leave
anyway. He definitely had never wanted to leave her .
Back in high school Tex and Alexandria had
been more than a little tight. The tiny spitfire had been
his best friend. It wasn't until after he’d left that he
had realized she’d actually meant a hell of lot more to
him than he’d ever comprehended. Those melting
chocolate eyes framed by thick curling lashes haunted
him at night. Those rosebud lips seemed to whisper to
him in the breeze while he was out on the range,
yearning for home. He missed the smell of her light
golden skin, missed the texture of the yards of shiny,
inky black curls he used to love to tug on to tease her.
How was it he’d never realized what a precious
find she was before? Had he been that blind as a
young buck not to see how sexy she was behind those
oversized sweaters and ankle-length skirts? They used
to spend many a lazy summer day in this very library;
Alex would read the romances she so dearly loved and
13
sigh, while he was usually researching new ways to
break a horse or breeding techniques. There weren’t
many cowboys who willingly admitted a love of
reading, but Alex had never made fun of him for it.
She’d encouraged it and even shown him some of her
fledgling writing.
After high school Alex had gone off to Austin to
college, and Tex was left with a hard choice. He could
stay on the ranch, demanding a tiny piece of what had
been a tiny operation, or he could strike out on his
own. He’d chosen to strike out, promising to write his
onetime best friend, but he never seemed to get
around to it.
Then he’d picked up the book, smiling at the
premise on the back. It had sounded eerily familiar.
He’d bought it on a whim, thinking of Alex the entire
time. Late that night in the bunkhouse, he’d begun to
read and he’d known with certainty Alex had written
it. It was a revised version of one of the romantic
cowboy tales she’d written in high school, and man
had she added the spice. The cowboy had tied the
heroine up seven ways to Sunday, done her in every
position possible and even some he’d never even heard
of before, and all without losing that sweet edge that
was so Alex.
Although his dreams of her had started long
before he’d ever seen that damn book, reading it had
made it worse. He had become a walking, talking
erection that nothing could appease but her. He didn’t
have a clue when it was he’d fallen head over heels for
her, but he was good and gone. It had gotten so bad he
couldn’t even look at another woman. It didn’t feel
right.
14
Since he’d returned a month ago, Tex had kept a
low profile. He only came into town late in the
afternoon and usually only here to the library. He
watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to
announce his return. First, he’d had to make sure she
wasn't attached. He wasn't quite sure what he would
have done in that case. Homicide wasn't something
he’d considered until he’d seen her again.
Time had been more than kind to Alexandria; it
had seasoned her just right. She had always been a
short, soft little thing. Now she was well rounded,
feminine and full. She had the kind of hips that invited
a nice, long, hard ride. Her skin seemed to gleam
tannish gold, deeper than what he remembered. He
hadn’t gotten close enough to smell her yet, but he
could imagine she smelled like wildflowers and honey.
Her hair now hung freely down her back in riotous
curls. No longer jet black, it seemed kissed with
browns and golds here and there. She used to always
gather it up in a ponytail. He had stroked himself to
completion many a night imagining grasping hold of
the tail and hanging on for the ride. No more. Now he
wanted to bury his face in it. He wanted the strands to
whip across his chest and belly while she rode him like
the wildcat he knew her to be underneath all that quiet
reserve. He wanted those apple cheeks heated, flushed
with passion, those
anyway. He definitely had never wanted to leave her .
Back in high school Tex and Alexandria had
been more than a little tight. The tiny spitfire had been
his best friend. It wasn't until after he’d left that he
had realized she’d actually meant a hell of lot more to
him than he’d ever comprehended. Those melting
chocolate eyes framed by thick curling lashes haunted
him at night. Those rosebud lips seemed to whisper to
him in the breeze while he was out on the range,
yearning for home. He missed the smell of her light
golden skin, missed the texture of the yards of shiny,
inky black curls he used to love to tug on to tease her.
How was it he’d never realized what a precious
find she was before? Had he been that blind as a
young buck not to see how sexy she was behind those
oversized sweaters and ankle-length skirts? They used
to spend many a lazy summer day in this very library;
Alex would read the romances she so dearly loved and
13
sigh, while he was usually researching new ways to
break a horse or breeding techniques. There weren’t
many cowboys who willingly admitted a love of
reading, but Alex had never made fun of him for it.
She’d encouraged it and even shown him some of her
fledgling writing.
After high school Alex had gone off to Austin to
college, and Tex was left with a hard choice. He could
stay on the ranch, demanding a tiny piece of what had
been a tiny operation, or he could strike out on his
own. He’d chosen to strike out, promising to write his
onetime best friend, but he never seemed to get
around to it.
Then he’d picked up the book, smiling at the
premise on the back. It had sounded eerily familiar.
He’d bought it on a whim, thinking of Alex the entire
time. Late that night in the bunkhouse, he’d begun to
read and he’d known with certainty Alex had written
it. It was a revised version of one of the romantic
cowboy tales she’d written in high school, and man
had she added the spice. The cowboy had tied the
heroine up seven ways to Sunday, done her in every
position possible and even some he’d never even heard
of before, and all without losing that sweet edge that
was so Alex.
Although his dreams of her had started long
before he’d ever seen that damn book, reading it had
made it worse. He had become a walking, talking
erection that nothing could appease but her. He didn’t
have a clue when it was he’d fallen head over heels for
her, but he was good and gone. It had gotten so bad he
couldn’t even look at another woman. It didn’t feel
right.
14
Since he’d returned a month ago, Tex had kept a
low profile. He only came into town late in the
afternoon and usually only here to the library. He
watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to
announce his return. First, he’d had to make sure she
wasn't attached. He wasn't quite sure what he would
have done in that case. Homicide wasn't something
he’d considered until he’d seen her again.
Time had been more than kind to Alexandria; it
had seasoned her just right. She had always been a
short, soft little thing. Now she was well rounded,
feminine and full. She had the kind of hips that invited
a nice, long, hard ride. Her skin seemed to gleam
tannish gold, deeper than what he remembered. He
hadn’t gotten close enough to smell her yet, but he
could imagine she smelled like wildflowers and honey.
Her hair now hung freely down her back in riotous
curls. No longer jet black, it seemed kissed with
browns and golds here and there. She used to always
gather it up in a ponytail. He had stroked himself to
completion many a night imagining grasping hold of
the tail and hanging on for the ride. No more. Now he
wanted to bury his face in it. He wanted the strands to
whip across his chest and belly while she rode him like
the wildcat he knew her to be underneath all that quiet
reserve. He wanted those apple cheeks heated, flushed
with passion, those
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