Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys Read Online Free PDF Page B

Saint had come inside the office to badger him some more about Judy’s team. “Don’t even ask.”
    He kept his gaze on the papers on his desk. Declan and Saint could lose their minds at the sight of pretty faces—darn pretty faces—but Trace intended to stand firm. Standing firm was what had saved him and many a warrior under harsh conditions.
    A pert fanny slid onto his desk, right at the edge of his sight. Trace glanced up, the sight of Ava, damp and a bit ruffled from her ride, a very appealing thing to his miserably lonely libido. “What do you want?” he said.
    She shrugged. “Nothing.”
    He waited. “You’re annoying me for a reason.”
    â€œMaybe I like being around you because you’re such a pleasant person.”
    Trace laughed. “Probably I am. How’d you enjoy sleeping in my house last night?”
    She shrugged. “I’ve stayed in better, I’ve stayed in worse. I didn’t come to Hell for the accommodations.”
    He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, studying her. “Clearly you can ride. You could be training riders; you could be competing. Why are you signing on to Judy’s madcap scheme?”
    â€œWhy do you care?”
    He cared because she was so darling he practically felt pain from not being able to take her right there on his desk. Trace sighed. “I don’t, and yet I do. Helluva problem you’re giving me. Like a pain in the ass that just doesn’t quit.”
    â€œI experience likewise emotions around you,” Ava said.
    â€œYeah, well.” He laced his fingers behind his head, grinning. She was such an open book. “Now what?”
    She caught him checking out the delicate derriere she’d parked on his desk, and frowned. “Now we move on to the next step. You aren’t the only ingredient necessary for our success.”
    â€œLook, sweetheart.” Trace hated to burst her illusions but there was no helping it. “There’s not going to be a rodeo here. Miss Judy has no team. I’m not going to train you. Whatever reason she really brought you here isn’t going to happen.”
    â€œSo I should just leave? Desert Judy?”
    He shrugged. “She brought you here under false pretenses.”
    She considered that. “And your answer is definitely no about training me.”
    â€œLook. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I don’t know the first thing about training women.”
    â€œSo don’t think of me as a woman. Train me like you would a man.”
    His gaze skimmed her curves. “Impossible.”
    â€œI do believe you’re afraid of the sexual attraction between us.”
    Trace stared at the goddess perched on his desk, his groin tightening, his scalp prickling with a thousand sparks of something. Desire. Lust. Something he couldn’t control. “Lady, look. I’ve faced a lot of things in my life, things you can’t possibly understand, things that would scare the pants off most men. I definitely am not afraid of anything you may or may not be offering.”
    â€œOkay.” She slid off his desk, sashayed to the door. “Just wanted to give you one last chance to say yes.”
    She turned to leave. His gaze, of course, went straight to those well-packed jeans. She looked back, catching him looking, just like she’d known he would be. Trace didn’t bother to act like he hadn’t been staring, and Ava disappeared down the hall.
    He slumped in his chair, mopped his face with a bandanna. She was right about one thing: The sexual attraction was fogging his brain. He wanted to say yes. God, how he wanted to say yes, to anything she wanted from him.
    She was desire in blue jeans—and turning it down was hard as hell.
    * * *
    Ivy Peters’ Honky-tonk and Dive Bar on the outskirts of town loomed near the road, close enough to be seen by cars that passed by, but set far enough back