Date with a Cowboy: Iron Cowboy / In the Arms of the Rancher / At the Texan's Pleasure. Diana Palmer
and gave Max her best glare. “I won’t have you arrested,” she said quietly. “But if you ever touch me again, I’ll show you how much I learned in Chief Grier’s self-defense course last fall.”
“It won’t happen again,” Jared replied. He took Max firmly by the arm. “Thanks for inviting us,” he told Cy, “but we have to go.”
Tony grimaced. “Yeah. Sorry,” he added, smiling at Sara. “That barbecue sure smelled good.”
“Can’t you stay?” Sara asked Tony gently.
He lit up like a Christmas tree at her tone.
Jared muttered something under his breath and Max protested as his hand tightened bruisingly on her arm.
Tony glanced at his boss and sighed. “No. I got to go, too. See you, Sara.”
She smiled. “See you.”
The three walked away with stiff backs. Sara could have kicked Max. She’d ruined everything.
“Thanks, Chief Grier,” Sara told the town’s police chief.
He shrugged. “You were my star pupil,” he replied. He grinned. “I wish you’d pressed charges, though. I would have enjoyed locking her up.”
“Locking who up?” Tippy Grier asked curiously, joining her husband. The “Georgia Firefly” as she’d been known in modeling circles was still gorgeous, with long reddish-gold hair and green eyes. She smiled at Sara, and then frowned when she saw the red marks on her cheek. “What in the world happened?” she exclaimed.
“Jared Cameron’s lawyer hit her,” Harley said angrily.
“A man hit you?” Tippy gasped.
“A woman,” Sara corrected. “It was because of the flies.”
Tippy stared at her, wide-eyed. “Flies. Right.”
“No,” Sara laughed. “I mean, she thought I was laughing at her because she attracted flies.”
“Good riddance, I say,” Harley muttered, watching Jared’s Jaguar peel out and roar away. “The poor flies will probably drop dead now.”
Sara was disappointed, because she’d hoped that she might have a chance to dance with Jared. But she hated herself for the thought. He’d been horrible to her about Harley, and now he’d sided with Max. But Tony had defended her. Sweet Tony.
“Who was the big fella with Jared?” Cash asked curiously.
“Tony the Dancer,” Cy answered before Sara could.
Everybody looked at him.
He realized at once what a slip he’d made. “I heard Jared call him that,” he said at once.
They still looked at him. He’d used Jared’s first name, something he never did with strangers.
He cursed. “Just pretend I didn’t say a word, and let’s go and eat barbecue,” he muttered. He bent to Lisa, smiling, and picked his little son up in his arms.
“Daddy!” Gil enthused, hugging his father around the neck.
The burned arm was still a little weak, but it didn’t show. The look on his face as he held the little boy was indescribable.
“Gil’s growing,” Tippy said, smiling at the child.
“So is our Tris,” Cash replied. “She’s two now. Rory’s twelve. He’s crazy about his niece.” Rory was Tippy’s younger brother.
“Speaking of Tris,” Tippy grinned, looking past her husband’s shoulder.
Rory had little Tris up in his arms and was carrying her around, laughing. She looked just like her mother, with red hair and green eyes, and she was wearing a pretty little green-patterned cotton dress with white shoes. She was holding on to Rory for all she was worth, talking to him.
Rory, taller now, had dark hair and green eyes, and he obviously doted on the little girl.
“She can walk, you know,” Cash told the boy with a smile.
“She likes it when I carry her, though,” Rory replied, grinning. “Isn’t she just the neatest thing in the world?” he added, kissing the little girl’s hair.
“You’re spoiling her,” Tippy laughed.
Rory shook his head. “No, I’m not. I just carried her away from the ice cream. She talked Randy into giving her a bowl of it, but I made him take it back.”
“Wanted ice cream, Rory,” Tris pouted. “Bad Rory.”
He only chuckled.
Tippy held out her arms for Tris, who got a tighter hold on her uncle. “No!” she said. “Want Rory!”
Cash looked down at his wife musingly. “So there.”
She laughed, pressing close against him. “All right, Tris,” she told her daughter. “Rory, when your arms get tired, bring her back.”
“Okay, sis.” He went off toward the fenced pasture where horses were grazing.
Harley excused them and drew Sara along with him to the tables where plates of barbecue and beans and rolls were being served up.
“You sure you’re all right?” Harley asked, concerned.
Sara nodded. “It was a shock, that’s all.”
“I don’t like that smarmy lawyer,” he muttered darkly. “But she and her boss do suit one another. They’re both bad company.”
Sara didn’t answer him. She was remembering the hard look Jared had given Max. He hadn’t liked the woman’s reaction to Sara. That was comforting. But her face still stung.
The Latin music played by the Mariachi band had everyone who could walk streaming up onto the wooden dance floor Cy had built for the occasion. Strings of large Japanese lanterns provided light, after the sun went down, and there was a crowd swaying to the rhythm.
Matt Caldwell and his wife, Leslie, were doing a spirited paso doble while Cash and Tippy Grier looked on from the sidelines. They exchanged mischievous glances, got up, held hands and moved onto the dance floor.
“Bet you can’t do a tango,” Cash chided.
Matt gave him a wicked grin. “You lose. Hey, Paco!” he called to the band leader. “Tango!”
The band leader and his band all laughed, stopped playing, measured the rhythm and then sailed into a Tango number that was all fire and passion.
Everybody except the two couples evacuated the dance floor, expecting a real competition.
They got one. It was a duel, and both couples put on their best form for it. As the music built to a crescendo, both couples stopped at the same time, in lingering poses, as the band finished the number.
But it was a draw, as the dancers had figured it would be. They laughed and shook hands as the audience went wild with clapping and cheering.
“Pity we don’t have trophies,” Cy Parks drawled.
“Next time, we have to have a waltz contest!” Harley called. He’d been studying the dance for months, and he was good at it.
“I learned to waltz in Austria,” Cash called to him.
Harley flapped his hand at the police chief.
The music started again, this time a lazy two-step. Just as Harley turned to take Sara onto the dance floor, he was bypassed.
Jared Cameron lifted Sara gently into his arms, carried her onto the wooden dance platform and eased her to the floor.
“My turn,” he said softly, and he smiled in a way that made her heart race.
She slid her free arm around his