Linda Warren - Once a Cowboy

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Her head rested below his chin, her hand lay on his chest. She slept peacefully, making an occasional deep breathing sound.

It felt so right to have her in his arms. He’d never needed anyone in his life, but last night he’d needed her. It wasn’t sexual, either. Not that he didn’t want her. But last night was about something entirely different—comfort, caring and mental nourishment so he could face another day. Holding on to Alex gave him that strength.

She stirred and sat up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Good morning,” she whispered.

He felt a catch in his gut at her sleep-filled voice. Her soft brown eyes were languid, sensuous, and he had a feeling she’d look like this after making love.

Raising himself to a sitting position, he flexed his shoulders. “Morning.”

She sniffed the air. “I don’t smell coffee. After spending the night on the sofa, I expect coffee to be brought to me.” Her eyes twinkled.

“I’m not used to getting coffee for a woman.”

“Cowboy, that is so hard to believe.”

He tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ll bring you coffee any day of the week.”

Dear Reader,

Thank you for visiting TryHarlequin.com.

We hope you enjoy Once a Cowboy, written by popular Harlequin American Romance author Linda Warren.

Harlequin American Romance has been publishing contemporary stories for many years. Our books emphasize the importance of love, family and community in America today. We love to showcase the charm of small-town America and the ruggedness of western locales, but set our stories in big cities, too. After all, anywhere you live is home. And romance can happen anywhere.

If you’re looking for stories that will touch your heart and make you long for the comforts of home (and a hunky hero to call your own!) curl up and enjoy one of our books. This is romance the all-American way!

Happy reading,

The Harlequin American Romance Editors

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Award-winning, bestselling author Linda Warren has written twenty-one books for Harlequin American Romance and Harlequin Superromance. She grew up in the farming and ranching community of Smetana, Texas, the only girl in a family of boys. She loves to write about Texas, and from time to time scenes and characters from her childhood show up in her books. Linda lives in College Station, Texas, not far from her birthplace, with her husband and a menagerie of wild animals, from Canada geese to bobcats. Visit her Web site at www.lindawarren.net.

This book is dedicated to my wonderful editor, Kathleen Scheibling. You’ve made the past three years a joy. Thank you.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

The defunct air-conditioning spit out its last puffs of cool air about an hour ago. Since it was July in Dallas the office was hotter than the hinges of hell. An opened window only stoked the heat in the room. Alex Donovan, private investigator, squirmed in her chair and swallowed back a curse word. She never thought being hot could make her so damn irritable.

“I believe this is my son.”

The lady sitting across from her desk pushed a dog-eared newspaper clipping toward Alex.

Sweat trickled down Alex’s back and pooled at her waistline. One more minute and she would have been out the door. Now she was caught.

Pushing back her frustration with the heat, the office and life in general, she studied the picture of a cowboy astride a bucking bull. The massive black animal looked too menacing to tangle with—that is, to a city girl like Alex. The colored clipping was dated a month ago and was taken at a rodeo for charity in Fort Worth. The caption read: Brodie Hayes, bull rider and three-time world champion gives another stellar performance.

His record was impressive. As was the man himself.

The lady pulled a folder out of her purse—more photos—and carefully laid them in front of Alex. They were of the same man; on a horse, with two other cowboys and one head shot that gave a close-up of his features. Several were rodeo photos with PRCA stamped on them—Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association.

But Alex’s eyes were drawn to the clipping of the cowboy on the bull, which best showcased his broad shoulders and long, muscled body. One hand stuck high in the air as he strove to stay on the required eight seconds. His hat lay in the dirt and dark hair fell across his forehead. The sharp angles of his face were set in deep concentration, yet a glimmer of a smile shaped his lips. She had a feeling this man thrived on winning. Thrived on a challenge.

Handsome, tough and fearless were the three words that came to her mind. He was also likely a charmer who had a way with the ladies, but was hell in a fight with a man or a bull. Damn. He was good-looking. Heat centered in her lower abdomen and she began to wonder if the high temperature was getting to her brain.

Having lived in Texas all her life, she’d seen lots of cowboys, but none quite like this. What was it about him? He had the looks, definitely the sex appeal, yet there was something else about him that she couldn’t define.

Alex glanced at the lady, waiting for her story, because she knew there was one. The woman had sad green eyes—that was the first thing she’d noticed. A younger woman who looked to be somewhere in her thirties sat beside her. Probably a daughter or a relative because they had the same facial features, except for black hair untouched by gray, and blue eyes.

“My name is Helen Braxton and this is my daughter, Maggie Newton.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Braxton. Maggie. You said you thought this was your son?” Alex fingered the clipping and stared at the daughter. The striking color of her eyes held Alex’s attention. Baby-blue. The bluest blue—the same as the cowboy’s. Or very close.

Mrs. Braxton handed her another folder. “My son was stolen from the hospital when he was two days old. That was almost forty years ago.” She tapped the folder. “The information’s all in here.”

A feeling of déjà vu came over Alex. She’d dealt with cases like this when she was on the Dallas police force, where desperate parents saw the face of their missing child in every newspaper clipping, their fate in every headline.

One particular case still haunted her. The suffering of the parents had gotten to her and she’d put her heart and soul into finding their missing child. She’d given them hope, which was all they had left. But it hadn’t been enough.