Ohmygod. He had a dimple in the carved structure of his left cheek—an incredibly sexy dimple. His black hair curled into his collar in an unruly, wanton way. The heat of the sun was hot, but this sensual type of heat was much hotter. It burned through her body all the way to her toes and she curled them into her sandals.
Looking at his picture was one thing, but seeing him in the flesh was quite another. A neon sign seemed to blink in her mind. Cowboy. Dangerous. Stay away.
For the first time she was physically attracted to a man just by looking at him. She always thought that type of reaction was crazy when her girlfriends had giggled about it. Of course she’d found men handsome, but she’d never sleep with them just because of that. Brodie Hayes was different. With the crook of his finger…she drew in a deep breath. Weak and pliable she wasn’t.
“Ma’am?”
His voice was deep with a true Texas drawl that tightened her toes even more and sent her pulse into orbit. But somehow she managed to find her vocal cords.
“I was looking for the Circle C Ranch.” As a private investigator, she was used to thinking fast.
He shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
“I must have gotten the directions wrong.” She hated to play stupid, but sometimes it worked. “I’ll call my friend to see where I turned wrong.”
He just dipped his head in acknowledgement.
She’d hoped for some sort of conversation or introduction, but none came so she walked toward her car. She had no intention of leaving though. Getting in, she waited until he disappeared inside. Large oak trees shaded the house and the dogs trotted to one and lay down. A light breeze stirred the stifling heat.
A plan formed in her mind. If she could get something with his DNA on it, then Brodie wouldn’t have to know about Helen Braxton. It would save him some heartache. Counting to ten, she got out, marched to the front door and knocked.
He opened it immediately and her heart did a nervous flip-flop. If they could package masculinity, Brodie Hayes’s picture would be on the bottle. She was getting tired of that female reaction. He probably encountered it every day. He was just a man. Get over it, she told herself. She had a job to do.
“I’m sorry to bother you again, but my cell’s not working. May I please use your phone?”
“Sure.” He opened the door wider and she stepped into his home. She followed him through a foyer into a large den with a stone fireplace, hardwood floors and overstuffed leather furniture. A large plasma TV almost covered one wall and plaques, trophies, belt buckles and numerous items from his rodeo days were displayed in a large glass case that covered another wall.
She was taking in her surroundings, but trying to be discreet when he handed her a cordless phone.
“Thank you. I don’t know what’s wrong with my cell. I can’t get a signal.”
“That happens sometimes.”
She was getting the impression he was a man of few words. Engaging in a friendly chat wasn’t going to happen. Why wasn’t he curious or intrigued by a strange woman on his doorstep?
She had no choice but to place a call. She poked out her home number, hoping Naddy would be outside smoking another cigarette. Her luck didn’t hold. Naddy answered on the second ring.
“Nad, this is Alex. I’m afraid I’m lost. Could you please give me the directions again?”
“Who is this?” She heard the confusion in Naddy’s voice.
“Yes, I know. I’m always getting lost. But I’m a city girl and these country roads are so confusing.”
“I’m hanging up because you’re not making any sense. I get confused enough on my own.”
“You know me, and please don’t use a dumb blonde joke.”
“Oh. You’re stalling for time or staking out a place somewhere.” Bless her, Naddy finally got it.
“Yes. I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”
“Whatever, child. I got work to do.”
Naddy hung up and Alex did the same, handing the phone to Brodie, who had clicked on the six o’clock news. She hadn’t even made a blip on his male radar. Her fragile ego took a nosedive and she brought her thoughts back to the job she was here to do. Get DNA evidence.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes trailing toward the rodeo memorabilia. “Are those yours?”
He glanced at her. “Yes.”
She walked closer, staring at several silver and gold buckles. “So you’re a rodeo rider?”
“Used to be. Just a cowboy now. “
She held out her hand. “I’m Alex Donovan.”
Brodie took her hand, it was soft yet strong. Just like the lady, he thought. The moment he looked into her brown eyes he knew she wasn’t a casual type gal. “Nice girl” was written all over her pretty face—this was the type of woman he normally steered clear of. Women who wanted commitment, forever and a part of his soul in the bargain.
He chose women who didn’t get their hearts broken when he walked away, because that’s who he was—a walk-away type guy. His friends, Colter and Tripp, had found true love but he knew that wasn’t in the cards for him. Nesting wasn’t in his nature. Risking his life and staying on the move was. His father had said those were the qualities of a soldier, but he was a cowboy to the core.
Although it was true that these days he’d settled in one place. Risking his life was a day on the freeway pulling a horse trailer. Since his retirement from the rodeo, his life had changed, he had to admit that. But the woman hadn’t been made who could make him think about marriage.
Pity, he thought for a nostalgic moment, the blonde was very attractive. And something about the touch of her smooth skin against his sent his thoughts in an entirely different direction.
He released her hand. “I’m Brodie Hayes.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her smile lit up her face. Damn. She wasn’t just attractive. She was beautiful.
“I apologize for interrupting your evening.” She glanced at the TV.
The rise and fall of her breasts against the tank top caught his eye. He pulled himself up sharp. What was wrong with him? This woman wasn’t his type.
“No problem, ma’am.” He turned his attention back to the TV.
“May I please use your bathroom?”
“Down the hall to the right.” He breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared.
ALEX HURRIED to the bathroom, locked the door and went to work. She was looking for some of his hair. Bingo. A comb lay on the vanity with black strands in it. Not many, but it might be enough.
Pulling a plastic bag out of her pocket, she slipped the comb into it, then tucked it into her shorts. She flushed the commode and quickly made her way to the den.
Brodie had his eyes on the TV and didn’t even look up.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Sure,” he replied, sparing her a brief glance.
She had no choice but to leave. He could have been friendlier. She fumed about that all the way to her car. He was probably used to having his pick of women and today he just wasn’t interested. Or he wasn’t interested in her. Why did that hurt?
She’d just invaded his privacy and had stolen something from his house, so if she never saw him again that would probably be for the best—for both of them.
All the way into the city, she knew she had the evidence