The men and not a few of the women hooted at Sally’s brazen declaration.

  Charissa widened her eyes as she thought she grasped the meaning of their words. Was this one of the sex clubs she’d heard the hired hands discussing one night? What was it called? A strip joint? No, she remembered the hands talking about women taking off their clothes at a strip joint. Although scantily clad, this woman had clothes on. No, this was something different.

  “Let ‘er rip, Tyler.” Sally gripped the saddle horn in front of her and looked at one of the men near a box whose flat surface was covered in switches and toggles.

  Tyler saluted the girl on the bull. “Level one coming up, Sal.”

  With a flick of a switch, the mechanical bull began moving. At first the movement was only a dipping motion as the barrel rocked back and forth from front to back. But after a few seconds, a sideways action started, weaving the mechanical bull side to side. Cheers rose up from the crowd as Sally held on to the strap and horn in front of her.

  “Take it up a notch, Ty!” Sally’s shout could barely be heard over the clamor of the spectators.

  “You got it, girl. Going to level two.”

  Charissa watched in fascination as the actions of the mechanical bull increased in speed, mixing the forward and reverse motions in with the side to side maneuvers. Sally threw one arm in the air, giving new energy to the calls of encouragement around her.

  This is another game the people like to play. Charissa’s smile grew as Sally’s shirt popped two buttons with the strain on the material. Oh. I see. Riding the mechanical bull is one game, but what Sally is doing is a whole different game. A game to attract the men. Catcalls echoed in her thoughts as more and more of Sally’s chest became exposed.

  “Level three, Ty!” Sally renewed her hold with both hands as the speed and complexity of the movements threatened to throw her from the bucking machine. She reached out to grip the strap harder, putting more strain on the skimpy blouse stretched tightly across her bosom. One after another, the buttons sprang free. She hung on, moving her crotch to rub against the saddle in an obvious sexual imitation. Sliding back and forth, Sally closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips, her face taking on a rapt expression as the men around her shouted, “Keep riding, Sally. Ride, Sally, ride.”

  Tyler, who hadn’t taken his eyes from Sally’s chest during the whole show, turned the round wheel on the control panel. “Level four!”

  The bull whipped into higher gear and, suddenly, Sally had more than she could handle just trying to stay on the bull. The bull rocked her back and forth vigorously until, to the total glee of the men, her tight-fitting blouse popped its final button, exposing her generous breasts.

  Charissa held her ears as the calls of the delighted men roared around her. Sally, supposedly unaware of her public exposure—Yeah, right—kept her eyes closed as she clung to the bull. At last, one of the many women who carried around trays of drinks, gave her tray to a protesting man, climbed over the hay and ran her finger horizontally across her neck. “Shut it down, Tyler. Now!”

  Hearing the woman’s order, Sally opened her eyes, took one look at her bouncing boobs and grinned sheepishly at her admiring crowd. “Oh, my! How did my blouse get open?” As the bull slowed down to the disappointment of all the men, Sally batted her eyes in a not-so-genuine attempt at innocence.

  “Gee, Sally, I wonder how. Don’t cha just hate it when that happens? Same thing happened to me in church last Sunday.” The woman who’d carried the tray—Someone had called her a waitress—shook her head at Sally as she slid off the bull and half-heartedly gathered her blouse over her breasts.

  “Aw, come on, Claire. You know we love the Sally Show.” The man beside Charissa poked his friend in the ribs. “Ain’t that right, Luke?”

  “Damn straight.” Luke raised his glass to Sally. “She’s the best. No need to get all uptight, Claire-honey, just ‘cuz your chest is flatter than road kill from a semi.”

  Claire stuck her middle finger in the air at Luke. “Shut up, you jerk.” Turning to Sally who still couldn’t keep her shirt pulled together, she added, “Look, Sally, we know you love to show your titties, but twice in one week is too much. Hell, it’s only Friday night. You’ve got the whole weekend ahead of you to flaunt your bod. In fact, why don’t you head over to Bobby’s Boob House and show them as much as you want? You might even get paid in money instead of beer. Plus, whatever you can take home whatever you charge the horndog.”

  Now Charissa remembered. Bobby’s Boob House. That’s the strip joint. But what is a horndog?

  At first the men burst into laughter, but their mirth quickly died as Claire threw a washrag over Sally’s chest. With the men cussing and telling her to mind her own business, Claire led Sally out of the circle and toward a door marked “Fillies.” A couple of men tried to follow them, but Claire stopped them at the door.

  Fillies are female horses. Which probably meant the place beyond that sign is meant for only women. Charissa knew her reasoning was correct when one of the men who’d trailed after the women shrugged his shoulders and diverted toward the door marked “Studs.” She scoffed as the overweight, slovenly dressed male disappeared into the unknown place. “Apparently a male doesn’t have to be much of a stud to gain access.” No doubt, however, Travis would pass any stud requirements.

  Charissa turned to the mechanical bull. Men liked watching women ride that machine. And it was obvious the women knew how to use their fascination to their advantage. She smiled as the idea formed in her mind.

  ****

  “You’re shitting me.” Travis’ longtime friend, Jim Hallen, whacked him on the arm and laughed. “No horse falls down on its side. Especially not a stud with a seasoned mare in his sight. Hell, I’ve seen studs take a man down trying to break into the breeding chute. And you’re telling me Adonis, stud extraordinaire, flopped down on his side? He didn’t even appear interested in the mare? And the vet couldn’t find anything wrong with him? You’re bullshitting me, man.”

  “Jim, I wish like hell I was. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Travis slanted his Stetson away from his brow as he looked around The Happy Trails Bar and Dance Hall. After the frustrating, not to mention costly day he’d had, he’d needed a night away from the ranch. A night without horses. A night of good, hard, “forget the shitty day I just had kind of fun.”

  “So you just left him there?”

  Travis tossed his friend an exasperated look. “Of course not. After an hour of working on him, the vet declared he was stumped. He couldn’t find anything wrong with him. Other than a severe bout of diarrhea, that is. But even that cleared up quick enough. Believe it or not, Doc said I needed to find a specialist, but I’m thinking I need a witch doctor. Either that or a horse psychologist.”

  Jim laughed again and held up his hands in defense when Travis glared at him. “Sorry, but those are words I never thought I’d hear you say. A horse whisperer, huh? Yeah, right.”

  The two friends crossed the room to belly up to the long bar on the far wall. After ordering two drafts, they turned and leaned their backs against the bar to watch the people dancing to a lively two-stepping song. Travis ground his teeth and wished he could sing. Better to be a country singer than a rancher with a mentally ill horse.

  “So how was Adonis when you left?”

  “We managed to get him to his feet, but no way could we get him into the chute.” Travis downed half his drink in one gulp. “After all the money I’ve spent on him, I’ll be lucky to keep the ranch out of the greedy hands of the bankers.”

  Jim patted him on the back in an attempt to act the supportive friend instead of the sarcastic one. “Maybe things will be better tomorrow.”

  “I hope the hell they are. I’m running out of time. Princess Dancer’s not going to stay in heat forever.” Travis motioned for the bartender to refill their beer mugs. “Keep ‘em coming, Charlie. I’m planning on forgetting this day as fast as I can.”

  Charlie slid them a couple of chilled mugs. “I heard about your stud, Travis. Weird shit, man.”

  How the hell…? Travis caught himself before his jaw dropped all the way to his chest. Bad news traveled fast in a small town. Nonetheless, if he ever found out which of his hands had played messenger with this news, he’d kick him to the curb faster than a hound dog tracking a raccoon. News like this could ruin his reputation as one of the best up-and-coming breeders in Texas.

  “How the hell did you hear?”

  Travis cringed at Jim’s question, knowing the possibility of getting reliable information from a bartender was next to nil.

  A fact Charlie confirmed. “Aw, shit, Jim, you know how. It’s all around the bar.” Charlie fisted his hands on his hips in a nonverbal challenge of “Dare me to spill the beans because I’m not talking.”

  “Right, Charlie.” Even though he’d known what Charlie’s answer would be, he didn’t have to like it. “We know.” Travis knew he’d gotten his message across from the dour expression on the bartender’s face.

  “Never mind, Jim. Let it drop for tonight. Let’s concentrate on having a good time.”

  Charlie waved away Travis’ money. “Forget it. After the crap I heard about your trouble the first two are on the house. But I’ll be glad to run a tab for the rest.”

  Jim beat Travis to the punch. “Do that. On me.” Jim clinked his mug to Travis’ mug and quipped, “Good enough. Let the good times roll. How about—”

  But Jim never finished his sentence. Instead, his mouth fell open as his gaze locked on something across the room. Travis pivoted to see what had his usually unflappable friend stymied.

  Damn. Damn in a good way. An excellent way. The best way possible way.

  Travis forgot about everything and everyone else as he stared at the woman riding the mechanical bull. The short shorts she wore rode up her legs, exposing yards of firm, yet touchable skin. Her dark green shirt, tied up under her breasts shimmered against the lustrous tone of her skin. Her long, black hair cascaded down to her amazing, round bottom as the bull gently rocked her back and forth, back and forth. Slender, mile-long legs hugged the side of the machine as she let go of the grip to take her hat in her hand. Waving it around, she yipped and hooted. His gaze latched onto her amble bosom to watch her breasts rise and fall with the rhythmic motion.

  “Holy shit, man. Would you take a look at that?”

  Jim’s awed tone matched the sensation filling Travis. Here was that woman again. The one he’d seen the day he’d purchased Adonis. The woman who’d seemed so out-of-place like a visitor from another country. But she didn’t look like a fish out of water now. No, she looked right at home as her supple body danced an erotic tango with the bull. A tango Travis wanted to dance with her.

  She’s incredible. I’ve never seen anyone like her. Travis swallowed as his throat grew dry, like a man who’d suddenly realized he’d been dying of thirst. Yes, he thirsted for something, but it wasn’t the beer he held. No, he wanted another type of sustenance. A sweet nectar only this particular woman could give. Just like he’d known from the first time he’d seen her.

  Her body flowed over the bull almost as if there was a cushion of air between her and the saddle. Even though the machine was cranked up to a higher level of speed, she raised her hands above her head, lifting her breasts higher as if to beckon everyone’s attention to the taut tits showing through the thin fabric.

  Holy shit. Where does she come from? And what’s her name? She’d told me her name. How could he have forgotten her name? Travis moved toward the mechanical bull and the beautiful raven haired woman riding it. “It’s her, Jim.” Her name is something lyrical. Something beautiful like her.

  “You know her?” The envy in Jim’s voice was undeniable.

  “Yeah. Sort of. She was there when I picked up the stud.” Charissa. She’d said her name is Charissa. “Her name’s Charissa.”

  “And you didn’t go after her?” Jim slugged down the rest of his beer. “Why the hell not?”

  Yeah, why the hell didn’t I? “Damned if I know. I-I remember thinking she was so hot. So exotic. So something else.” And it would seem everyone else agreed with him. Men and women alike gathered around the hay surrounding the machine, clapping and cheering the woman on. Travis glanced around the bar. In fact, everyone from Charlie the bartender to all the hardworking cowboys from various ranches had their eyes clued on her. And they all wore the same, shit-eating grin.

  “Jim, what’s with all these people?” But when he turned to face Jim he saw the same silly grin and glassy-eyed, mesmerized expression. As if the fascinating woman had placed a spell over the whole bar. Excerpt for him.

  He swung back to her, drawn to her, as her dark eyes latched onto him and sucked the air straight out of his lungs. She smiled a shy smile but the sparkle in her eyes contradicted any thought of shyness he thought she might possess. Instead, she beckoned to him, drawing him to her until all he wanted in this world was to crawl inside her, be with her, stay with her and forget anything else existed.

  Fear rushed through him.

  No way could he afford to get involved with anyone right now. He had a business that demanded all of his attention and he needed to keep every ounce of his energy, his focus on growing his name and his reputation. The money he’d inherited from his wealthy investment banker father could only take him so far in the horse breeding venture. The rest was up to him.

  Something told him this woman would demand all his attention, leaving nothing for anything else.

  Stay away from her. She’s trouble with a capital “T.” Along with sexy with a capital “S.” Travis frowned and tried to look away from her, but found he couldn’t get his head to move. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Riding the bull even faster now, Charissa kept her gaze on him and nodded her head. He nodded back, uncertain of what he’d just agreed to.

  Jim broke into tears.

  Whether it was because of Jim’s strange outburst or because she’d allowed him freedom—allowed him freedom? where had that thought come from?—Travis whirled to face his friend. Shock rippled through him as he watched his best friend, a man who’d never shed a tear in his life, cry into his beer.

  “Jim, what’s the matter with you?” Travis grabbed Jim’s shoulder to shake him. “Get a grip, man. What’s wrong?”

  Jim tried to explain, but his words got muffled by his sobs. “I. Can’t. Whehalp. Myurgh.”

  Travis concentrated on watching Jim’s mouth, hoping he could read his lips and tell what he was saying. But it didn’t help.

  A loud wail sounded behind him. Keeping his hand on Jim, Travis turned toward the sound as it continued to grow louder. An older man with the appearance of a seasoned cowboy who’d seen plenty of bad days and survived them, plopped down on the floor and bawled. Astonished, Travis scanned the bar and saw the same reaction in everyone around him. Every single person in the bar, from the hardnosed waitress, Mertle, to the bouncers keeping watch by the exits, cried as if the world had come to an end. Every single person that is, except him and the gorgeous woman heading his way.

  Charissa strolled toward him, her eyes on him, oblivious to the sobbing people around her. Instead, she studied him as if he were an interesting new kind of species. He stood, unable to think what to say or do, and waited for her.

  Who was this woman? Why did she hold such power over him? Travis tried to gather his wits, but all he could think was that she’d tell him what he needed to know. She had all the answers.

  Charissa’s long, lean body, clad in skin-tight shorts and a too-small shirt slinked toward him, drawing closer and closer until, at last, she was right in front of him. She nodded again and he opened his mouth to speak, hoping anything would come through his constricted throat.

  And gaped as she stepped past him into the arms of another man. A man who’d abruptly stopped crying like the rest of the bar’s patrons.

  “Damn. Did I just stand here and cry like a baby?”

  Travis looked at Jim who wiped his eyes dry as the crimson of embarrassment flowed into his cheeks. “Yeah, you did. Everyone did.” Except me. Why not me? Thank God not me.

  “Shit. I don’t cry. I never cry.”

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry about it. Like I said, everyone’s in the same boat as you and, judging from their expressions, they’re feeling just as stupid as you do. But forget about it. I’m sure everyone else wants to do the same. I sure do.”

  Trying as hard as he could, he couldn’t keep from looking at her again. The delighted young man who held her had his eyes fixed on her breasts as she rubbed up against him. What the hell does a woman like her see in a runt like him? Yet Travis quickly brushed the question away. What did he care? She was nothing to him. He shouldn’t give a crap what she did. Yet he did care. And even though he tried to resist, he cared a lot.

  But Travis wasn’t the only one getting angry at the man holding her. Jim’s embarrassment faded as he growled his displeasure. His growl grew lower and meaner as he stepped toward the couple.

  “Hold up, Jim. What’re you doing?”

  Jim ignored him and yanked the cowboy’s arms away from her. “Let go of her, asshole.”

  Asshole? Since when had soft-spoken Jim ever used that word? Much less argued over a woman? Travis moved next to his friend. “Hey, Jim. Don’t go there.”

  “Back off, man. The lady’s with me.”

  Charissa smiled a smile that promised everything and nothing at the same time. “Travis, is there something you and your friend wanted?”

  You. I want you. Travis opened his mouth to say so and clamped it shut a second before the words escaped. “Nah.” Taking Jim’s arm, he tried to veer him away. “Come on, Jim. Let’s get a beer.”

  “Yeah, I want something, little lady. I want this punk to take his hands off you. You belong with a real man. Like me.”

  Little lady? Travis shot Jim an “are you kidding?” look. “When did you start talking like John Wayne?”