Tempted by a Cowboy. Sarah M. Anderson

course he knew he couldn’t hide out here forever. He had a job to do. Not that he needed the money, but working for the Beaumont Brewery wasn’t just a family tradition. It was also a damned good way to keep Chadwick off his back. No matter what his older brother said, Phillip wasn’t wasting the family fortune on horses and women. He was an important part of the Beaumont brand name—that more than offset his occasional forays into horses.

      Phillip saw a massive trailer parked off to the side of the barn with what looked like a garden hose and—was that an extension cord?—running from the barn to the trailer. Odd. Had he invited someone out to the farm? Usually, when he had guests, they stayed at the house.

      He took a swig of coffee. He didn’t like that unsettling feeling of not knowing what was going on.

      As he got closer, he saw that Sun wasn’t grazing. He was running. That wasn’t a good sign.

      Sun wasn’t better. He was the same. God, what a depressing thought.

      Then Phillip saw her. It was obvious she was a her—tall, clad in snug jeans and a close-fit flannel shirt, he could see the curve of her hips at three hundred yards. Longish hair hung underneath a brown hat. She sure as hell didn’t look like the kind of woman he brought home with him—not even to the farm. So what was she doing here?

      Standing in the middle of the paddock while Sun ran in wild circles, that’s what.

      Phillip shook his head. This had to be a post-hangover hallucination. If Sun weren’t better, why would anyone be in a paddock with him? The horse was too far gone. It wasn’t safe. The horse had knocked a few of the hired hands out of commission for a while. The medical bills were another thing Chadwick rode his ass about.

      Not only did the vision of this woman not disperse, but Phillip noticed something else that couldn’t be real. Was that a donkey in there with her? He was pretty sure he’d remember buying a donkey that small.

      He looked the woman over again, hoping for some sign of recognition. Nothing. He was sure he’d remember thighs and a backside like that. Maybe she’d look different up close.

      He walked the rest of the way down to the paddock, his gaze never leaving her. No, she wasn’t his type, but variety was the spice of life, wasn’t it?

      “Good morning,” he said in a cheerful voice as he leaned against the fence.

      Her back stiffened but she gave no other sign that she’d heard him. The small donkey craned its neck around to give him a look that could only be described as doleful as Sun went from a bucking trot to a rearing, snorting mess in seconds.

      Jesus, that horse could kill her. But he tried not to let the panic creep into his voice. “Miss, I don’t think it’s safe to be in there right now.” Sun made a sound that was closer to a scream than a whinny. Phillip winced at the noise.

      The woman’s head dropped in what looked like resignation. Then she patted the side of her leg as she turned and began a slow walk back to the gate. Betty followed close on her heels.

      The donkey’s name was Betty. How did he know that?

      Oh, crap—he did know her. Had she been at the party? Had they slept together? He didn’t remember seeing any signs of a female in his room or in the house.

      He watched as she walked toward him. She was a cowgirl, that much was certain—and not one of those fake ones whose hats were covered in rhinestones and whose jeans had never seen a saddle. The brown hat fit low on her forehead, the flannel shirt was tucked in under a worn leather belt that had absolutely no adornment and her chest—

      Phillip was positive he’d remember spending a little quality time with that chest. Despite the nearly unisex clothing, the flannel shirt did nothing to hide the generous breasts that swelled outward, begging him to notice them.

      Which he did, of course. But he could control his baser urges to ogle a woman. So, after a quick glance at what had to be perfection in breast form, he snapped his eyes up to her face. The movement made his head swim.

      It’d be so nice if he could remember her, because she was certainly a memorable woman. Her face wasn’t made up or altered. She had tanned skin, a light dusting of freckles and a nose that looked as if it might have been broken once. It should have made her look awkward, but he decided it was fitting. There was a certain beauty in the imperfect.

      Then she raised her eyes to his and he felt rooted to the spot. Her eyes were clear and bright, a soft hazel. He could get lost in eyes like that.

      Not that he got the chance. She scowled at him. The shock of someone other than Chadwick looking so displeased with him put Phillip on the defensive. Still, she was a woman and women were his specialty. So he waited until she’d made it out of the gate and closed it behind Betty.

      Once the gate clicked, she didn’t head for where he stood. Instead, she went back to ignoring him entirely as she propped a booted foot up on the gate and watched the show Sun was putting on for them.

      What. The. Hell.

      He was going to have to amend his previous statement—most women were his specialty.

      Time to get back to basics. One compliment, coming right up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone wear a pair of jeans like you do.” That should do the trick.

      Or it would have for any other woman. Instead, she dropped her forehead onto the top bar of the gate—a similar motion to the one she’d made out in the paddock moments ago. Then she turned her face to him. “Was it worth it?”

      His generous smile faltered. “Was what worth it?”

      Her soft eyes didn’t seem so soft anymore. “The blackout. Was it worth it?”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      That got a smirk out of her, just a small curve of her lips. It was gone in a flash. “That’s the definition of a blackout, isn’t it? You have no idea who I am or what I’m doing here, do you?”

      Sun made that unholy noise again. Phillip tensed. The woman he didn’t know looked at the horse and shook her head as if the screaming beast was a disappointment to her. Then she looked at Phillip and shook her head again.

      Unfamiliar anger coursed through him, bringing a new clarity to his thoughts. Who the hell was this woman, anyway? “I know you shouldn’t be climbing into the paddock with Sun. He’s dangerous.”

      Another smirk. Was she challenging him?

      “But he wasn’t when you bought him, was he?”

      How did she know about that? An idea began to take shape in his mind like a Polaroid developing. He shook his head, hoping the image would get clearer—fast. It didn’t. “No.”

      She stared at him a moment longer. It shouldn’t bother him that she knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was. That went with being the face of the Beaumont Brewery.

      But she didn’t look at him like everyone else did—with that gleam of delight that went with meeting a celebrity in the flesh. Instead, she just looked disappointed.

      Well, she could just keep on looking disappointed. He turned his attention to the most receptive being here—the donkey. “How are you this morning, Betty?”

      When the woman didn’t correct him, he grinned. He’d gotten that part right, at least.

      He rubbed the donkey behind the ears, which resulted in her leaning against his legs and groaning in satisfaction. “Good girl, aren’t you?” he whispered.

      Maybe he’d have to get a little donkey like this. If Betty wasn’t his already.

      Maybe, a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered, that blackout wasn’t worth it.

      He took another swig of coffee.

      He looked back at the woman. Her posture hadn’t changed, but everything about her