Page 35 of Pure Temptation in Cowboy Boots

As he stood with the silent phone to his ear, he forced himself to think about something else. The exorbitant price that Stan Henderson wanted for his stallion, for example. And the fact that his father was seriously considering paying it. Finally he was able to hang up the receiver and turn around.

His father was standing not ten feet away, watching him.

“Hey, Dad.” He walked over with what he hoped was a nonchalant smile. “I figured you’d be haggling with Henderson over that stud for the rest of the afternoon.”

“I decided to take a break and let him think about my last offer.” Andy MacDougal was a tall, lean cowboy who didn’t look his age any more than Nora MacDougal looked hers. Most people assumed Mac’s parents were younger, but they’d suffered through several miscarriages before he’d come along when his mother was almost past childbearing age.

“I’m guessing you’ve got girl trouble,” his father said. “Am I right?”

Mac grinned. A partial truth was probably his best approach. “You could say that.”

“I also have a feeling she might be a serious girlfriend this time around.”

Mac didn’t like hearing that. “Nah. I’m not ready to settle down.”

“Oh, I think you are. I’ve seen the way you look at the Blakely boys and their families. I also realize you’re choosy, and that’s fine. But I’ve never known you to be this distracted. So if the woman you’ve been trying to call all day long is ready for a home and family, then I suggest you go for it.”

“She’s not.”

“Oh.” His father gazed at him for a long moment. “Want to grab a hot dog and a beer and talk about it?”

“A hot dog and a beer sounds great, Dad, but there’s really nothing to talk about.”

His father nodded. “If you say so. But the offer stands, anytime.”

“I know that, Dad, and I appreciate it.” Mac swung an arm over his father’s shoulders. “Let’s go eat. I’m starved.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The overnight mail truck arrived in Tess’s driveway the next morning. As she signed for the package, she noticed the Flagstaff postmark. Well, at least he hadn’t sent another bouquet of flowers. She’d be hard-pressed to explain a second floral delivery from her new principal.

Once she’d bid the deliverywoman goodbye, she closed the front door and ripped open the package. Inside were a pair of unbelievably soft, furry gloves. She put them on and discovered they were too big for her, but inside one glove she encountered a folded slip of paper. She pulled it out.

* * *

Dear Tess,

I saw these in a clearance sale. I could have brought them with me Sunday night, but I decided I’d rather send them so you can spend the next thirty-six hours imagining how you will feel when I put them on and run my hands over every inch of your naked body. In the meantime, enjoy the daisies.

M.

* * *

With a cry of frustration she clutched the gloves to her chest. What an evil man. What a wonderful, delicious tease of a man. She smiled to herself. Just like when they were kids, they always had to get each other back. He’d sent the daisies and she’d tortured him over the phone. Now this. The score was definitely in his favor at this moment.

She put on one of the gloves and ran it experimentally over her bare arm. Oh, Lord.

“Knock, knock, can I come in?”

Tess leaped to her feet as her mother came through the unlocked front door, a habit she’d developed that Tess had seen no reason to change — until now. Heart pounding as if she’d been caught raiding the cookie jar when she was five, she shoved Mac’s note in the pocket of her shorts and pasted on a welcoming smile. “Hey, Mom! How’s it going?”

“I hadn’t heard from you in a few days, so I thought I’d drop by and find out what you’re up to. Darling, you look guilty as hell. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

Debbie Blakely raised her eyebrows, obviously not convinced. She was a small woman, and Tess had taken after her in height and hair color, although her mother’s warm brown now came from a commercial product instead of nature. She was what Tess always thought people meant when they described someone as “pleasingly plump.” Tess wouldn’t have wanted her mother to lose an ounce, but she sure wished she’d be a little less perceptive.

Her mother glanced at the coffee table littered with the remnants of the overnight package and then at the gloves, one on Tess’s hand and the other clutched against her chest. “What’s that, a joke? Gloves in the middle of a heat wave?”