Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

“You’re not worried about reporters with long lenses?”

“Cute,” she drawled, giving him an eye-roll.

“I can put you behind a privacy screen,” the maître d’ put in without missing a beat.

“Not necessary-”

“Katrina?” The voice from behind her was recognizable as Elizabeth Jeril’s, the Artistic Director of Liberty Ballet Company.

Katrina turned to greet her boss, and was swept quickly into a light, expensively perfumed hug combined with two air kisses.

A former ballerina, Elizabeth was slightly taller than Katrina, dark haired with dark eyes and close to forty-five. Though she didn’t dance professionally anymore, she was still trim and athletic.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk after rehearsal today,” Elizabeth noted, pulling back. “But you looked fantastic. Did Dr. Smith check your ankle?”

“He did. It’s fine,” Katrina assured her. It had been sore immediately after the dancing, but the pain was nearly gone now.

Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to Reed, curiosity clear in her expression.

“Elizabeth Jeril,” Katrina obliged. “This is Reed Terrell. Reed is from Colorado.”

“A souvenir?” Elizabeth teased, grinning as she held out her long-fingered, red-tipped hand.

“It was either me or the tacky T-shirt,” Reed played along, taking Elizabeth’s hand gently in his larger one.

“I like him,” Elizabeth told Katrina, eyeing Reed up and down.

There wasn’t much about Reed a woman wouldn’t like, Katrina silently acknowledged. “Elizabeth is Liberty’s Artistic Director,” she finished the introduction.

“You do choreography?” Reed asked Elizabeth.

“Planning, logistics, business management. I get to worry about the money. What little we have of it.”

“I understand that’s a common problem with arts organizations,” Reed acknowledged.

Katrina wasn’t sure what Reed knew about arts organizations, but she was quickly distracted from the question as Brandon Summerfield arrived. He stopped next to Elizabeth and tucked his phone into his suit-jacket pocket.

“There you are,” Elizabeth acknowledged his presence, placing a hand on his arm. The two weren’t officially a couple, but they’d been good friends and colleagues for years. There was an ongoing betting pool at Liberty over when they’d take their relationship to the next level.

“Nice to see you back, Katrina,” Brandon told her. He gave her a perfunctory hug.

When they separated, Reed offered his hand. “Reed Terrell. I’m in town to visit Katrina.”

Brandon shook. “Brandon Summerfield. Good to meet you.”

Elizabeth continued the introduction. “Brandon is the CEO of Seaboard Management, one of our most generous donors.”

“Real estate,” Brandon elaborated, “mostly commercial and industrial.”

“Ranching,” Reed responded, “mostly barns and toolsheds.”

Brandon grinned, and Katrina couldn’t help but smile at Reed’s easy joke.

“Will you join us for dinner?” Brandon offered, surprising Katrina. Liberty Ballet Company didn’t exactly operate on the class system, but dancers didn’t often mingle socially with the donors outside official functions.

She was momentarily speechless.

“Oh, please do,” Elizabeth echoed.

Katrina tried to gauge the woman’s expression, not sure if she should accept or decline.

Reed gave her a look that said the decision was up to her.

“Okay,” Katrina decided.

Elizabeth seemed sincere. And Brandon was an important player in the Liberty organization. With Quentin out there stirring up trouble, Katrina might need all the help she could get.

It turned out to be a wonderful dinner. Katrina was impressed with how Reed had held his own with Elizabeth and Brandon. He’d asked questions about the ballet company and had seemed genuinely interested in Brandon’s business ventures. She hadn’t realized he took such an interest in state politics or was so knowledgeable about international commerce and the impact of commodity and energy prices on global trade.

The more she hung around him, the more depths of his personality became apparent. For a guy who’d barely left Lyndon Valley, he seemed surprisingly worldly.

After dinner, they’d said goodbye to Elizabeth and Brandon and decided to take a walk along a pathway at the edge of the park. A canopy of trees arched over them, obscuring the streetlights and muting the sounds of traffic.

“I assume this is the part where I give you my jacket?” Reed asked, even as he shrugged his way out of it.

“This would be the time,” she agreed.

He draped it over her shoulders, and the warmth from his body seeped from the satin lining into her bare shoulders and arms.

He tugged the knot loose from his tie, popping the top button. “That was a nice restaurant.”

“Danielle didn’t steer you wrong.”

“I guess not.”

Katrina couldn’t help but be curious. Though she told herself to shut up, she couldn’t seem to stop the question from pouring out. “Why was it that you called her to ask about restaurants? I mean, it’s not like she’s a New Yorker.”

“The call was on an unrelated matter.” He removed the tie, turned to walk backward and looped it around her neck. “There. Now you’re accessorized.”

“Unrelated how?”

“As in, I didn’t call her specifically for a restaurant recommendation.”

He sure wasn’t making this easy.

“You called her on…business? Pleasure?” Katrina pressed as they made their way along the mostly deserted swath of concrete.

“Business.” He pointed through a gate to a bench overlooking the tulip gardens.

“Oh.” She shouldn’t feel so relieved. “Ranch business?”

“New York business.”

She altered her course. “You have business in New York?”

“I own part of a tailor shop and part of a bakery.” He waited for her to sit on the bench.

“Really?” Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? It seemed an odd thing to leave out, given their past conversations. “So, that’s why you’re here? To check on your businesses?”

He sat down beside her, slow to answer. “I’m here for a lot of reasons.”

The lamppost put him in light and shadow. His face was rugged, all angles and strength. His eyes were dark as they watched her.

She tried not to hope he was also here for her, but she couldn’t help herself. She had it bad for Reed Terrell, and no amount of reason or logic was going to change that. “Tell me the others.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She shifted closer to his big body, and his arm moved to the back of the bench, creating a crook of space.

She tipped her chin to look at him. “Am I one of them?”

“Not in that way.”

“What way is that?”

“The way where you blink your baby-blue eyes, and part those cherry-red lips and make me forget I’m a gentleman.”

His words sent a hitch of desire through her chest.

“Am I doing that?” she asked.

“Don’t play coy.”

“I am coy. Or at least I was coy.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, lowering her voice to a tease. “Quite innocent, really. Until a couple of days ago.”

He fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not?” It was only fair that he share her frustration. “I’ve been thinking about it constantly, reliving every minute, especially while I lay there alone, in my bed-”

Reed swore between clenched teeth.

“Tell me you miss it, too.”

He swore again.

She boldly put her hand against his chest.

His arm tightened around her shoulders, tugging her close while his lips came down, covering hers possessively. Her body responded with instant desire, kissing him back, twisting and pressing against him. Her arms wound around his neck, anchoring her as she tipped her head to better accommodate his overwhelming kisses.