Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys (33 page)

She'd wanted Trace, and he hadn't wanted that.

That was also okay now. She felt at peace with everything that had been painful, thanks to what she'd learned here about herself.

When the day was over, she went to Shorty, handed in her gear.

He looked at her. “What's this?”

She took a deep breath. “Thank you for training me and believing in me.”

He squinted at her. “You going somewhere? I've got plans for you. We've only just begun on what you're capable of.”

“I'm going, Shorty. But I didn't know it until today.”

“Kind of hits you like that, doesn't it?”

“What does?”

Shorty smiled. “Love.”

Ava took a deep breath. “Right between the eyes.”

“Best kind there is,” Shorty said happily. “I've been married thirty-four years, and it still hits me between the eyes.”

“Thanks, Shorty.” She hugged him, went to grab her stuff.

Stopped in her tracks at the sight of Trace waiting outside, leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles, hat down low over a strong, clean-shaven face she knew so well. She glanced at the gleaming black motorcycle parked beside him with two helmets on the back. “Trace?”

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, hitting her the same way it always had: right between the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Hell's first female bullfighter. Wouldn't have missed it for the world.”

“How did you—” Shorty. Of course he would have told Trace that today was the big day. “I see.” She nodded. “Thanks for the support. And for believing in me. It meant … it meant a lot. I learned so much.” Her gaze stayed on his.

He jerked his head toward the gleaming bike, and her heart sped up. “Check it out.”

“What is it?” Ava asked.

“I hear it's a crisis resolver.”

Her gaze returned to his. “Are you having a crisis?”

Trace looked at her, his eyes so serious she felt like she might fall in. “I believe I am,” he said. “It started the day you walked into the Hell's Outlaws Training Center, and it hasn't let up since.”

There wasn't anything she could say to that. She completely understood—but that didn't make it any easier. And it was nice of him to come and see her first day as a bullfighter, but seeing him had just opened up a heart she'd barely begun to heal.

“How about a ride?”

“Where to?”

He captured her fingers, reminding Ava of how much she'd always loved his touch. Craved it.

“How about to Hell?”

She looked at him, wanting desperately to jump into his strong arms, held herself back. His dark eyes twinkled, that always-stray black lock of hair falling almost over his eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to say
Hell, yes
.

“I know you're not looking for a Saturday Night Special,” Trace said. “Then again, that's not what I'm offering.”

Her heart leaped with hope. She shoved it back down. There was only one way she was going to have her cowboy, and that was if she had all of him. “What are you offering?”

He took her in his arms. “How about a Special every night of the week?”

“Every night?” Being in his arms again felt so good she found herself trembling a
little. Daring to hope. “Can you take it?”

Trace smiled. “The question is, can I live without you?” He kissed her deeply, and Ava sighed as all the doubt of the past several months slipped away. “And the answer is, no, I can't. Come back to Hell, Ava. It hasn't been the same without you.
I
haven't been the same without you,” he said, his voice strong and deep, sending shivers all over her. “Nothing, absolutely not one thing, is the same without your smile. I'm head over heels in love with you. As I told you, I'm no hero. But I'm a lot closer with you in my life.”

She let him carry her to his motorcycle, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to kiss him, hold him close, falling happily into forever. Who would have ever thought she'd find a red-hot cowboy in Hell?

And even better, a little slice of heaven.

“So now what?” Cameron asked Judy, surrounded by their usual group at Redfeathers on a Friday night—sans Ava and Trace, who, they'd heard through the grapevine, were taking an extended motorcycle ride back to Hell.

One might even call it a honeymoon of sorts. Judy smiled at Cameron. “What do you mean, now what?”

Cameron and Harper glanced at each other. Saint and Declan tried to look cool, as if they weren't eating the girls up with their eyes, doing a terrible job at not succeeding. Beside Judy, his arm around her shoulders, Steel chuckled.

“They want what they came here for, Judy,” Steel said.

Well, they weren't getting it, not just yet, and not the way they thought they wanted it. Judy settled back in the booth, her gaze on her very talented, very promising young team, and eyed Saint and Declan again. The men were casual, hunky, hungry.

She had chosen her team well.

Saint was going to be a tough nut to crack. Declan might be the toughest nut of all. Trace had been the easy nut to shake from the tree. Declan and Saint claimed—from watching their buddy's fall—that they got the game, that they knew that Judy had a plan which involved women and the defenseless bachelors of Hell. They said they wouldn't be ripe for the picking, that they had zero interest in women beyond casual sex. Steel had thought that proclamation was a riot. Hot sexual attraction couldn't solve everything, but it certainly helped guide the wary wolf into the fold, and Saint and Declan could eventually be guided there with the right sort of sexy encouragement.

Judy sent a glance Steel's way, and he laughed, his eyes crinkling as he practically read her mind. There was much left to do in Hell before the happy ending was written, but she had her sheriff, and they were a team.

Team Hell.

USA Today
bestselling and award-winning author T
INA
L
EONARD
writes with humor, sexiness, and fun. With nearly three million books sold, she plans to keep writing the books readers enjoy. Her writing schedule keeps her very busy with independent heroines and the irresistible heroes who love them. You can visit Leonard online at
www.tinaleonard.com
,
Pinterest.​com/​TinaLeonard1
, and
Twitter.​com/​Tina_​Leonard
, and enjoy cover reveals on her fan page at
Facebook.​com/​author​tinaleonard
.

Most people look forward to summer vacations: warm, sunny days filled with nothing but reading on the agenda. Every year, I can't wait to lie on the beach, lounge by the pool, or relax at a picnic at the park—always with a good book in my hands. If you're looking for some hot reads, Loveswept has some great ones this month. But I warn you—it's going to be a fiery summer.

June brings two scorching reunion stories: Lea Griffith's Loveswept debut,
Too Much
, an erotic romance where two lovers who have shared exquisite pain and unforgettable bliss find solace back in each other's arms; and Serena Bell's heartwarming
Hold On Tight
, about a young mother and a battle-scarred veteran who must decide if they can rekindle the sparks they once shared. Speaking of sparks, in Jamie Schmidt's stylish and sexy book,
Heat
, a martial arts trainer introduces an ER doctor to a passion so intense she wants nothing more than to surrender to his touch. Then the temperature rises with the first book of Tina Leonard's seductive new Hells Outlaws series,
Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys
, which brings passion hotter than the Texas sun. And if you're looking for a classic romance, look no further than Iris Johansen's steamy novel,
Wicked Jake Darcy
, where fate brings together a carefree beauty and a charismatic playboy—only to separate them all too soon.

~Happy Romance!        

Gina Wachtel
Associate Publisher

“Don't stop,” Saint Markham said, sure he'd explode if the sexy redhead stopped doing what she was doing. He was going to explode if she kept going, too, so either way, he was in for the ride of his life. Cameron Dix was sweet, she was hot, and she was driving him mad, stroking him with sure hands, every once in a while tantalizing him with a flick of that sexy pink tongue he'd been staring at for months. But he was determined to avoid the fiery redheaded honey trap Mayor Judy Jasper thought she was going to lay on him.

He'd avoided the trap, but Cameron's hands were just too soft, too eagerly determined to turn the heat up to full blast on him. “Don't stop,” he said again, reaching for that long, red, wild hair he'd been dying to run his hands through—coming up with short, silky handfuls of hair instead.

His eyes flew open. “Damn it, Prince!” he yelled, and the golden-furred dog greeted him with chocolate doggie eyes, gave his ear one last lick, hopped out of Saint's bed, and headed to the back door, waiting impatiently for his bowl to be filled.

Saint cursed, dragged himself from bed, tugging on his jeans over a rock-hard situation. Dream number one thousand by now, surely. Cameron Dix haunted him, her spell on him as sure as any spell Hell, Texas, had ever seen. He couldn't be free of her even in his sleep. Five o'clock in the morning, and the only action he was getting was from Trace Carter's hound, whom he'd agreed to keep for a few days, slurping at his ear to wake him for breakfast.

He wanted Cameron Dix. Had the hots for her like nothing he'd ever wanted before. But Cameron had stayed well away from him ever since one of her fellow teammates, Ava Buchanan, had taken down his buddy Trace.

He was fine with distance.

“Damn dog,” he told Prince, who barked at him to open the door and get on with serving the eats. He ruffled the dog's ears affectionately, patted his back, and pulled open the door.

Gawked at Cameron Dix standing on the other side, her red hair wild and
beautiful, her pink lips wide open as he'd clearly caught her in the act of doing something she didn't want to be caught doing at his back door.

Prince was going to get a treat later for alerting him to his early, early morning visitor. This woman wanted him, she wanted him bad, and now all the pretense of distance could be swept away.

Not that she was going to get what she'd come for—but let the record note that she'd ventured onto his turf.

“What's up, Cameron?”

She hid something behind her back. “Not much.”

Ah, wasn't she cute. She thought she was going to get away with whatever her plan was. First thing she needed to learn in Hell was that she was no Mayor Judy Jasper when it came to effective manipulation—and he was no Trace Carter to be worked like an easy mark. “Something's up. Unless you make a habit of hanging out at my back door.”

Her chin went up. “Don't flatter yourself.”

She definitely had something behind her back. There was only one way to solve this standoff, show her he was nobody's fool. Saint jerked her toward him, a mistake he rued when a cloud of strawberry-scented red hair swirled around his face and sweet, round breasts bounced into his chest. Lust swept him like a heavenly river dragging him down.

Oh, shit. She's got me now
.

So soft, yet lean and tight from all the riding she did. Cameron met him at almost eye level, which put him too close to her wide-eyed expression and moist, sweet lips.

He had to avoid those lips.

Just reach around her, find out what she's holding behind her back. You know you're getting set up for something. Puncture Judy's plan so she knows just who she's messing with—no way in hell is she going to spring the trap shut on Saint Markham the way she did your buddy, Trace
.