Diana Palmer - Christmas Cowboy - Will of Steel / Winter Roses

“Nicely said, Chief Graves,” she said admiringly, and grinned.

“Well, I know a thing or two about being shot at,” he reminded her. “I was in the first wave in the second incursion in the Middle East. Then I became a police officer and then a police chief.”

“You met the other police chief at one of those conventions, I’ll bet,” she commented.

“Actually I met him at the FBI academy during a training session on hostage negotiation,” he corrected. “He was teaching it.”

“My goodness. He can negotiate?”

“He did most of his negotiations with a gun before he was a Texas Ranger,” he laughed.

“He was a Ranger, too?”

“Yes. And a cyber-crime expert for a Texas D.A., and a merc, and half a dozen other interesting things. He can also dance. He won a tango contest in Argentina, and that’s saying something. Tango and Argentina go together like coffee and cream.”

She propped her chin in her hands. “A man who can do the tango. It boggles the mind. I’ve only ever seen a couple of men do it in movies.” She smiled. “Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman was my favorite.”

He grinned. “Not the ‘governator’ in True Lies? “

She glared at him. “I’m sure he was doing his best.”

He shook his head. “I watched Rudolph Valentino do it in an old silent film,” he sighed. “Real style.”

“It’s a beautiful dance.”

He gave her a long look. “There’s a new Latin dance club in Billings.”

“What?” she exclaimed with pure surprise.

“No kidding. A guy from New York moved out here to retire. He’d been in ballroom competition most of his life and he got bored. So he organized a dance band and opened up a dance club. People come up from Wyoming and across from the Dakotas just to hear the band and do the dances.” He toyed with his coffee cup. “Suppose you and I go up there and try it out? I can teach you the tango.”

Her heart skipped. It was the first time, despite all the banter, that he’d ever suggested taking her on a date.

He scowled when she hesitated.

“I’d love to,” she blurted out.

His face relaxed. He smiled again. “Okay. Saturday?”

She nodded. Her heart was racing. She felt breathless.

She was so young, he thought, looking at her. He hesitated.

“They don’t have grammar school on Saturdays,” she quipped, “so I won’t need an excuse from the principal to skip class.”

He burst out laughing. “Is that how I looked? Sorry.”

“I’m almost twenty-one,” she pointed out. “I know that seems young to you, but I’ve had a lot of responsibility. Uncle John could be a handful, and I was the only person taking care of him for most of my life.”

“That’s true. Responsibility matures people pretty quick.”

“You’d know,” she said softly, because he’d taken wonderful care of his grandmother and then the uncle who’d owned half this ranch.

He shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a choice about looking after people you love.”

“Neither do I.”

He gave her an appraising look. “You going to the club in blue jeans and a shirt?” he asked. “Because if you are, I plan to wear my uniform.”

She raised both eyebrows.

“Or have you forgotten what happened the last time I wore my uniform to a social event?” he added.

She glowered at him.

“Is it my fault if people think of me as a target the minute they realize what I do for a living?” he asked.

“You didn’t have to anoint him with punch.”

“Sure I did. He was so hot under the collar about a speeding ticket my officer gave him that he needed instant cooling off.”

She laughed. “Your patrolman is still telling that story.”

“With some exaggerations he added to it,” Theodore chuckled.

“It cured the guy of complaining to you.”

“Yes, it did. But if I wear my uniform to a dance club where people drink, there’s bound to be at least one guy who thinks I’m a target.”

She sighed.

“And since you’re with me, you’d be right in the thick of it.” He pursed his lips. “You wouldn’t like to be featured in a riot, would you?”

“Not in Billings, no,” she agreed.

“Then you could wear a skirt, couldn’t you?”

“I guess it wouldn’t kill me,” she said, but reluctantly.

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. There was some reason she didn’t like dressing like a woman. He wished he could ask her about it, but she was obviously uncomfortable discussing personal issues with him. Maybe it was too soon. He did wonder if she still had scars from her encounter with the auditor.

He smiled gently. “Something demure,” he added. “I won’t expect you to look like a pole dancer, okay?”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He loved the way she looked when she smiled. Her whole face took on a radiance that made her pretty. She didn’t smile often. Well, neither did he. His job was a somber one, most of the time.

“I’ll see you about six, then.”

She nodded. She was wondering how she was going to afford something new to wear to a fancy nightclub, but she would never have admitted it to him.

She ran into Sassy Callister in town while she was trying to find something presentable on the bargain table at the single women’s clothing store.

“You’re looking for a dress?” Sassy exclaimed. She’d known Jillian all her life, and she’d never seen her in anything except jeans and shirts. She even wore a pantsuit to church when she went.

Jillian glared at her. “I do have legs.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” She chuckled. “I gather Ted’s taking you out on a real date, huh?”

Jillian went scarlet. “I never said …!”

“Oh, we all know about the will,” Sassy replied easily. “It’s sensible, for the two of you to get married and keep the ranch in the family. Nobody wants to see some fancy resort being set up here,” she added, “with outsiders meddling in our local politics and throwing money around to get things the way they think they should be.”

Jillian’s eyes twinkled. “Imagine you complaining about the rich, when you just married one of the richest men in Montana.”

“You know what I mean,” Sassy laughed. “And I’ll remind you that I didn’t know he was rich when I accepted his proposal.”

“A multimillionaire pretending to be a ranch foreman.”

Jillian shook her head. “It came as a shock to a lot of us when we found out who he really was.”

“I assure you that it was more of a shock to me,” came the amused reply. “I tried to back out of it, but he wouldn’t let me. He said that money was an accessory, not a character trait. You should meet his brother and sister-in-law,” she added with a grin. “Her parents were missionaries and her aunt is a nun. Oh, and her godfather is one of the most notorious ex-mercenaries who ever used a gun.”

“My goodness!”

“But they’re all very down-to-earth. They don’t strut, is what I mean.”

Jillian giggled. “I get it.”

Sassy gave her a wise look. “You want something nice for that date, but you’re strained to the gills trying to manage on what your uncle left you.”

Jillian started to deny it, but she gave up. Sassy was too sweet to lie to. “Yes,” she confessed. “I was working for old Mrs. Rogers at the florist shop. Then she died and the shop closed.” She sighed. “Not many jobs going in a town this small. You’d know all about that,” she added, because Sassy had worked for a feed store and was assaulted by her boss. Fortunately she was rescued by her soon-to-be husband and the perpetrator had been sent to jail. But it was the only job Sassy could get. Hollister was very small.