Cherokee Baby. Sheri WhiteFeather

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      Julianne had worked in clothing boutiques since her teens, progressing from salesgirl to manager. She wasn’t exactly a fashion plate, but she had a keen sense of style, a knack for knowing what looked good on her.

      But on this nerve-laced evening, everything she tried on fell flat.

      “You look great.” This came from Kay, who sat on the edge of Julianne’s bed.

      “I shouldn’t have bought this. I’m too old for a backless dress,” she responded, criticizing her appearance in a beveled mirror. She reached for the matching jacket and slipped it on, hoping it would help. “I shouldn’t go braless anymore.”

      “Why not? You’ve still got perky breasts.”

      Of course, she did. Her breasts were too small to be anything but perky. She didn’t actually have cleavage, which is why Kay and Mern had talked her into buying that padded bustier.

      Maybe she should wear that tonight. Not with this dress, but with—

      “Too bad your nipples aren’t hard.”

      Julianne turned around to glare at Kay. “Knock it off. I’m nervous as it is.” She hadn’t worried about whether a specific guy would ask her to dance since her high school days. “What if Bobby isn’t even there?”

      “He owns this place, Jul. He’ll be there.”

      “I hope so.” She put on her cowboy boots, deciding they were the appropriate footwear for a barn dance.

      “You could use a breath spray.”

      As Julianne covered her mouth, Kay reached into her purse. “For your nipples,” her cousin clarified, handing over a small pump. “It’ll make them hard. I read about it in a magazine.”

      Julianne studied the mint-flavored spray, and when she glanced up at Kay, they both burst out laughing.

      Oh, what the hell? she thought, unbuttoning the front of her dress. She was out to seduce a man. And what man wouldn’t notice erect nipples?

      Mern arrived at Julianne’s door a short time later and the three drove their rental car to the entertainment barn, a building designed for dances, casual meals and parties.

      Guests were already gathered at rustic tables, sipping margaritas and chatting companionably. The chef had prepared an array of Southwestern appetizers. Julianne could see colorful trays garnished with tomatoes, peppers and cilantro leaves.

      The dance floor accommodated Western-clad couples swaying to a beat provided by a country band. The room itself twinkled with white lights, giving the rugged atmosphere a touch of romance.

      Julianne sat with her cousins and scanned the area for Bobby, and then made eye contact with a young man who smiled and came her way.

      He resembled Bobby, with his long, lean body and jet-black hair. A relative, she decided. A member of the Elk family.

      He stopped at their table. His skin wasn’t quite as dark as Bobby’s, but he had the same strong-boned features and rough-and-tumble appeal.

      “Evening, ladies.” He introduced himself as Michael Elk, then turned to Julianne. “You must be the good-looking redhead my uncle mentioned.”

      Stunned and flattered, she extended her hand. “Julianne McKenzie.”

      After they shook hands, he sat in the empty chair next to her. She reached for a corn chip and dipped it into a bowl of guacamole. “So Bobby’s your uncle?”

      “Yes, ma’am. And a damn good one. He gave up his rodeo career to raise me.” Michael poured a margarita from the pitcher on their table and handed it to her. “He stepped in when my mother died. I was thirteen years old, and full of pi—” He paused to rethink his statement. “Pickles and vinegar. I was quite a handful.”

      And probably still was, she thought, catching the dark, dangerous gleam in his eye.

      They talked for a few more minutes before Michael rose to mingle. “Enjoy the dance.” He smiled at Kay and Mern. “Try the sopes,” he said, pointing to a platter of small, ridged, pork-filled tortillas. “They’re my favorite.”

      Taking his advice, Kay reached for one of the Mexican appetizers. “Hunky,” she commented when he was out of earshot.

      “Just like his uncle,” Mern put in, nudging Julianne to glance toward the door, where Bobby had just arrived.

      Instantly she became aware of her nerves, of the girlish flutter in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she removed her jacket and placed it on the back of her chair. Suddenly she was warm. Much too warm.

      Bobby looked like a mirage, a masculine shadow of denim and leather. A buckskin shirt fitted across his chest and a pair of cowboy-cut jeans hugged his hips. A Stetson, decorated with a silver hatband, shielded his eyes, creating an air of mystery.

      “Did you hear that?” Kay asked.

      Julianne couldn’t hear anything above the pounding of her own heart.

      “It’s lady’s choice, Jul. Go ask Bobby to dance before someone else snags him.”

      Lady’s choice. That gave her a perfect excuse to approach him, yet as she made her way through the other guests, she wanted to turn tail and run.

      She’d barely taken a moment to breathe, to calm her schoolgirl anxiety.

      He glanced up and saw her, and she realized it was too late to skitter off like a jackrabbit.

      “Hi, Bobby.” She stopped in front of him, conjured a smile and tried to look more confident than she felt.

      “Hello.” His gaze traveled over her body, settled on her breasts for a millisecond and shot back up to her face.

      Julianne shifted her feet. He’d noticed her protruding nipples. The twin peaks she’d blasted with Binaca.

      “Do you want to dance?” she asked before she lost her nerve.

      When he stalled, she knew she’d made a mistake. Apparently he didn’t like forward women. Apparently the backless, braless dress had been the wrong thing to wear. Apparently—

      “All right,” he said.

      All right. He didn’t sound particularly enthused about holding her in his arms, but he’d agreed. To be polite, most likely.

      Mortified, Julianne decided this potential affair was a pipe dream. A foolish notion going nowhere.

      He led her onto the dance floor.

      And suddenly everything changed.

      Their eyes met and their bodies brushed, the music tempting them with a warm, slow, country ballad.

      He slid his arms around her waist; she put her head on his shoulder. And the rest of the world seemed to disappear.

      The twinkling lights СКАЧАТЬ