Their Little Cowgirl. Myrna Mackenzie

hair pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail with a silver clip, she was the epitome of refinement and primness.

      “You ever ride in a pickup truck before?” he caught himself asking, a trace of amusement lifting his lips.

      She gave him a look that told him she didn’t like being laughed at. “Well, I usually only ride in golden pumpkins pulled by white horses,” she said, “but don’t worry. I can stifle my inner stuffiness long enough to withstand a ride in a pickup truck. And for the record, Mr. Rollins, I wouldn’t exactly call this a pickup truck in the conventional sense. You’ve got a DVD player, a GPS, more cup holders than one man could possibly use and leather seats. If this were a colder climate, I’ll bet you would have heaters in the seats, too.” She gave him a placid knowing smile.

      He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Touché, Ms. Hammond. I probably had that coming, but my point was…”

      She sighed. “I know your point, Mr. Rollins. I don’t belong on a ranch. For the record, I did buy a pair of jeans, and I’ll eventually wear them. I just…it’s just…I’ll be meeting your daughter for the first time and I…”

      Her voice trailed off, and suddenly he realized that she was nervous, genuinely nervous about meeting a baby. This self-assured woman who had dared to stand toe-to-toe with him—a six foot one male with a body grown hard from work—was nervous. She hadn’t given an inch, even when he had pushed her and even when it was obvious that he was making her uncomfortable. She’d stood her ground, but now she had dressed to impress a one-year-old child.

      “Well, Suzy is pretty partial to gray,” he said, turning to give her a smile, hoping to lighten the mood, “but she’s going to be mighty disappointed that you’re not wearing pearls and white gloves.”

      To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled back. Not just a weak, polite smile, either, but a brilliant one that made his breathing stop and sent heat sizzling through his body in a powerful flow. “I was thinking maybe the diamond tiara,” she quipped.

      “Just the thing,” he agreed amiably, but inside him a storm was brewing. His sudden reaction to that smile had been a warning for him to stay away from this woman. He was through with anything involving emotional needs of a deep or serious nature. He had lost too much—his football career, nearly his marriage, and then, when he and Michelle had finally put things back together again and he had begun to hope for at least a partially happy ending, he’d lost his wife, too. So, other than an occasional visit to another town and a woman there who, like himself, wanted nothing more than a meaningless physical fling, he kept his distance from women. He hadn’t been tempted so far, and it wasn’t going to happen now, especially with a woman who could only mean trouble and regret.

      “Here we are. This is my ranch, Ms. Hammond,” he said, turning in at a gate that declared them to now be on Rollins Acres. “This is where you’ll be spending the next two weeks. I think you can safely leave your tiara in the box.”

      He glanced across and ended up gazing right into those beautiful blue eyes. “Maybe you’re right about the tiara,” she said softly. “But, do you think you could call me Jackie for the next two weeks? If we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other…”

      “We won’t,” he said suddenly and then realized how harsh his voice had been. He had agreed to her terms. Being rude and abrupt would only make this time harder. “I only meant that you’ll probably be mostly interested in the house,” he explained. “Suzy spends most of her time there. I won’t be around that much except in the evenings, but yes, I see your point. I’m not all that used to being called Mr. Rollins, and Steven will be fine.”

      He continued down the long road leading to the house and glanced to the side again. She looked incredulous.

      “What?”

      “You’d let me spend time alone with Suzy?” For some reason she seemed a bit indignant.

      “That would be a bad thing?”

      “She’s a baby. I’m a total stranger.”

      He stopped the car. “You are an enigma, Ms.—Jackie. You force me to take you into my house for two weeks so you can be with my child, and now you’re getting huffy because you think I’m not taking enough care with her?”

      “I am not huffy.” She had her arms crossed under her breasts. He took a long look at what he hadn’t noticed before beneath her loose clothing, then glanced up to see that she was blushing. She brought her arms up higher, covering herself. “I’m not huffy,” she repeated.

      He couldn’t help grinning. “You most definitely are, and you’re also embarrassed. Relax, Jackie. I don’t assault my guests, and no, I don’t intend to leave you alone with my daughter. She has a nanny.”

      “Oh.” The sound was hollow and small.

      “Yes, oh. No offense, Jackie, but I don’t trust anyone I’ve just met with Suzy. The nanny, Ms. Lerner, had to give me five personal and five professional references and I had a detective check her out. I don’t take chances when it comes to my child.”

      She nodded. “Did you do that with me? Hire a detective, I mean?”

      He hadn’t, even though he’d had his attorney run a basic check on her background. She had come up completely clean—the eldest daughter of Jeffrey Hammond, a wealthy entrepreneur known for looking out only for himself and the bottom line. Her mother was dead, her only relative other than her mostly absent father was the half sister who was her business partner. No highs, no lows. But glancing at her profile, at the lush curves beneath that mannish suit, Steven wondered if he shouldn’t find out more. Surely she’d had a number of men fighting to be the one to bed that body. There could be plenty of skeletons he had missed.

      “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Jackie?” he asked. “Some past sin you want to admit to, something that might make you unfit to spend time with my child?”

      She gave him a long, assessing stare, then raised one delicate shoulder in a gesture of dismissal. “I once filched a box of Belgian chocolates from my mother’s dresser. So yes, I do have some terribly bad, incurable habits and a criminal history. If you don’t watch out, I might turn Suzy into a chocoholic like myself. I am a dangerous woman, Steven.”

      She dared him to say differently. He couldn’t. That smile and those eyes, but most of all that hint of the vulnerable, made her very dangerous. She made a man want to kiss her, whether she tasted of stolen chocolates or just woman.

      “Then I’ll keep my eye on you,” he told her. And he meant it, too. He couldn’t be careless with Suzy, even if he wanted to keep his distance from this woman.

      He pulled the car up in front of the house, a wide two-story farmhouse with a porch that wrapped around three sides.

      “What a pretty shade of pale blue,” she said, referring to the color of the clapboards. “Rather a feminine color, though. I wouldn’t have expected it of a man who drives a huge, black look-at-me-I’m-all-man truck.”

      Steven chuckled. “The house color was my wife’s choice.”

      Jackie’s eyes grew solemn. “I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be. You just asked about the paint. Asking questions is not what you need to be sorry about.” Okay, he couldn’t stop implying that she should have stayed back at the resort.

      “I know, but…has it been long since you lost your wife?”

      “She died the day Suzy was born, so now it’s just my daughter and me. That’s all it will ever be, too.” He knew the words sounded as though he was warning her away. But they were really meant for himself—a reminder that, while he might be bringing a desirable woman to his home, she was not there for his pleasure.

      “I understand. I don’t have much interest in men, either.”

      He raised one brow.

      She blushed. “That is, I just don’t