Cait spread her fingers on his chest, over the thin, faded fabric of the hospital gown, loving the vibration of his heartbeat. “Earl did say one thing I liked,” she ventured after a minute.
“How soon can we make it?” Noah asked.
Laughing, Cait lifted her face so that he could kiss her. In the aftermath, as he nuzzled her, she said, “You do realize our wedding will be a media event? Hmm. Maybe we can sell the right to take photographs for some obscene amount like movie stars do.”
“I could say some obscene things about that,” Noah suggested.
“Um.” She nibbled on his lower lip. “I love you, Mayor.”
“Ditto, Ms. McAllister,” he said, and tugged her to lie fully beside him so that he could seriously kiss her.
* * * * *
Look for the next THE MYSTERIES OF ANGEL BUTTE story by Janice Kay Johnson.
ALL A MAN IS will be available in March 2014 from Harlequin Superromance.
Keep reading for an excerpt from A RANCH FOR HIS FAMILY by Hope Navarre.
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CHAPTER ONE
“OH! THAT’S COMING off a bull the hard way, folks, and that’ll mean no score for this young cowboy.”
Neal Bryant paid scant attention to the rodeo announcer and none to the disappointed cowboy dusting himself off in front of the rodeo chutes. Instead, Neal scanned the packed bleachers rising behind the white pole fence hung with banners for Wranglers, Resistol Hats and Justin Boots, searching for one face in the milling, colorful crowd from his hometown. A face that haunted his dreams—the face of Robyn O’Connor.
It would be five years, and he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. The ache of missing her, of knowing he’d thrown away the best thing in his life, never left him.
Would Robyn’s dark hair still be short? Or would she have grown it long again? He liked it best when she had it long. He remembered the way it felt in his fingers. How he could wrap his hands in it and pull her close. He loved the way it would spill like silk across his chest when they made love.
He’d heard from his mother that Robyn had married not long after she’d left him, but that she was single again. He should be glad about that, but he wasn’t. He wanted Robyn to be happy.
His mother and Robyn’s mother were neighbors and best friends. He could’ve made a point of keeping track of her, but he’d chosen not to. On his infrequent visits home, her name was off-limits as far as he was concerned. Robyn’s life was her own now. She’d made it plain that there was no place for him in it.
He gave up looking for Robyn in the crowd. It was a stupid move coming back. He hadn’t been to a rodeo in Bluff Springs in years. He wasn’t sure why he was here now.
Maybe she didn’t come to the rodeos anymore. After rolling down the sleeves of his blue-and-white-striped shirt, he fastened the snaps and then drew on his rosin-darkened leather glove. One thing Neal knew for certain, she wouldn’t come to this rodeo if she knew he was riding.
He gave his attention back to the rodeo. The smell of dust, livestock and popcorn filled the evening air as the carnival music from the midway spilled over the arena. Another bull and rider burst from the chute beside him and began their awesome dance across the churned dirt of the arena floor. The crowd cheered wildly when the horn sounded. One of his competitors had lasted the full eight.
The announcer’s voice blared over the PA system again. “The judges’ score is eighty-five. A great ride, ladies and gentlemen. And now we have a last-minute entry, but one I know you’ll enjoy. In chute number three, a native son of these Flint Hills and currently number one in the national standings—let’s hear it for Neal Bryant, looking for eight on board Dust Devil.”