LITMIR.BIZ

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it have anything to do with being seen with him? Did the paparazzi unnerve her, like they’d done to Amelia?

      Of course. She probably didn’t want her friends and neighbors to know that they were sexually involved. After all, she’d told him she didn’t have brief affairs.

      And he couldn’t blame her for feeling uneasy about it. Even if he was free of familial obligations and they didn’t have a geographical barrier, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to pursue her in the way his heart and hormones were urging him to.

      Amazing. That was the closest he’d come to admitting that he actually cared for her, that he felt more than friendship and that his heart had become invested. And while he wasn’t quite ready to broach the subject in public, he might do that later tonight, while they were alone.

      Just as he lifted his drink to take another sip, a slick-looking gentleman, who looked more out of place in Horseback Hollow than Jensen felt, approached.

      “Why, there’s our pretty Amber. It’s sure nice to see a friendly face in these parts.” The man, who was in his late forties, ran a pinky-ringed hand between his fleshy neck and his collar.

      If he’d had a camera, Jensen might have thought he was a paparazzo.

      Amber, who seemed a bit surprised by the intrusion, turned to Jensen. “This is Max Dunstan, Jensen. He’s with Cowboy Country USA.”

      Dunstan held out his thick, well-manicured hand while running a head-to-toe assessment of Jensen.

      The men had barely made the customary greeting when Dunstan pulled out a seat and plopped down on the stool next to Amber.

      Her eyes grew wide, and she glanced around the bar as though trying to determine whether any of the locals had noticed that she was hobnobbing with the enemy.

      Jensen was an outsider, so his opinion about the whole Cowboy Country USA controversy didn’t count for much. Nevertheless, while he liked the quaint appeal of Horseback Hollow, he also found the Wild Bill Hickok and Annie Oakley thing a bit intriguing.

      In fact, as Dunstan delivered his fancy Hollywood talk, Jensen tuned out so he could take in the not-so-subtle looks being cast their way.

      Amber shuffled in her seat a couple of times, as if she wanted to be anywhere but next to Dunstan. Jensen found the whole thing quite amusing—until he heard the words photo shoot.

      He spun back around just in time to hear Dunstan ask Amber if she would bring the saloon-girl costume with her for the ad campaign.

      “What ad campaign?” Jensen asked. “And what photo shoot?”

      “Our Amber here,” Dunstan said, “is going to be the face of Cowboy Country USA. Forget about princesses and Kate Middleton. When we’re done with our publicity launch, little girls all around the world are going to want to be cowgirls just like Amber Rogers.”

      “What do you mean ‘saloon-girl costume’?” Jensen asked Amber. “I thought you were only talking about doing some trick riding. And that you hadn’t made any decisions yet.”

      “I planned to talk to you about that later tonight,” she said, rather sheepishly.

      “Whoops.” Dunstan guffawed. “Did I spill the beans?”

      Amber shot him a scowl.

      “Sorry about that.” Dunstan raised his hands in mock surrender. “When I saw the expensive suit and Armani shoes, I figured he was your lawyer and already knew about your contract.”

      What contract? Why did Jensen feel as though he’d just walked into a movie theater, only to find that he’d missed the integral opening scene?

      Using his best “lord of the manor” voice, Jensen said, “No, I’m not her solicitor. I can assure you I’m more to her than that.”

      “No kidding?” Dunstan raised his brows and looked first at Amber, then at Jensen. “My bad. I didn’t expect a saucy cowgirl like Amber to have a stiff suit as a boyfriend. No offense, buddy.”

      Buddy? Didn’t this guy know who Jensen was? And who in the bloody hell was he calling a stiff suit?

      “Thanks for stopping by,” Amber said. “You have yourself a great night, Mr. Dunstan.” Then she waved him off, dismissing him as graciously as Queen Elizabeth would have expelled a naughty dog from the throne room.

      As Dunstan walked away, she tipped her shot glass of tequila to her lips as if it were a porcelain cup of Earl Grey.

      Yet something told Jensen that she was unsettled by the whole encounter.

      Well, he was more than unsettled. He was downright perturbed—especially at being kept in the dark.

      “It sounds as though your gig with Cowboy Country USA is all but a done deal.” He’d tried to tamp down the accusatory tone of his voice, but without much success.

      “I was going to tell you about the contract tonight.”

      “Tell me what? That they offered you one? Or tell me that you signed one?”

      “That I signed one.”

      “But I thought you were just going to ride in their pretend cowboy show. I didn’t know about the dancing-girl business or the photos and publicity.”

      He hadn’t meant to sound so petulant, like a child who didn’t get a sticky bun for supper. She didn’t owe him an explanation. But for some damn reason, he still hurt like hell—way down deep. And the thought of her parading around in some skimpy costume, modeling for photographers and seeking the limelight was the exact thing that he’d spent his life avoiding.

      “This wasn’t the way I’d wanted to tell you, but I don’t need your permission or approval anyway.” She straightened her spine, and he realized she was no longer embarrassed or worried about what the locals were thinking. Or him, for that matter. “When you go back to London, I’m going to stay here in Horseback Hollow and go on with my life the way I see fit.”

      “I didn’t know that performing in a trashy, two-bit saloon-girl costume was on the top of your list for life achievements.”

      “First of all, it’s not trashy. Gram sewed that for me. And second of all, I like performing. Not necessarily in a skimpy dress, but on a horse and in an arena. I miss the rodeo and I miss the thrill of riding. I’m not going to apologize for that.”

      “Nobody is asking you to apologize.” He wished she would lower her voice. They were making a scene, and he hated the way the patrons were now looking at him as if he’d insulted one of their own. “I guess I was just taken by surprise. I didn’t realize you were into all that celebrity rubbish like the others. I thought I knew... Oh, never mind.”

      “What did you think you knew? Me?” She gave a little snort. “Because if you really knew me, you’d know that I’m not doing this for any other reasons than the ones I already mentioned. The last thing I want is to be a celebrity living out my life publicly on the front page of every gossip magazine. But I guess you have that British nose stuck too far up in the air to see that life is more than hiding out in your sister’s house and dating all the wrong people, just so the world will see you the way you want it to—and not the way you really are.”

      She reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills, leaving them on the bar, before she got to her feet. “That should cover the cost of my drink. I wouldn’t want you to add gold digger or moocher to the list of unflattering qualities you think I possess.”

      With that, Amber turned around and stormed out of the cantina.

      Jensen reached into his pocket, removed the watch and glanced at it. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he’d certainly made a damn mess of everything.

      * * *

      Well, what had Amber expected—a profession of undying love and unconditional acceptance? It took all she had not to burst into tears before

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