Stella Bagwell - The Lawman's Noelle

The mere idea of being close to this man shook her senses.

Behind that incredibly masculine face and rock-hard body, he was a lawman. How could Noelle be attracted to him?

She couldn’t answer that. She only knew that for the first time in years, Evan was making her remember that she was a woman. And the feeling was too good to pass up.

“I thought you might enjoy seeing something other than that little ranch of yours,” he said with a lazy grin.

Since she’d moved she’d been asked out on a few dates. She’d refused all of them. And something told her if she was smart now, she’d tell Evan Calhoun a loud, decisive no.

But something strange was going on inside her. For the life of her she couldn’t seem to form the word, much less say it to the man.

* * *

Men of the West:Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy …

The Lawman’s Noelle

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

STELLA BAGWELLhas written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple has a son, who is a high school maths teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

To all my friends at Jim’s Big Burgers.

Thank you for the brownies, coffee and food. And most of all, for making us feel special.

Contents

Cover

Introduction The mere idea of being close to this man shook her senses. Behind that incredibly masculine face and rock-hard body, he was a lawman. How could Noelle be attracted to him? She couldn’t answer that. She only knew that for the first time in years, Evan was making her remember that she was a woman. And the feeling was too good to pass up. “I thought you might enjoy seeing something other than that little ranch of yours,” he said with a lazy grin. Since she’d moved she’d been asked out on a few dates. She’d refused all of them. And something told her if she was smart now, she’d tell Evan Calhoun a loud, decisive no. But something strange was going on inside her. For the life of her she couldn’t seem to form the word, much less say it to the man. * * * Men of the West: Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers can ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy …

Title Page The Lawman’s Noelle Stella Bagwell www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author STELLA BAGWELL has written more than seventy novels for Mills & Boon. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way. A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love. The couple has a son, who is a high school maths teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com .

Dedication To all my friends at Jim’s Big Burgers. Thank you for the brownies, coffee and food. And most of all, for making us feel special.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Reining the bay horse to a stop on the rocky rise, Noelle Barnes stood in her stirrups and peered toward the dry wash more than a hundred yards below. The dark lump lying near those slabs of rock looked like a man! And he wasn’t moving!

Was he injured or sick? Or even dead?

Her adrenaline pumping, Noelle quickly guided her horse, Driller, down the rocky slope. Along the way, she buried the lower half of her face in the woolen muffler tied around her neck and tried to ignore the early December wind whipping across the bare Nevada hills. The frigid air permeated her heavy brown ranch coat and caused her eyes to water, but she was used to being out in brutal weather. And she could hardly turn back now!

Halfway to the gulch, a sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach. Her eyes hadn’t deceived her. The object lying at the bottom of the wash wasn’t an animal. It was a person!

Urging her horse to a faster gait, she wound her way downward through the rocks and sage until she reached the bank of the deep gulch. By then she could see a man lying facedown in the gravel.

Oh, my! Was he dead? What was he doing way out here? Alone?

Her heart pounding with fear, she guided Driller over the ledge and down the steep embankment. The ground was loose and the horse’s hind feet slid in several places, but at that moment she wasn’t concerned about either of them falling. Driller was sure-footed, and she’d ridden a horse for nearly all of her twenty-eight years.

“Come on, boy,” she encouraged her trusted mount. “A little farther and we’ll have it made.”

Noelle had hardly gotten the words out of her mouth when, several yards up the draw, another horse nickered shrilly. Driller returned the greeting.

“We’ll find your friend later,” she told Driller. “Right now we need to see if we have a corpse on our hands.”

At the bottom of the wash, Noelle dismounted. After tying Driller’s reins to a dead juniper trunk, she hurried over to the motionless body.

Dropping to her knees, she leaned over him, but stopped short of touching any part of him. Only a portion of the left side of his face was visible, yet it was enough for Noelle to discern he was young—somewhere in his thirties—and clean-shaven. A trickle of blood oozed through the dark chestnut hair just above his ear.

Jerking off her leather glove, she shoved away the kerchief tied around his neck and felt for a pulse. Relief flooded through her as she detected a faint but steady beat.

“Hey, mister, can you hear me? Wake up and tell me what happened.”

With her property being so remote, it wasn’t much use carrying a cell phone. She would either try to move this man on her own or go for help. And considering that he appeared to be at least six feet tall and somewhere close to a hundred and eighty pounds, she figured throwing him over his horse would be a mighty big chore.

Racing back to Driller, she jerked a bottle of water and a piece of ragged towel from her saddlebags. “He’s out, Driller. Colder than a mackerel. If I can’t wake him up, you and I might have to ride like hell to get help.”

Noelle raced back to the downed man, while behind her, the horse pawed as though to tell her he understood. And she’d bet that he did. Living out here for nearly four years, with no one to talk to but her animals, she figured they’d all learned a vast human vocabulary.

The water was slushy with ice. She poured a bit onto the rag and placed it on the man’s forehead, then shook his shoulder.

“Mister, can you hear me?” she practically yelled. “You need to wake up so I can get you out of this gulch.”