Breaking Bailey's Rules. Brenda Jackson

you to make a good impression. Remember, you’ll be representing the entire family.”

      “Bailey representing the entire family? The thought of that doesn’t bother you, Dil?” Canyon Westmoreland said, laughing. “We don’t want to scare him off. Hell, she might go ballistic on him if he rubs her the wrong way.”

      “Cut it out, Canyon. Bailey knows how to handle herself and she will make a good impression,” Dillon said, ignoring his family’s skeptical looks. “She’ll do fine.”

      “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dillon.”

      “You got it, Bailey.”

      * * *

       Bailey knows how to handle herself and she will make a good impression.

      Dillon’s words rang through Bailey’s head as she rushed into the airport fifteen minutes late. And she couldn’t blame her delay on traffic.

      That morning she had been called into her boss’s office to be told she’d been promoted to features editor. That called for a celebration and she’d rushed back to her desk to call her best friend, Josette Carter. Of course Josette had insisted they meet for lunch. And now Bailey was late doing the one thing Dillon had trusted her to do.

      But she refused to accept that she was off to a bad start...even if she was. If Mr. Rafferty’s plane was late it would not hurt her feelings one iota. In fact today she would consider it a blessing.

      She headed toward baggage claim and paused to look at an overhead monitor. Mr. Rafferty’s plane had been on time. Just her luck.

      Upon reaching the luggage carousel for his plane, she glanced around. She had no idea what the man looked like. She had tried looking him up online last night and couldn’t find him. Josette had suggested Bailey make a sign with his name, but Bailey had rolled her eyes at the idea. Now, considering how crowded the airport was, she acknowledged that might have been a good idea.

      Bailey checked out the people retrieving their luggage. She figured the man was probably in his late forties or early fifties. The potbellied, fiftysomething-year-old man who kept glancing at his watch with an anxious expression must be her guy. She was moving in his direction when a deep husky rumble stopped her in her tracks.

      “I believe you’re looking for me, Miss Westmoreland.”

      Bailey turned and her gaze connected with a man who filled her vision. He was tall, but that wasn’t the reason her brain cells had suddenly turned to mush; she was used to tall men. Her brothers and cousins were tall. It was the man’s features. Too handsome for words. She quickly surmised it had to be his eyes that had made her speechless. They were so dark they appeared a midnight blue. Just staring into them made her pulse quicken to a degree that ignited shivers in her stomach.

      And then there was his skin tone—a smooth mahogany. He had a firm jaw and a pair of luscious-looking lips. His hair was cut low and gave him a rugged, sexy look.

      Gathering her wits, she said, “And you are?”

      He held his hand out to her. “Walker Rafferty.”

      She accepted his handshake. It was firm, filled with authority. Those things she expected. What she didn’t expect was the feeling of warmth combined with a jolt of energy that surged through her body. She quickly released his hand.

      “Welcome to Denver, Mr. Rafferty.”

      “Thanks. Walker will do.”

      She tried to keep her pulse from being affected by the throaty sound of his voice. “All right, Walker. And I’m—”

      “Bailey Westmoreland. I know. I recognized you from Facebook.”

      “Really? I looked you up but didn’t find a page for you.”

      “You wouldn’t. I’m probably one of the few who don’t indulge.”

      She couldn’t help wondering what else he didn’t—or did—indulge in, but decided to keep her curiosity to herself. “If you have all your bags, we can go. I’m parked right outside the terminal.”

      “Just lead the way.”

      She did and he moved into step beside her. He was certainly not what she’d expected. And her attraction to him wasn’t expected, either. She usually preferred men who were clean shaven, but there was something about Walker Rafferty’s neatly trimmed beard that appealed to her.

      “So you’re friends with the Outlaws?” she asked as they continued walking.

      “Yes. Garth Outlaw and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. I’m told by my parents our friendship goes back to the time we were both in diapers.”

      “Really? And how long ago was that?”

      “Close to thirty-five years ago.”

      She nodded. That meant he was eight years older than she was. Or seven, since she had a birthday coming up in a few months.

      “You look just like your picture.”

      She glanced at him. “What picture?”

      “The one on Facebook.”

      She changed it often enough to keep it current. “It’s supposed to work that way,” she said, leading him through the exit doors. And because she couldn’t hold back her thoughts she said, “So you’re here to spy on us.”

      He stopped walking, causing her to stop, as well. “No. I’m here to get to know you.”

      “Same thing.”

      He shook his head. “No, I don’t think it is.”

      She frowned. “Either way, you plan to report back to the Outlaws about us? Isn’t that right?”

      “Yes, that’s right.”

      Her frown deepened. “They certainly sound like a suspicious bunch.”

      “They are. But seeing you in person makes a believer out of me.”

      She lifted a brow. “Why?”

      “You favor Charm, Garth’s sister.”

      Bailey nodded. “How old is Charm?”

      “Twenty-three.”

      “Then, you’re mistaken. I’m three years older so that means she favors me.” Bailey then resumed walking.

      * * *

      Walker Rafferty kept a tight grip on the handle of his luggage while following Bailey Westmoreland to the parking lot. She was a very attractive woman. He’d known Bailey was a beauty because of her picture. But he hadn’t expected that beauty to affect him with such mind-boggling intensity. It had been a while—years—since he’d been so aware of a woman. And her scent didn’t help. It had such an alluring effect.

      “So do you live in Fairbanks?”

      He looked at her as they continued walking. Her cocoa-colored face was perfect—all of her features, including a full pair of lips, were holding his attention. The long brown hair that hung around her shoulders made her eyes appear a dark chocolate. “No, I live on Kodiak Island. It’s an hour away from Fairbanks by air.”

      She bunched her forehead. “Kodiak Island? Never heard of the place.”

      He smiled. “Most people haven’t, although it’s the second largest island in the United States. Anchorage and Fairbanks immediately come to mind when one thinks of Alaska. But Kodiak Island is way prettier than the two of them put together. Only thing is, we have more bears living there than people.”

      He could tell by her expression that she thought he was teasing. “Trust me, I’m serious,” he added.

      She nodded, but he had a feeling she didn’t believe him. “How do people get off the island?”

      “The