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       “Were you afraid tonight?” he asked.

      She flashed him one of her rare smiles. “Terrified, especially when you left me. I never knew I had so much adrenaline in my body.”

      He returned her smile and stood. “I’ll just get out of here so you can sleep off some of that adrenaline.”

      “Okay.” She walked with him to the door.

      He turned to tell her good-night and she stood too close to him. Her heady scent surrounded him as he remembered holding her in his arms when they’d danced.

      He wasn’t sure if he spoke her name or not, but suddenly she was in his arms and his mouth was on hers. He hadn’t asked permission. He hadn’t even consciously made the decision to kiss her. It had just happened.

      Someplace in the back of his mind he knew it was a foolish thought, and with regret he halted the kiss and pulled back from her.

      “Sorry,” he said. “Just chalk it up to lingering adrenaline.” Without giving her an opportunity to reply he hurried toward his Jeep.

      ***

      Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting miniseries:

       Cowboys of Holiday Ranch— Where sun, earth and hard work turn men into rugged cowboys … and irresistible heroes!

       Cowboy of Interest

      Carla Cassidy

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

      MILLS & BOON

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      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Extract

       Copyright

      Nick Coleman needed to get drunk. Not buzzed, not loopy, but brain-dead, blackout drunk. It was the only respite he might find from the vision burned into his head of seeing Wendy Bailey’s dead body stuffed under the floorboards of an old shed on the ranch where Nick worked.

      He’d been responsible in his plan to drink himself into oblivion. He’d contacted his good friend Chad Bene from a neighboring ranch to pick him up, bring him here to the Watering Hole and then make sure Nick got back to his bunkhouse on the Holiday Ranch safe and sound.

      Chad nursed a soda while Nick motioned to the waitress for a second beer. “You know, getting stupid drunk isn’t going to change things, except that tomorrow you’re going to wake up and feel as though you’ve wrestled with the biggest, meanest bull in the entire county,” Chad observed.

      “But at least maybe tonight I’ll sleep without nightmares,” Nick replied. It had been three days since Wendy’s body had been found, along with six older skeletal remains. It had been three long nights of sleep haunted by the visions of the vivacious black-haired, blue-eyed twenty-three-year-old who had blown into town two months before and instantly attached herself to Nick like an affectionate little sister.

      And now she was gone...dead. According to the coroner, she had been stabbed twice in the chest. She had been murdered. If that wasn’t horrific enough, Nick knew he was the prime suspect in her murder.

      Janis Little, the waitress serving their small two-top table, brought Nick a fresh cold bottle of beer and gave him a quick, sympathetic pat on his shoulder before going back behind the bar to serve other awaiting customers.

      At least Janis apparently didn’t see him as a murderer, he thought, but that didn’t take away any of the heartache and horror he’d lived with for the past couple of days. He couldn’t believe that Wendy was dead. She’d had a light too bright to be snuffed out. He couldn’t believe that anyone would have wanted to take her life.

      “Dillon has the whole ranch basically shut down as a crime scene area,” Nick said. He opened the beer, took a deep swallow and then continued. “He’s actively working Wendy’s case but has called in a forensic anthropologist from Oklahoma City to help with the investigation into the seven skeletal remains. She’s supposed to arrive sometime next week.”

      Chad shook his head. “I still can’t believe all those bodies were hidden under the shed. If they’re just skeletons, then their murders had to have happened some time ago. I wonder if Cass knew anything about them.”

      “We’ll never know, since Cass is dead.” Nick took another drink, and for a few minutes the only sound was the raucous noise of the popular bar on a Friday night.

      Thinking about Wendy was almost as

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