Montana Gold. Genell Dellin

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      He tried his charming smile again.

      “Look, Elle, all I’m doing is just trying to tell you how to read me when I’m on a bull. Trying to save you until I really need you.”

      She gave him a long, mean look, reassessing whatever it was that she’d originally thought of him, no doubt.

      But the hell of it was that her body wasn’t reassessing anything. Not one damn thing. It was still dancing on, as close to his, as in sync with his, as if they were longtime lovers.

      Insane thought. She was only a kid.

      He tried again to make her smile back at him.

      “It’s hard to run from a bull and look cool at the same time,” he said, grinning his mischievous grin. “What I need is for you to come in right when I start to run and distract the audience with your guts and skill.”

      She kept on giving him that look.

      “Since, as Robbie pointed out, you’re such a blur in the arena that they can’t be distracted by your beautiful face.”

      “You wouldn’t say that to a man bullfighter, either,” she said. “You may be a control freak, but you can’t control me with flattery.”

      He hadn’t defused her one bit.

      Lomax, get a grip. This is not worth a big fuss-fight and the resulting gossip. This is stupid. You should’ve kept your mouth shut.

      He smiled at her, trying to get back on the easy footing they’d had at the beginning.

      “I’m just funny that way,” he said lightly. “I like to hang on a little after the buzzer in case I’ve only imagined that the eight seconds are up. That has happened more than once, you know.”

      She scowled at him. Fiercely scowled at him.

      “You were in trouble when I pulled you loose, and you know it. Get over it, Lomax. I’ll do my job my way. I’m not going to have it on my conscience that you got hurt or killed when I could’ve saved your life.”

      Quick anger hit him. He didn’t even know for sure if he believed it, but he blurted, “All right, it is because you’re a woman. By nature, women are overprotective. Men have sense enough to know that if I get hurt or killed, well, that’s just bull riding.”

      Her blazing eyes narrowed to slits.

      “I know the danger. And I’m not overprotective.”

      “I hate to break it to you, Elle, but you can’t save everybody. Somebody’s gonna get killed and somebody’s gonna get hurt while you’re fighting bulls and it will not be your fault. You won’t have anything to do with it.”

      “And I know I’m not God.”

      “You don’t talk like it. You talk like a naïve, little-girl greenhorn out to save the world.”

      “Don’t ‘little-girl’ me, buddy. I may only be half as old as you are, but I’ve had more than twenty-four years’ worth of trouble to face up to and I know what my job is and how to do it.”

      “I don’t need a nursemaid,” he said. “And I am not twice as old as you are.”

      They glared at each other as the song ended but even when they stopped moving, their bodies wouldn’t part. They stood just as close together as when they were dancing, breathing hard and looking daggers at each other.

      Finally, Chase let go and Elle stepped back out of his arms as if she couldn’t wait to get away. She whirled to leave him but then she turned.

      “You can dance,” she said. “Sorry I doubted you, but with an old man, you never know.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      ELLE HAD FORGOTTEN how much she loved driving at night. It gave her that same feeling—or nearly—of being wrapped up in her own world that always came over her in the arena. But tonight, instead of her and a bull, it was her and Missy Jo, who’d just gone sound asleep in the back seat. They rolled on through the dark down a mostly empty Texas highway with Missy’s mares, Skitter and Shine, standing quiet in the trailer hitched on behind and Aussie, her dog, sprawled all over the passenger seat and half the console, riding shotgun.

      She reached out and turned the music up a little. Yep. Nothing like being in charge of the universe and feeling it in motion.

      Elle rolled the window down a little more. She didn’t care if her hair did whip around her face, she loved the smell of the wind and its power on her skin. For late March, she wasn’t used to the weather being so nice and warm.

      She flew on, shooting in a straight path through the dark endless space, with the dashboard’s glow the only light. Headed for somewhere new, another place where she wouldn’t have to stay. Another place she could leave whenever she wanted. This was freedom.

      She glanced at the speedometer and eased her foot off the pedal. No sense ruining a good run with a ticket from the highway patrol. When the needle hit seventy, she punched on the cruise control and shifted in the seat. Holding the wheel with one hand, she took her cup from its holder and sipped the coffee. Still hot, still fragrant. Per-fect.

      Los Lonely Boys were singing about heaven from the CD player, their voices soothing her mind and tickling her ears, rocking her in their rhythms.

      Heaven’s right about here. On earth, it won’t ever be any better.

      RodeoAustin had been a great one for her and also for Missy Jo, sleeping with a smile on her face. And now they were speeding toward the next arena, toward that eternal chance of an even more spectacular performance that kept all the rodeo cowboys and cowgirls on the road.

      Toward the ultimate thrill, that primeval gamble of life against death.

      That gamble that required everything the players possessed—skill, intelligence, wit, physical strength and agility. The game to end all games.

      What else could she want? She was one of the most successful players. She had a talent for it. A love for it. Making her every dream come true was definitely possible.

      One of these years, the top forty-five bull riders in the world would vote for her and she’d be working for the Professional Bull Riders. That was when a bullfighter knew he or she had really made it to the top—when the riders chose her to protect them.

      Oh, and she’d never forget Austin because that was where she’d danced with that bronc-riding legend, Chase Lomax. The small of her back arched toward the memory of his warm hand. Her whole body wanted to move with his again.

      The remembered feel of him flowed over her skin and brought his woodsy, citrusy scent to fire her blood.

      Maybe that was heaven, too, being in his arms.

      Heaven or not, it was a miracle. She might pretend to other people, she might keep secrets and lie or evade the truth all the time with them, but she had taken a vow not to lie to herself anymore, so she СКАЧАТЬ