Cowboy to the Core. Joanna Wayne

She needs air.”

      The hovering bystanders retreated a few inches as two young girls pushed through them. “Mom! What happened?”

      “It’s okay, Celeste. I’m fine.” The woman’s voice was uneven, and she swayed when she tried to get up.

      “Whoa, there,” Marcus said, reaching out to steady her. “Take it slow.”

      “Did you fall?” the other girl questioned.

      “She passed out,” someone volunteered.

      Another onlooker pointed her finger at Marcus. “He’s a combat medic, trained on the battlefield. He knows what he’s doing.”

      The woman was standing now, and she shook loose of Marcus’s protective grasp. “I just fainted,” she insisted. “Believe me, I’m fine.”

      Maybe, but from what Marcus had seen, that wasn’t the full story. He‘d been looking right at her—okay, checking her out—when the clerk had brushed by him and held up a long green dress for the woman to admire.

      Instead her face had twisted into the kind of agonizing pain he’d seen on soldiers when they’d taken a direct hit. Not the kind of reaction one would expect from a woman eyeballing a ball gown in a Renaissance festival shop.

      “You should at least let me check your pulse again,” Marcus said.

      “Yeah,” the girl who’d called her “Mom” agreed. “He’s a medic. That’s practically a doctor.”

      “I don’t need a doctor or a medic, Celeste. My pulse is terrific.”

      She tossed her head and looked around as if searching for the nearest escape route. When she spotted the exit, she started toward it.

      The girls followed her. Marcus tagged along behind them, though he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t usually chase after women who were trying to avoid him, but then he seldom met one who hotwired his spine the way this one had. Actually, that was probably a reason to run the other way. But then his buddies in the SEALs had always said he was a danger junkie.

      Once they were outside the shop, the woman pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed away the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead.

      “Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?”

      “I’m certain.”

      “Well, then why did you faint?” the other girl asked.

      “Good point,” Marcus added.

      She glared at him, her brows raised as if questioning why he was still hanging around. “Low blood sugar.”

      “Since when do you have problems with blood sugar?” Celeste protested. “You sometimes go all day without eating.”

      “Well, I’m hungry now,” she said, obviously trying to dismiss her daughter’s concern. “We should have lunch and choose our dresses for the party later.”

      So the woman was lying about her medical condition, but something had happened to make her fade to black—or rather to a ghostly white—back there. None of his business, he told himself. He didn’t listen.

      “Food sounds good,” Marcus said. “How about I join you? That way I’ll be there in case your blood sugar level doesn’t regulate quickly enough and you require medical assistance.”

      Her face reddened as if she knew he’d caught her in the lie. Still, she didn’t give an inch. “I’ll be fine, Mr…”

      “Abbot,” he interrupted. “Marcus Abbot, but call me Marcus.” He extended a hand.

      Surprisingly she took it. Her grip was warm, but firm, and it struck him that he liked the way her small hand fit into his. And there was a hint of that heat again—more a slow burn than a jolt this time, but still bewitching.

      She exhaled sharply and seemed to relax a tad. “I’m Dani Baxter.”

      He liked the name. It suited her. Confident, but a little quirky and sophisticated at the same time. And he noted there was no little gold band on her left hand.

      “This is my daughter, Celeste, and her friend Katie.” Dani touched the shoulder of each girl as she introduced them.

      “We’re here for a wedding,” Celeste said excitedly. “It’s our first time at the festival.”

      “Mine, too,” Marcus said.

      “Don’t you just love it?” Katie asked.

      “It’s definitely looking up.”

      “Do you live around here?” Celeste asked.

      “In Dobbin.”

      “I’ve never heard of it.”

      “It’s a small town, just a few miles down the road.”

      “We live in Austin,” Katie said. “You said you were in combat, but you look like a cowboy. So which one are you?”

      “A former serviceman and a cowboy to the core.”

      “Do you have a ranch?” Celeste asked.

      “No, but I live on one.”

      “With horses?”

      “Lots of horses.”

      “Wow!”

      “Yeah,” Katie interjected. “I love horses.”

      He’d captured the girls’ interest, but Dani was a harder sell. “You really should let me check your pulse again.” This time when he reached for her wrist, she extended it.

      “Back to normal,” he said. Actually it was fast, barely noticeably so, but he decided to claim responsibility for the higher rate.

      “See,” she said, “just a harmless fainting spell, as I said. Nothing to worry about.”

      “Most likely,” he agreed, “but I suggest you take it easy for a while. How about I buy you and the girls some lunch? Strictly as a medical professional looking after your health,” he teased before “no” formed on her full, red lips.

      “Thank you, but you’ve done more than enough.”

      “In that case, you should offer to buy mine,” Marcus said, interrupting her protest with an argument he hoped she couldn’t refuse.

      A hint of a smile touched her mouth. She was weakening.

      “Okay,” she said. “Lunch it is. Choose your junk food booth.”

      Her color had returned, adding a healthy glow to her cheeks. She was damn good-looking. On a scale of one to ten, she might even top out at an eleven. But it was that episode back there where she looked as if she were dealing with the Devil that really had him going.

      He’d bet a week’s pay she was in some kind of trouble.

      Dani strode away toward the nearest row of food stands. Back straight, head high, hips swaying. The view was every bit as good from the back as it had been from the front. Gorgeous and intriguing.

      Yep. She needed him. She just didn’t know it yet.

      WITH FISH AND CHIPS and cold soft drinks in hand, Dani and Marcus settled at a wooden picnic table tucked under a tree next to a face-painting kiosk. The girls had taken their food and gone to catch the end of a juggling act a few yards away.

      Marcus’s presence flustered Dani. Partly, she decided, because he was too virile for comfort. But mostly because she was pretty sure he was about to hit her with questions she couldn’t answer.

      The fainting spell was a first for her. Even her worst psychic visions only stunned her, but all anyone ever noticed was that she lost her concentration.

      Which meant this probably had nothing to do with her abilities. Perhaps she had spent too many