How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
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Bobby sat on the side of April's bed, pulling on jeans.
"You're not leaving." Her head rested on a fluffy feather pillow, her voice small and sleepy. "Where are you going?"
Bobby felt out of place in the room. Not just because John David shared the same bed with her, but because it was too effusive. Girly. Gigantic, ornate, hand-carved mahogany bed. Flowery wallpaper. A massive oil painting of a naked redheaded woman with a come-hither look hung above her bed.
A Remington print was on the cedar wall above his.
"Some people have to work." Bobby stood, bare-chested, facing her, buttoning his jeans. She was drop-dead gorgeous, even first thing in the morning. Got to give the woman that. The mass of copper-colored hair fell all around her bare shoulders. She looked like a magazine cover, even in her sleep. Nothing washed away such augmented beauty.
She tilted her head and arched her back. "I want you."
He smiled, wide. "You wore me out." He sat back on the side of the bed, pulling on boots.
"I don't believe it."
Slipping his arms inside his long shirt sleeves, Bobby walked around the foot of the bed, stopping beside April, admiring her firm, unblemished body. "Do you still want to get married?"
"Oh! Bobby!" She bolted upright in the bed, comfortable in her bare skin. "Yes!"
He sat beside her, gazing into her eyes. Maybe, if he looked deeply enough and long enough, he could see what was hidden deep inside.
"I'll marry you, April. But I expect children. I want heirs. Plural. Maybe three kids. The Watsons will never again be in this position, with only one person to keep the legacy alive." He nodded at her. "You made me see it." He kissed her, then stood, buttoning his shirt. "I saw the look on your face last night. I won't accuse you of having anything to do with what happened to Til—"
April jumped from the bed, pushing past him, her eyes darting wildly. She snatched her robe from the chest at the foot of her bed, whipping the sash around her waist angrily, glaring at him. "A proposal and Tillie in the same breath? Have you lost your mind?"
"That's the deal, April. Take it or leave it. I'm not a man who feels the need to be married. I don't have to have chestnuts roasting on an open fire. But I do want heirs and you were right the other day. Remember, I studied genetics. You're a smart, beautiful, crazy chestnut mare with just the right genes. Our kids could rule Texas."
"So, you want a dam?" Her gaze was narrow and mean.
They stood facing each other, him near the head of the bed, April at the foot.
"I guess. If you want to put it that way."
She sneered. "Our kids could run the country."
"I agree. But hear me, April. I don't trust you. If you want my trust, you'll have to earn it."
