Dylan Read Free Page A

him.
    â€œShe still looks dazed from that kiss you stole.”
    He tipped his hat to the back of his head. “That a fact?”
    His boss smiled at him, and he actually smiled back. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
    Dylan’s gut twisted remembering the chill of her rejection. “Maybe later. See you, Jolene.” When he’d stepped through the door, he paused and called out, “Hey boss?”
    She turned to look over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
    â€œThanks.”
    Jolene shook her head. “My pleasure, cowboy. Now get on home.”
    He may have hated stripping, but he didn’t mind working for Jolene. “You’re not as tough as you let on, Ms. Langley.”
    Her laughter followed him out into the night.
    ***
    Ronnie DelVecchio’s pulse still pounded wildly in time with her heart. Forget him, forget that kiss! she told herself. He’s just another guy pretending to be someone he’s not, dressing up like a cowboy, but paid to strip… and paid to make her feel special. But the calluses on his hands felt real, and his muscles felt like he used them for more than just show. When will I learn? Just because he’d mesmerized her with the dark and dangerous promise deep in his molten chocolate eyes was no reason to do something so stupid as to let him kiss her brainless and fall all over him. He was just a man… period. A cowboy wannabe.
    Now that he’d gone, the sizzling kiss they’d shared kept replaying over and over in her mind along with the feeling that she’d met him before. Damn, she’d always loved watching those old TV Westerns with her grandmother, and the man who’d lassoed her looked like a combination of John Wayne, Gary Cooper, and Roy Rogers all rolled up into one dangerously attractive man. Dark hair, dark eyes, gorgeous hunk of cowboy—he had to be one of Tyler Garahan’s brothers. The handsome hunk now had a name, and Garahan men spelled trouble. She had a reason to steer clear of him.
    Why am I talking to myself? I should be giving my friends hell for talking me into letting them blindfold me and setting me up to get lassoed and kissed by that hunkalicious cowboy. Her temper simmered, heating dangerously close to a boil. She would refuse to accept the blame for locking lips with the muscle-bound cowboy. That way you can take your anger at yourself out on everybody else.
    Her grandmother said it often enough that her own conscience replayed the words at the most irritating moments. The last time she’d heard the words she’d been getting into her cousin’s truck, preparing to leave her former life behind her to start a new one out West. Her grandmother hadn’t wanted her to leave but had accepted Ronnie’s decision to go as long as Ronnie promised to stay in touch, calling home often. Well, this was something she wouldn’t be telling her grandmother about.
    Besides, Ronnie was a grown woman and could accept blame… or place the blame on whomever she wished. As long as you’re honest with yourself. She looked over her shoulder and sighed. Having a conscience was a royal pain in the ass.
    Draining the Mega-Margarita, wishing she’d declined and gone for her usual longneck bottle of beer, Ronnie set the glass on the tabletop. The memory of the cowboy’s lips lightly pressed to hers, drawing her in, soothing her before he eased back and locked gazes with her, had her shivering. Remembering the way he’d waited for her to stop him—right before he rocked her world with that mind-blowing kiss. A kiss that sent sparks of desire screaming through her sensitized system like a shot of tequila. But she’d given up combining hard alcohol and men after her divorce; the two were not a good mix for her. Things always ended badly.
    â€œReady for another?”
    Before she could answer, her friend Shannon signaled the bartender for another.
    â€œI do not want another