It Takes a Cowboy. GINA WILKINS

rose to five thousand dollars, more than she’d intended to spend. She gulped and upped it to fifty-five hundred.

      “Wow. You must really like that sexy smile,” the woman next to her murmured.

      Blair almost answered that the man’s sexy smile had nothing to do with this. She was buying him for her nephew, not for herself. Although, if she was buying a man for herself, this was definitely one who...

      She shook her head, telling herself to concentrate on what she was doing—and why. She waved her hand again when the bidding rose to sixty-five hundred. Scott McKay looked in her direction and grinned.

      “Oh, lordy,” the brunette said with a sigh.

      Oh, lordy, Blair echoed silently, her nerve endings all aquiver from the smile he’d sent her way.

      “Sold for sixty-five hundred dollars,” the auctioneer called. “The residents of Lost Springs Ranch greatly appreciate your generosity, ma’am. Now, let’s hear a warm welcome for our next bachelor....”

      “Way to go!” The woman beside Blair cheered, clapping Blair on the back. “You bought yourself a hunk for a weekend.”

      “Oh, but I...” Blair’s words dissolved into a groan as the full impact of what she had done sank in. What on earth was she going to do with a hunk for a weekend?

      * * *

      HAVING ALWAYS BEEN the type to want things settled very quickly, Blair wrote out her check to the auction officials, then immediately went looking for Scott McKay. She wanted to let him know exactly why she had purchased his services—just in case he’d gotten the wrong idea.

      She didn’t find him among the other bachelors milling in the arena, surrounded by their buyers and other admirers. She finally located an auction volunteer, a young man who nodded in response to her question and led her to one of the cozy one-room, one-bath cottages where overnight guests and visiting directors were occasionally housed. “He’s in here,” he said, and knocked on the door. “Mr. McKay? Your buyer wants to meet you.”

      Blair’s cheeks flamed. She didn’t particularly like being referred to as his buyer. It sounded so ridiculous.

      The cottage door opened. And Blair discovered that Scott McKay was even more attractive close up than he had been from the risers. So polished and dignified, she thought in approval. Obviously an important businessman. He looked her over as the volunteer hurried away, leaving them alone. “Hi. So you’re the one who bought me?”

      “Well, um, yes. I’m Blair Townsend.”

      “And I,” he said, giving her a smile that could have melted concrete, “am delighted.”

      Oh, heavens. Blair cleared her throat. “Mr. McKay...”

      “Scott. Please, come in.”

      “Well, I—”

      He reached out, took her arm and hauled her into the neatly furnished little cottage, talking the whole time. “I gotta tell you, Blair,” he said, closing the door. “I was a little worried about who would buy me. Did you see the women out there? Some of them looked like they wanted to eat us alive. And that little granny who bought Rob? What do you suppose she wanted, a grandson for a weekend?”

      “I’m not—”

      He reached for his tie, yanking it loose and over his head, still knotted. The movement mussed his hair from the neatly brushed-back style of before, causing a heavy lock to fall forward on his forehead. “I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t have done this for anyone but Lindsay. I’d rather bungee jump off the Empire State Building or wrestle the meanest bull ever born than stand up on that auction block again.”

      Bungee jump? Wrestle bulls? That didn’t sound like something a conservative businessman would say. “Scott, I...”

      He tossed his suit jacket over the back of one of the chairs and reached for the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I hope they made enough money today to keep them afloat—maybe enough positive PR to keep the donations coming in. Too many kids out there would be in a spit-load of trouble without this place.”

      “Yes, I know it’s—”

      “Thanks to people like you, Lindsay’s got a real chance to make it. Sixty-five hundred dollars...well, that was incredibly generous. I’ll have to make sure,” he added with a grin, “that you get your money’s worth.”

      He stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the same chair that held his jacket. His bare chest was broad, tanned...and made Blair’s heart almost stop. Her fingers curled at her sides—she assured herself it wasn’t an effort for her to keep from reaching out to touch all that lovely expanse of male skin. She lied, of course.

      “Mr. McKay!” she sputtered. “What are you doing?”

      “I’m changing clothes,” he said with a smile that was suspiciously bland. “I hate wearing suits, but I thought we were supposed to dress up for this thing. Come to think about it, Lindsay was the one who suggested the tie. I’ll have to figure out a way to repay her for that.”

      He snatched a duffel bag off the couch and moved toward the bathroom. “I’ll finish changing in here. Help yourself to something to drink, if you like. There are sodas and juice in that little fridge. I’ll be out in a minute.”

      The bathroom door closed in her face. Blair stared at it in dismay. What had just happened here? The dignified, conservative businessman she’d spent a large chunk of her savings on had transformed right in front of her eyes into a bare-chested, fast-talking crazy man.

      Oh, how she wished she had read one of those auction brochures before she had made such an uncharacteristically impulsive and imprudent gesture!

      She should probably leave now, admit defeat and consider her monetary loss a donation to a very worthwhile cause. She wasn’t at all sure Scott McKay would be the right person to get through to Jeffrey. Pushing a picture of his gorgeous bare chest out of her mind, she took a step toward the exit.

      “Hey, Blair!” Scott called through the bathroom door. “Would you mind pouring something cold for me, too? After sitting out there in that arena all afternoon, I’m damned near dried out.”

      Blair sighed. His words reminded her of what a generous and unselfish gesture he had made on behalf of the ranch. She would have absolutely hated being paraded in front of a hooting, cheering crowd. Maybe Scott was still just a little nervous and hyper after that experience. That would be understandable, she thought, remembering the slightly bemused expression he’d worn during the auction.

      Maybe she should give him a second chance.

      “Soda or juice?” she called out.

      “Whatever you’re having, darlin’.”

      Darlin’. She swallowed a groan, tried again to forget how good he had looked a moment ago and poured orange juice into a glass she found in a cabinet beside the mini-refrigerator. She didn’t want anything for herself. She sincerely hoped Scott would reappear with his hair neatly brushed again, maybe wearing a polo shirt and khakis—something suitably conformist and respectable. Something that would convince her he was the right man for the job she had in mind.

      The bathroom door opened and she turned, holding out the glass of juice she had poured for him. And then she nearly dropped it on the floor when he stepped out and she got a good look at him.

      “Oh, damn,” she said in consternation. “You’re a cowboy.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      FOR SOME REASON, Scott was getting the idea that Blair Townsend wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the purchase she had made. In response to her comment, he glanced automatically at the clothes he’d just pulled on—a blue-and-white-striped denim shirt, a pair of jeans cinched with a worn leather belt and the boots he’d had on earlier.

      Regular-type clothes, he thought