Should've Been a Cowboy. Vicki Lewis Thompson

left my suitcase and purse out in the front hallway.” Tyler looked at Sarah. “Thank you so much for putting me up for a few nights.”

      Sarah laughed. “I’m afraid Alex plans to make you earn your keep. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

      “Actually you should worry about me working Alex too hard. He may regret asking for my help. I’m a slave driver when I get going.”

      Alex shook his head. “No worries. I admire dedication.”

      “Good. Me, too. We should make a good team.”

      And maybe that’s all she had in mind. He could tell by her matter-of-fact tone that she wasn’t flirting, not even a tiny bit. He should be relieved if she wasn’t interested in getting chummy. Instead he felt the sting of disappointment.

      He followed her out of the kitchen and through the empty dining room. Her hair bounced when she walked and her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. Her shoes were the kind that didn’t make an appearance very often at the Last Chance, where boots were the norm.

      Tyler’s shoes consisted of an arrangement of black straps that left most of her foot bare. Her toes were shiny, as if they had clear polish on them, but the white part was brighter than a natural nail would be. Crystal used to get that kind of pedicure, and he vaguely remembered it was connected with a nationality. Maybe French.

      He’d never thought of himself as having a thing about toes, but Tyler’s French pedicure generated a definite response from his libido. He could imagine himself kissing his way down to her slender toes and running his tongue between each one. During the night they’d shared, they’d been too busy with some very satisfying basics and hadn’t detoured into embellishments like sucking on toes.

      Her shoes stirred his baser instincts, too. The heels were at least three inches, maybe closer to four. In Chicago they’d call them do-me shoes.

      He wasn’t sure what they’d be called in Wyoming, but the effect was the same on a guy no matter where a woman wore them. As Tyler’s heels created a sensuous beat, Alex imagined backing her up against the nearest wall and wrapping her legs, sexy shoes and French pedicure included, around his waist. Her skirt would be easily bunched up, and if she still favored thongs, her panties would provide no challenge whatsoever.

      “How long have you been living at the ranch?”

      “Uh …” His brain wasn’t functioning as efficiently as it might, considering a certain amount of blood had been routed elsewhere. “About three months, I guess.”

      “I thought you liked being a DJ.”

      “I did. I do. But as a DJ I work indoors, and that just seems like a waste in this kind of country. The marketing director job allows me to live on the ranch and spend a lot more time outside.” Talking about something besides sex helped control his reaction to her. But every time he took a breath, he caught a whiff of her sweet perfume—part peach roses, part Tyler.

      “The Jackson Hole area seems to have a strong effect on people. It sure captivated my sister. She loved it when we lived here years ago, and she loves it even more now.”

      “Yeah, she’s talked about going to high school in Jackson.” Alex paused to pick up Tyler’s flowered suitcase and she grabbed her black leather purse before they headed up the winding staircase to the second floor. “So you didn’t fall in love with the place?”

      “We were only in Shoshone for about six months. I was thirteen and miserable because I had to wear hand-me-downs to school. I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings.”

      “That’s a tough age. I don’t know if anybody’s happy at thirteen.” He was willing to bet she’d been a knockout, though, even at thirteen and wearing hand-me-down clothes. “So what do you think of the area now?”

      “It’s beautiful. And Morgan’s so happy here.”

      “So’s my sister Josie. She came out on a skiing trip and made the decision to move. I wouldn’t have discovered this place if she hadn’t come here first.”

      “And now she’s married to Jack. Were you the DJ for the reception then, too?”

      “I was. They got married, along with Nick and Dominique, in early October.” But there had been no Tyler O’Connelli on the dance floor that night, no woman stirring him up and tempting him with hayloft sex. “Like Sarah said, we barely beat the snow, but now all the Chance men are hitched.”

      “Wow.” Tyler laughed. “Must be something in the water.”

      “Yeah, you might want to stick with bottled.”

      “No kidding. Does Josie still own the Spirits and Spurs bar in Shoshone?”

      “She does.” They reached the top of the stairs. “To your left.” He gestured in that direction. “Now that Josie lives out on the ranch, she’s not constantly at the bar, but she loves that place and I think she likes having her own income, too.”

      “I sure get that.” Tyler’s voice grew more animated. “I would never be financially dependent on a man. My mother and father seem to have worked it out, but sometimes I wonder if she’d had her own money whether she might have vetoed some of his crazy ideas.”

      Alex filed that statement away as a valuable insight into Tyler’s attitude. She wanted to maintain control over her life, and he admired that, too.

      He paused beside the doorway into Gabe’s room on the right side of the hall. “This is it. Home sweet home for the next five fun-filled nights.” Probably shouldn’t have said that, either, but it was cruise lingo and … okay, he was flirting, even if she wasn’t.

      She glanced up at him. “And where is your room?”

      He pointed across the hall.

      “Oh.”

      He put her suitcase on the floor. “Look, Tyler, that wasn’t my idea. There are some plumbing issues in the other wing, like Sarah said.”

      “I know. I just—”

      “You just wanted to pay a surprise visit to your sister,” he said gently. “You didn’t count on dealing with me, and you certainly didn’t expect me to be sleeping across the hall.”

      “Right.” Relief softened her dark eyes. “Thanks for understanding.”

      “Oh, I understand, all right. I’m as conflicted about this situation as you are.”

      “Because of your ex? Are you still—”

      “Hell, no, I’m not still hung up on Crystal.” He looked into her eyes and figured the truth would work as well as anything. “But I’m afraid I might get hung up on you.”

      Her pupils darkened and her full lips parted. Then she glanced away, as if she wanted to cancel that involuntary reaction.

      Too late. He’d seen desire flare in her eyes and it had created a predictable response in him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his jeans. “Are you afraid you’ll get hung up on me?”

      Her breathing quickened, making the turquoise fabric covering her breasts quiver. A turquoise pendant nestled in her cleavage and silver-and-turquoise drop earrings peeked through her dark curls. Her outfit was sexy, but he knew that had nothing to do with him. She hadn’t expected to see him today.

      The dress, the shoes, the jewelry, the hair—they were an expression of Tyler’s style and another reason he’d been attracted to her last August. From his position on the DJ platform he’d watched her rhythmic, undulating movements with increasing fascination. When she’d appeared with champagne and an invitation, he’d been a goner.

      “I am afraid we’d become too involved.” She gazed up at him. “When I saw you in the kitchen, I had instant recall of you and me in the hayloft.”

      “I always wondered if you