Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

Well, hell. There was reality again, trying to get the best of her.

She slid off the barstool and tucked her clutch under her arm. Unfortunately, it took a bit more effort to hold her head high as she slinked off than it had when she’d strutted in. “Thanks for the drinks, cowboy.”

As she walked away, she hit the speed dial number she’d programmed in earlier. She’d hoped to not need it. Elizabeth had come to Wade’s Saloon looking for action, plain and simple. Yet letting off some sexual steam was clearly not in the cards tonight.

“Hey, wait!” the Devil called out behind her, but she was already headed toward the door, determined not to become further fodder for the Wilder rumor mill.

Much to her dismay, when the dispatcher for the only cab company in town came on the line, she advised Elizabeth it would be at least twenty minutes before someone could pick her up—about the same amount of time it’d taken for to get picked up back at her cottage when she’d started this misadventure. She pushed her way through the small crowd clamoring for last call and shoved open the heavy door that led to the stifling Texas heat and humidity.

Wow, twenty minutes…

She swore under her breath, momentarily missing New

York and its quick escape from scenes such as this. A multitude of rapid ways in which to flee her own idiocy.

Then she thought of Peter’s betrayal, which had been followed by a desperate plea to marry him. She now knew that was merely necessary for him to perpetuate the façade he maintained. Adding insult to injury, her controlling mother had rented her apartment right out from underneath Elizabeth in an attempt to force her hand at Peter’s marriage proposal. Oh and she couldn’t forget the way her boss, CEO of one of the world’s largest industrial risk insurance companies, had thrown her under the bus over a corporate debacle that would cost millions to rectify. She’d provided her public relations expertise and crisis management skills, to no avail. After weeks of back peddling, he’d inevitably used Elizabeth and her PR department as a scapegoat to save his own reputation.

Alas, her love life wasn’t the only thing to hit the skids. The reminder once again made New York the last place she wanted to be.

Plopping her D&G-clad butt on a tree stump—a clever, decorative landscaping tool that could only be pulled off in a town like this—she tossed the phone back in her bag. Dragging in a full breath of thick, possibly jasmine-scented air, she decided it really was time for a new persona. A new Elizabeth Brooks.

No.

She let the air out of her lungs as she thought a little about what she really wanted. Who she really wanted to be.

She’d never liked Elizabeth, though it was what her mother always insisted she go by. What she needed now was something simpler, something less formal. Something friendly and inviting.

Beth Brooks? Liz Brooks?

Neither seemed to fit.

Her father had called her Liza when she was a little girl, with a drawn-out accent on the “i”. Until her mother had browbeat him into using her full name.

Hmm. Liza Brooks… She liked it.

Liza didn’t even realize she was smiling until she heard the molasses-laced voice of the Devil in Blue Jeans. “You’ll be waiting all night if you called a cab, darlin’. Only one in town,” he reminded her.

She all but fell off her tree stump at the sight of him. Staring up at his potentially six-foot-three-inch stature required her to tilt her head back. Way back.

Damn, he’s tall.

She blinked once.

And muscular.

She blinked twice.

And so very sexy.

She smiled brighter as her pulse kicked into high gear and her pussy started to throb again. He grinned back, dimple and all. The moonlight caught his straight white teeth as he spoke, nearly blinding her.

“Since I’m the one responsible for all those drinks you had, I thought I’d give you a ride home,” he offered once more. “Drop you off at the door, that’s it,” he added as he raised his hands in the air in bad-boy surrender. Yet there was a suggestive hint in his tone that made her wonder whether he’d stick to his guns. How disappointed would she be if he did?

Her insides fluttered at the thought of helping him break that promise.

It occurred to her that Fate wasn’t letting her fold this hand. Getting to her feet as carefully as possible, her gaze locked with his.

“A ride is exactly what I need,” she told him.