LITMIR.BIZ

      This book is dedicated to my family, Bryan and Nicole DeNosky, David DeNosky, and Heath and Angie Blumenstock.

       You fill my heart with love. It’s a joy and my privilege to be your mother.

One

      After working all day on the ranch he’d bought a few months back, Jaron Lambert sauntered into the Broken Spoke looking for three things—a steak dinner; a cold beer; and a warm, willing woman for a night of no-strings-attached fun. But as he sat down at one of the tables and surveyed the dimly lit roadhouse, he knew he would be settling on the steak and beer, then heading back to his place—alone.

      It wasn’t that there weren’t any women in the bar or that they hadn’t paid attention to him when he entered. There were a couple playing pool and a few more sitting at two tables shoved together, looking as if they might be having a girls’ night out. One of them had even smiled at him with a come-hither expression on her pretty face. But none of them piqued his interest enough for more than a passing glance. Maybe all the hard work to get his ranch in shape was catching up with him. More than likely it was because none of the women were a certain leggy brunette with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen.

      Disgusted with himself for wanting a woman he knew damned good and well he could never have, he decided that he’d have been better off calling a couple of his five brothers to see if they wanted to join him for supper. If he had, at least he would have had someone to talk to while he ate. But they all had wives and kids now, and he could appreciate them wanting to spend the time with their families.

      “What can I get for you, handsome?” a young, gum-snapping waitress asked, walking up to his table.

      “I’ll just have a bottle of Lone Star,” he answered, deciding to forego the steak and just have a beer. As soon as he finished draining the bottle, he’d head back home to heat up a pizza and spend the rest of the evening in front of the television.

      “One beer coming right up,” she said, giving him a bright smile. After a minute, she returned, plunked down a napkin on the worn Formica tabletop and set the bottle on top of it. “You’re Jaron Lambert, aren’t you?” Her smile widened into a flirty grin when he nodded. “You won the World All-Around Championship at the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas just before Christmas, didn’t you?”

      “Yup.” When she continued to stand there expectantly, he gave in and asked what he figured she was waiting on. “So you were there?”

      “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t afford a trip to Vegas on what I make here. I watched it on satellite TV.” She gave him an enticing smile. “You sure looked sexy when they awarded you that buckle.”

      He could tell by the look on her face that she was interested in more than just talking about his big win in Las Vegas. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t. He had dodged more than his fair share of buckle bunnies—young women who flirted and hoped to sleep with a cowboy in possession of a

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