How to Handle a Cowboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

stood there, transfixed, as the bookcase groaned and tilted away from the wall in slow motion, vomiting its entire contents onto the floor like a messy drunk who’d downed too many psychology texts.
    Standing knee-deep in books, he could hear Tinker Bell trying to stifle her laughter. Darn it, the woman was always laughing at him. The worst thing was, he didn’t blame her. He felt like he was in the middle of some old silent comedy, where the intrepid hero tried to save the girl and met with one disaster after another.
    The only way to save his dignity was to actually save the girl.
    â€œHere.” He bent at the waist, cupping his hands and lacing his fingers together. “I’ll give you a leg up. See if you can get that transom open.”
    Cautiously, she set one foot in his interlaced hands. Her heels were liable to skewer him if he didn’t concentrate, but he couldn’t help moving his gaze upward, taking in the shadowy outline of ankles, calves, knees, thighs—and the little black skirt that topped it all off.
    His gaze paused at a tattoo peeping out between the waistband of her skirt and the hem of her top. It was a curving tendril that might have been anything from the stem of a flower to the tail of a dragon, and he wished he could hoist the top a little higher and check it out.
    Combine a mysterious tattoo with blond hair that somehow managed to be short and gloriously unruly at the same time, and green eyes that gave away every nuance of her changing moods, and you had one intriguing package. Better yet, she’d let him caress her and hadn’t asked for anything in return. In fact, she’d even insisted they forget the whole thing. He wondered what else she’d let him forget about.
    â€œWill you quit checking me out?”
    â€œSorry.” The foot, the foot, the foot. Only look at the foot. “Ready?”
    She nodded. Estimating her weight, he hoisted her into the air with what he hoped was just the right amount of gusto.
    And bonked her head on the ceiling.
    â€œOw.” She slid down, landing on a book that had ended up facedown on the floor. Executing a brief version of the Charleston, she wound up standing in the only clear place on the floor—which put her practically on the toes of his cowboy boots.
    They were standing toe to toe, with Sierra’s hands clutching his shoulders. The position brought her body right up to his, and he could feel the soft, warm give of her breasts. When she twisted against him, he wasn’t sure if she was trying to get closer to him or get away.
    That was the trouble with women. You could never tell what they were thinking. With men, there were obvious physical signs of attraction.
    Physical signs he needed to get control of right now.
    â€œHold on.” She popped up on her toes and nearly bopped him in the face with the top of her head. “I’m sure I can get up there if I…”
    The sentence ended in a grunt as she gripped him around the neck and wrapped one long leg around his waist. Good Lord. She was going to climb him like a tree. He felt like he was going to pass out.
    â€œCan you maybe help a little?” She had one foot still around his waist, while the other still stood tippy-toe on his boot, grinding his toes into bonemeal.
    â€œSure. How?”
    â€œI don’t know. Give me a boost.”
    â€œIs that the name of a soap or anything?”
    â€œNo! I mean it.”
    â€œAll right.” Reaching down, he palmed a butt cheek in each hand and hoisted her up toward the transom. All he succeeded in doing was bringing the panties under that little black skirt to face level.
    â€œThis isn’t going to work.” She seemed totally oblivious to his arousal as she slid slowly down the front of his body, clinging to him like a very attractive monkey as she went. Finally, she stepped away, scratching her head and looking from him to the transom.
    â€œMaybe you should bend over