Lynnette Kent - A Husband In Wyoming

“This should do it.”

He placed the hat on her head, then turned her around to face the mirror above the dresser. “There you go. Looks good—you’re already a bona fide cowgirl.”

Jess gazed at their reflection, feeling the warmth of his body behind hers, the weight of his palms, his breath stirring her hair. Awareness dawned inside her.

“Thanks,” she said, appalled at the quavery sound of her voice.

“Uh … you’re welcome.” Dylan sounded a little stunned, as well. He cleared his throat and stepped away.

This new Dylan Marshall—the grown-up version—was comfortable, satisfied … solid. His sexy grin, the confident and flirtatious attitude, the broad shoulders and narrow hips all combined into one seriously hot package.

But she would fly back to New York on Sunday, giving her only four days to get what she needed for the article.

But she was tempted to want more. Very tempted.

A Husband in Wyoming

Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

LYNNETTE KENTlives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt “This should do it.” He placed the hat on her head, then turned her around to face the mirror above the dresser. “There you go. Looks good—you’re already a bona fide cowgirl.” Jess gazed at their reflection, feeling the warmth of his body behind hers, the weight of his palms, his breath stirring her hair. Awareness dawned inside her. “Thanks,” she said, appalled at the quavery sound of her voice. “Uh … you’re welcome.” Dylan sounded a little stunned, as well. He cleared his throat and stepped away. This new Dylan Marshall—the grown-up version—was comfortable, satisfied … solid. His sexy grin, the confident and flirtatious attitude, the broad shoulders and narrow hips all combined into one seriously hot package. But she would fly back to New York on Sunday, giving her only four days to get what she needed for the article. But she was tempted to want more. Very tempted.

Title Page A Husband in Wyoming Lynnette Kent www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author LYNNETTE KENT lives on a farm in southeastern North Carolina with her six horses and six dogs. When she isn’t busy riding, driving or feeding animals, she loves to tend her gardens and read and write books.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

June

Here comes trouble.

Standing outside the barn, Dylan Marshall watched as dust billowed up behind the vehicle approaching in the distance. He swallowed against the dread squeezing his throat. If he could have avoided this encounter by any reasonable means, he would have. The next four days were going to be absolute hell.

At last the Jeep came into full view, its dark blue paint now mottled with dirt. Going too fast, the car barreled up the last hill and hurtled along the road toward the ranch house, where it screeched to a stop with a spray of gravel.

Dylan shook his head. Somebody needs to slow down.

His boots felt as if they had lead in them, but he managed to move his feet and descend the hill toward the house. After a long day driving cattle, all he wanted was a shower. Dirt had settled in the bends of his elbows and the creases of his jeans, the cuffs of his gloves and at the base of his throat. He could taste it on his tongue.

He also wanted some dinner and a chance to sit down on a chair instead of a saddle. But most of all, he wanted to get clean.

He did not want to meet the press.

The door on the Jeep opened and a pair of high-heeled boots hit the ground. Standing up, the driver saw him coming, shut the car door and walked forward. Like two gunfighters, they moved slowly, warily toward each other, hands at their sides as if poised to draw a pistol and fire.

Dylan stopped with about ten feet between them. “Jess Granger?”

She was tall and slim, with long, shapely legs showcased by skinny jeans and those fashionable boots. Shiny brown hair whipped around her head, blown by the never-ending Wyoming wind.

Pulling the long strands out of the way, she nodded. “From Renown Magazine . You’re Dylan Marshall?”

Her face could make Da Vinci weep—big eyes, the cheekbones of a goddess and a wide red mouth that stirred a man’s blood to the boil.

He tipped his hat and then closed the distance between them, removing his gloves so he could shake her hand. “Welcome to the Circle M Ranch.” A warm, slender palm returned his grasp. Dylan let go slowly, smiling in pure appreciation of her beauty.

Spreading her arms wide, she took a deep breath and blew it out. “There’s a lot of space out here. Such a big sky.”

“Are you a New York native?”

“I’ve lived there for half my life, so it feels like it. I’ve done my share of traveling, but this is my first time in Wyoming. I’m ready for a Western adventure.”

“We’ll do our best.” A drop of sweat rolled down the nape of his neck. “Let me get your luggage.” Stuffing his gloves into a back pocket, he crossed to the car and opened the rear hatch.

She whirled to follow him. “That’s okay. I can—”

He pulled out her two bags before she could finish. “Got it. Come into the house.” Leading the way onto the porch, he set down the big red suitcase and opened the screen door, nodding her through. “Be our guest.”

He was determined to be polite. The only way to survive this interview was to keep control of the conversation, making sure Jess Granger learned only what he wanted her to. Reporters could be ruthless, but his job for the next four days was to give this New York journalist a peek at his life and his sculpture without actually revealing anything important. The gallery where he’d be showing his work had insisted on a big publicity push. Their bottom line: no article, no exhibit. After the way he’d sabotaged his career two years ago, Dylan knew he was lucky to get this chance for a significant show. If he wanted his work to be seen, he had to cooperate with the gallery—and with Jess Granger.

But he didn’t want his emotional guts dissected in a fancy magazine for strangers to read. His three brothers deserved their privacy, as did the kids staying with them for the summer. Fortunately, Dylan considered himself an expert in the art of shooting the bull. Try as she might, he’d make sure Ms. Granger discovered only the most harmless details.

He set her bags by the hallway door while she sashayed inside and circled the living room. “Nice,” she said, with a surprised expression. “Quite upscale for a bachelor pad.”

“We try to stay civilized.”

“So I notice.” She homed in on the one sculpture in the room, a bear figure he’d made while still in high school. “Is this yours?”

And so it started. “Yep. An early piece.”

“It’s...clever. Obviously talented.” Her words echoed the art critics he remembered from his time in that world—conceited and condescending. “But not at all similar to the work you were doing when you came out of college.”

Hands in his front pockets, Dylan tried to stay relaxed. “I took a different direction for a while there, exploring new materials, new techniques. I tried to give people what they appreciated. What they wanted to see.”

Jess Granger nodded, setting the bear in its place. “You certainly did that. For five years, you were the darling of the international art scene, the name everybody talked about. You had sculptures in the major art fairs and showed up at all the right parties.