The Forbidden Brother. Joanne Rock

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      Closing her eyes to banish the old demons, Jillian took a bracing breath. When she opened them again, she had to look twice.

      Because she could have sworn that out there on the street, in the rainy Cheyenne night, she saw Carson McNeill. Instantly alert, she craned her neck to follow his progress up the sidewalk. Decidedly handsome from the rear, the guy looked to be the correct height and build. His worn-in jeans were a feast for the feminine eye. His boots and his Stetson were the wrong colors from what she’d seen online, but a man could own more than one hat, couldn’t he?

      Jillian gathered up her tablet and maps and shoved them into her homemade cloth satchel. Finding a couple bills in her wallet, she tossed them on the table beside her barely touched wine. The server was getting one heck of a tip, since she couldn’t wait around for change.

      After darting and weaving through the crowd toward the exit, she levered open the door and stepped out into the rain. Just in time to see the fawn-colored Stetson disappear into a building a block up the street. She hugged her bag to her chest, wishing she’d taken the time to slip into her sweater. Cheyenne was windy on a good day, and during a rainy night, the gusts took on a brutal chill. Especially for a woman who still chilled easily. Sometimes she thought the chemo drugs would never fully leave her body.

      She reached the building where Carson McNeill had disappeared and saw it was another bar. Wrangler’s wasn’t nearly as busy as the Thirsty Cow, so when she stumbled inside, in a rush to escape the weather, the patrons seemed to notice.

      All five of them.

      Hank Williams was playing on the jukebox and the dude behind the bar, with a grizzled beard halfway down his chest, was no college student. The wiry old guy gave Jillian a nod and went back to pouring a beer for the only other woman in the place—a middle-aged lady dressed like a biker in a leather vest over her long-sleeved T-shirt.

      Wrangler’s definitely wasn’t the sort of joint where Jillian envisioned smiley, social Carson McNeill hanging out. But there could be no mistaking a man that good-looking. He was seated in a corner booth, and he’d just laid his phone on the table, flicking on the screen with his thumb before scrolling.

      Jillian didn’t realize she was staring until the bartender called over to her, “Have a seat anywhere you like.” He gestured with a sweep of his arm to the empty tables.

      Feeling silly for having been caught gawking, Jillian scooted into a booth across from her quarry. He hadn’t glanced up at her since she’d first walked in and she wondered now how it would feel to have those intensely blue eyes on her. Which was peculiar, given that she’d lost all her mojo where men were concerned.

      Part of that was her former boyfriend’s fault, since he gave men a bad name. But the majority of the blame belonged to her disease and the treatment that had left her feeling like a dried-out husk of a woman. She’d read the brochures on what to expect after dealing with her chemo and radiation, so she knew that feeling was normal enough, and as side effects went, it wasn’t the worst of them. After all, what did it matter if sex and men held no appeal when she was focused on her career and her recovery?

      But right now, stealing glances at the tall, well-built cowboy two booths away, Jillian could almost forget she hadn’t experienced deep physical arousal in two years. Because the man was intriguing. He wore a blue T-shirt under his gray-and-white work flannel, and she found herself fascinated by the play of muscle beneath the cotton. The edge of his jaw, shadowed with bristle, made her wonder about the texture and feel of him.

      Then, to cap off a night full of surprises, Carson McNeill glanced up from his phone and stared back at her. His blue eyes narrowed. A fierce, intensely male energy vibrated all around him. She felt the electric jolt from that single look on her skin, tingling its way over her arms beneath the featherweight sleeves of her blouse. Her breath hitched in her throat with a soft, startled gasp. She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away.

      A shiver traced its way down to the base of her spine. But this wasn’t the kind of shiver that came with a chill. This one brought an undeniable flare of heat.

      Her throat suddenly parched, she couldn’t speak. Only this time, it wasn’t because she felt like a dried-out husk of a woman. As she stared at a man who could hold the key to her professional future in his hands, she realized that her long slumbering libido had finally made a comeback.

      * * *

      For a moment, Cody McNeill wondered whether the lovely redhead seated in the booth across the way had mistaken him for his twin.

      His whole life, he’d witnessed women stare at Carson in just that manner—like he was the answer to all their fantasies. It was strange, really, since he and Carson were supposedly identical. To people who knew them, they couldn’t be more different. Even strangers could usually tell at a glance that Carson was the charmer and Cody was...not. It was in the way they carried themselves. The propensity to laugh. Carson’s easygoing, leave-it-to-tomorrow approach was a far cry from Cody’s belief that the buck stopped at his desk.

      But somehow the redhead hadn’t quite figured it out yet. She had been watching him since she stepped through the door of Wrangler’s. The local dive suited him, since the food was good, the beer didn’t require a dedicated menu and he’d bought the building a month ago to remodel for a more centrally located ranch office. Tonight, Cody needed a retreat from his family—mostly his twin. They’d been at odds for weeks over the sudden appearance of their paternal grandfather, a rich-as-Croesus hotel magnate from New York who’d disinherited their father over twenty years ago. Carson wanted to make peace with the guy, while Cody had no use for someone who’d betrayed their dad. The arrival of Malcolm McNeill in Cheyenne was tearing their already fractured family apart, and Carson had to make things worse by inviting the old man to dinner at the main house on Creek Spill Ranch. Technically, the property belonged to their father, Donovan, even though Carson oversaw the daily operations.

      That latest bit of disloyalty made Cody mad as hell. His twin was too busy having fun all the time to ever think about the consequences of his actions. Which, of course, was why Carson attracted the kind of wide-eyed attention the woman in the opposite booth was currently exhibiting. Carson said yes to every entertaining opportunity that came his way, whether or not it was the right thing to do. Normally, that ticked off Cody. But at this moment, with the vivid hazel eyes of an attractive female following Cody’s every move, he had to ask himself why he played it straight all the time instead of taking a page from his twin’s book. If Carson was here, he’d have the decidedly sexy stranger under his arm in no time.

      Between the dark mood hovering over Cody and the realization that he wouldn’t mind stealing away one of his brother’s admirers, he did something he hadn’t done since he was a schoolkid.

      He pretended to be his twin.

      “Would you like some tips on what’s edible around here?” He tested out the words with a smile. The expression was as fake as the pickup line, but he’d seen similar patter work for his brother a hundred times.

      Hell, he ended up sounding just like him.

      The grin gave the words the right amount of easy irreverence.

      But the petite beauty in the booth nearby appeared to be stunned silent. Although slight in stature, she had a powerful presence. From her warm, henna-colored hair to the vivid blues and greens of her butterfly-printed blouse, and turquoise cowboy boots that had never seen a day’s work, the woman stood out. She shone like a light in the darkened bar.

      “Edible?” The word was a dry croak from her lips, a belated СКАЧАТЬ