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Chapter One
Chad McCray loved women. Brunette, blond, or redhead, thin and willowy or curvy and voluptuous, he adored them all. Exploring their bodies and sating his sexual hunger was his favorite hobby.
Yes, he did adore women.
Commitment?
Not so much.
Since women seemed to love him as well, life had been good for his thirty-two years. In his two decades of loving the fairer sex, only one had tried badgering him into commitment. He’d gotten rid of her faster than a bucking bronc tosses a cowpoke. Now, he was on his way out the door to pick up a new luscious lollipop he’d met at a community potluck. Light blond hair, cherry-red lips, and curves that went on forever—Amber Cross, the new manicurist in town, was a tasty treat he looked forward to sampling.
The ring of his cell phone interrupted his lascivious thoughts. He scooped it out of his pocket and stared at the screen. His brother Zach.
“What’s up, Zach?”
“Got an opportunity of a lifetime for you, Chad,” Zach’s deep voice said.
“What might that be?”
“Well, it seems you, Dallas, and I have been chosen to judge the rodeo queen contest this year.”
Chad guffawed into the phone. “You mean Dusty and Annie are going to let you and Dallas ogle the cheesecake of Bakersville? You’ve got to be kidding.” The mere thought of his disgustingly happily married brothers judging a beauty pageant brought a smirk to his lips. “I, on the other hand, would be honored.”
Zach chuckled. “Our wives trust us. We’re committed.”
“Should be committed, you mean.” Chad checked his watch. “Do you need anything else at the moment? I’m due to meet a lovely little cream puff in half an hour.”
“Meet her? You mean you’re not picking her up at her place?”
“Nope. We’re meeting at the Bullfrog for a drink.”
“One day, little brother,” Zach said, “you’re going to meet a woman who knocks your boots right off. A woman you want to treat like a lady.”
“Not likely,” Chad said. “My life is pretty darn perfect the way it is. When I need a home cooked meal, I crash your house or Dallas’s. And when I want a critter fix, I have Sean and the twins. All the family love, but none of the responsibility. That’s the way I like it.”
“Sean’s my critter, and the twins are Dallas’s.” Zach’s tone turned serious. “Don’t you want one of your own? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“Worried about my biological clock, Zach?” Chad laughed.
“Nope,” his brother said. “Just worried you’re going to wake up one day and find yourself alone.”
Chad smiled, imagining the sweet red lips of Miss Amber Cross roaming over every inch of his body. “One thing I can guarantee you, brother. I’ll never be alone.”
* * *
Caitlyn Bay ran into her brother’s arms at baggage
claim in Denver. Fatigued and dehydrated from the trip from Paris, she looked a mess.
“Hey, Catie-bug,” Harper said, kissing the top of her head. He pushed her away. “Let me look at you. You’re all grown up.”
“You just saw me in Brussels at Christmas, Harper,” Catie said, “and right now I’m a fright.”
“Nonsense, you’re gorgeous as always. People at home aren’t even going to recognize you. You left four years ago a freckle-faced girl in ponytails, and now you’re a chic Parisian grad student.” He shook his head. “I still don’t know why you never came home for the holidays.” He steadied her as she stumbled. “And still a notorious klutz.”
Catie ignored the jibe. “You know why. I wanted to travel, to see the world. And I did, Harp. I saw it all.”
“I think you stayed away to avoid a certain cowboy by the name of McCray,” Harper said. “Chad’s still single, you know.”
Catie looked away. “My bags here yet?”
“Your plane just got in, honey. Your bags’ll be a few minutes. Nice save, by the way.”
“What do you mean?” she asked innocently. Inside, her heart was thumping like the hooves of a racehorse at the thought of Chad McCray.
“He’s damn near twice your age, Catie.”
“I have no interest in Chad McCray. And he hasn’t been twice my age since I was eleven and he was twenty-two. Even so, I happen to be twenty-one years old now, as you well know. Legal and everything. I can even order a margarita when I want one. In fact, I think I want one now.”
“Now?”
“Heck, yeah. I’m exhausted, and my brain is fried. I can’t think of a better salve for myself at the moment. Mind if we stop at the Bullfrog on the way home?”
“I think you’ve lost your mind, little sis. You’ve never set foot in the Bullfrog.”
“Because I haven’t been able to. Legally. But now I can. I want my big brother to buy me my first legal drink.”
“You’ve been drinking in France for four years.”
Catie gave her brother a friendly swat. “You make it sound like I’m some kind of a lush. You know I hardly ever indulge. But right now a little lime and tequila sounds thirst-quenching good. You can’t get a Colorado margarita in Paris, Harp.”
“Even with all that Grand Marnier and Cointreau they got there?” Harper’s handsome face twisted into a teasing grin.
“Give me plain old Triple Sec and Cuervo any day,” Catie said. “And I can’t wait to sink my teeth into some Colorado Angus. French food is wonderful, but I sure have missed Colorado cuisine.”
“Ma’s got a big homecoming planned at the house tomorrow night,” Harper said. “Everyone shy of Murphy’ll be there”—he winked—“including Chad McCray.”
“I couldn’t give two puny figs,” Catie said, avoiding her brother’s gaze.
Her words came out strong, with a huff and a scorn.
But they were one big ol’ lie.
* * *
The Bullfrog Lounge featured live music and the best margarita outside of Mexico. Or so the sign said. Mostly what the bar featured was a crowded dance floor that forced couples to mesh together whether the music was fast or slow. This suited Chad just fine. Miss Amber Cross was as gorgeous as he remembered, and tonight a tight denim skirt hugged those narrow hips like a snakeskin. Her bodacious breasts nearly poured out of her snug cotton tank top, and her platinum waves settled nicely over her sleek golden shoulders. Lips as red and full as he remembered, and he’d already had the pleasure of sampling them while they sat at the bar sipping their drinks. Another drink, a few more close dances, and he figured she’d be ready to hit the sack.
“What are you thinking about, cowboy?” Amber asked, as Chad led her back to their seats at the bar.
“Thinking another drink might be in order, honey.”
Amber sat down on her bar stool and crossed her creamy thighs. “That dancing did make me thirsty.”
