Not Just a Cowboy. Caro Carson

      “Thank you for your help, ma’am.” His voice was as deep as he was large. Deep, with a Texas twang. “My name’s Luke Waterson. Pleased to meet you.”

      He had cowboy manners even when he was under stress, introducing himself like this. She had to hand that to him as she placed her hand in his. His skin was warm and dry as she returned his handshake in a businesslike manner. He was still a giant of a man without his fireman’s coat, broad-chested with shoulder and arm muscles that were clearly defined under his T-shirt, but he returned her shake without a trace of the bone-crushing grip many men used.

      Patricia knew some men just weren’t aware how strong their grip was, but others—including her father’s cronies—used the too-hard handshake as a form of intimidation. If this fireman had wanted to play that game, Patricia would have been ready.

      But he didn’t hold her hand too long or too tightly. He let her go, but that grin deepened, lifting one corner of his mouth higher than the other as he kept those sailing-blue eyes on her.

      Patricia looked away first. Not very Cargill of her, but then again, men didn’t often look at her the way this young fireman did. A bone-crushing handshake? No problem. She could handle that. But to be winked at and grinned at like she was...was...a college coed...

      As if.

      She’d never been that flirtatious and carefree, not even when she’d been a college co-ed. In college, she’d come home on weekends to make sure her father’s latest bed partner wasn’t robbing them blind. She’d gone over every expense and co-signed every one of her father’s checks before they were cashed.

      Lord, college had been a decade ago. What was it about this fireman—this Luke Waterson—that made her think of being twenty-two instead of thirty-two?

      He used his heavy helmet to fan Zach’s face, a move that made his well-defined bicep flex. Frankly, the man looked like a male stripper in a fireman’s costume. Maybe that explained her sudden coed feeling. When she’d been twenty-two, she’d been to enough bachelorette parties to last her a lifetime. If she’d seen one male review with imitation firemen dancing for money, then she’d seen them all.

      Those brides had been divorced and planning their second weddings as everyone in her social circle approached their thirtieth birthdays together. Patricia had declined the second round of bachelorette weekends. Always the bridesmaid, happy to have escaped being the bride.

      Until this year.

      The real fireman used his forearm to swipe his forehead, the bulge of his bicep exactly at her eye level. Oh, this Luke was eye candy for women, all right. Muscular, physical—

      There’s no reason to be so distracted. This is absurd.

      She was head of personnel, and this man was wiping his brow because he was nearly as overheated as the unfortunate Zach-on-the-asphalt. If Patricia didn’t take care of Luke, she’d soon be short two firemen on her personnel roster.

      She plucked one of the water bottles out of her nearest staff member’s hand. The young lady didn’t move, her gaze fastened upon Luke.

      Annoyed with her staff for being as distracted as she’d let herself be, Patricia stood and looked around the circle of people. “Thank you. You can go back to work now.”

      Her team scattered. Patricia felt more herself. It was good to be in charge. Good to have a job to do.

      She handed Luke the bottle. “Drink this.”

      He obeyed her, but that grin never quite left his face as he knelt on one knee before her, keeping his gaze on her face as he tilted his head back and let the cool water flow down his throat.

      Look away, Patricia. Use your radio. Contact the fire chief and let him know where his men are. Look away.

      But she didn’t. She watched the man drink his water, watched him pitch it effortlessly, accurately, into the nearest trash can, and watched him resume his casual position, one forearm on his knee. He reached down to press his fingers against his friend’s wrist once more.

      “He’s fine,” Luke announced after a few seconds of counting heartbeats. “It’s easy to get light-headed out there. Nothing some shade and some water couldn’t fix.”

      “Is there anything else I can get you?”

      He touched the brim of an imaginary hat in a two-fingered salute. “Thank you for the water, ma’am. You never told me your name.”

      “Patricia,” she said. She had to clear her throat delicately, for the briefest moment, and then, instead of describing herself the way she always did, as Patricia Cargill, she said something different. “I’m the personnel director.”

      “Well, Patricia,” he said, and then he smiled, a flash of white teeth and an expression of genuine pleasure in his tanned face. His grin had only been a tease compared to this stunning smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

      He meant it, she could tell. He’d checked her out, he found her attractive, and that smile was inviting her in, inviting her to smile, too, inviting her to enjoy a little getting-to-know you flirtation.

      Patricia couldn’t smile back. She wasn’t like that. Flirting for fun was a luxury for people who didn’t have obligations. She’d never learned how to do it. She’d known only responsibility, even when she’d been twenty-two and men had been interested in her for more than her bank account and Cargill connections.

      It almost hurt to look at Luke Waterson’s open smile, at the clear expression of approval and interest on his handsome face.

      She preferred not to waste energy on useless emotions. And so, she nodded politely and she turned away.

Chapter Two

      So, the princess doesn’t want to play.

      He’d given her the smile, the one that had kept the woman of his choice by his side for as long as he could remember, whether at a bonfire after a high school football game or at a bar after a livestock show in Austin. Patricia-the-personnel-director, apparently, was immune.

      That was a real shame. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a woman who was so...smooth. Smooth hair, smooth skin, a woman who handled everything and everyone smoothly. She spoke in a smooth, neutral voice, yet everyone ran to do her bidding as if she were a drill sergeant barking out threats. This Patricia was the real deal, a Texas beauty who looked like a princess but had a spine of steel.

      It was a shame she wasn’t interested. He watched her walk away, headed for the chair she’d been in when he’d first hauled Zach in here. He liked the way she moved, brisk and businesslike.

      Businesslike. He should have thought of that. She was clearly the boss in here. The boss couldn’t flirt in front of her staff. If they weren’t in her office space, would he be able to get her to smile?

      Luke switched his helmet to his other hand and kept fanning Zach. Maybe it wasn’t that she wasn’t interested. She’d been a little flustered when they’d shaken hands, not knowing quite where to look. Maybe she wasn’t interested in being interested. That was a whole different ballgame.

      She wore diamonds in her ears, discreet little studs, but none on her fingers. If she wasn’t married or engaged, why not give him a smile?

      When he reached for Zach’s wrist to check his pulse, Zach shook him off. “I’ll live,” he said, managing to sound tired and pissed off at the same time.

      Patricia picked up a clipboard and turned their way.

      Luke ducked a bit closer to Zach and spoke under his breath. “Be a pal and lay still a while longer.”

      Patricia returned to his side of the tent. She didn’t crack a smile, but she crouched beside him once more. Her arm brushed his, and she jerked a tiny bit, as if she’d touched something she shouldn’t.