. Then, after she’d graduated to more adult books, she’d pictured him as every hero, even as he’d become Pine Junction’s Romeo in reality, going from playing pranks in town to rankling just about every father in the area with his love-’em-and-leave-’em ways.