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reached for his hat and plunked it on his head. “Who said anything about sex?”
    She groaned, not the ecstasy kind she’d made only moments ago, but a throaty, frustrated groan. “You just did, damn it, with your talk of pumping your twelve gauge.”
    “Well, now I’m sorry your mind’s drifting to the gutter, but I appreciate the compliment.” Tipping his hat, he gave her a two finger salute.
    “Compliment?” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?
    Resting the sole of his boot on the edge of the car, he draped his arms on the roof and leaned in again. “I think I do all right in the anatomy department, and you didn’t seem to have any complaints back in Denver, but twelve inches is a bit of a stretch.”
    That combusting look in her eyes returned as she held his gaze for a fraction, then she skidded it down his torso and zeroed in on his erection. “So you weren’t talking about...”
    “Not unless you want to. Otherwise I was referring to my twelve gauge pump shotgun,” he said with another shrug, while wanting to beat his chest like a gorilla because it appeared she’d actually thought he was hung like a frickin’ bull.
    Shaking her head, she mumbled, “Shotgun.” Then she turned the key in the ignition. She moved her eyes to his erection again, then released a deep breath. “So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “I guess you will.”
    Holding his gaze, she opened her mouth, then quickly pressed her lips together. Seconds passed and she finally said, “I guess should go.”
    “I guess you should.” But he couldn’t just let her go, not after finally finding her again, or after making her come apart in the parking lot. She was as hot as a branding iron and still held an attraction for him, even after six months. Only now he had to date her on television, which sucked worse than Red’s home brewed moonshine. He didn’t like having to compete with a couple of other guys, and didn’t buy her excuse of doing the show for money. That dress she wore had to have cost several hundred dollars. Not that he knew much about women’s fashion, but he’d been with enough women to know a designer brand when he saw one.
    Leaning in, arms draped over the roof because he was afraid he’d haul her into his arms again and screw everything up, he stopped an inch from her parted lips. “Lookin’ forward to our date,” he murmured, then veered away from her tempting lips and kissed her temple.
    When he drew back, he caught the heat and confusion warring in her eyes, but she quickly averted her gaze and pressed her foot to the brake. With her gaze on anything but him, he pushed away, closed her car door, then rapped the roof. He watched her tear out of the parking lot, tires squealing, and shook his head as he walked toward his truck.
    He had some planning to do for tomorrow. Unfortunately, there would be cameras involved, but he’d find a way to make sure he had some quality alone time with Valentina. And when he was done, a twelve gauge pump shotgun would have a whole new meaning.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    This is so not going well. Valentina cringed and stared at the passing terrain from the open window of Colt’s Ford F-150. A little over an hour into her first date with Colt and she’d already managed to not only botch things up, but make a foo l of herself in the process—on camera no less.
    Sure, everything had started as planned. Danny had shown at her apartment with a two person camera crew to film the initial beginning of her and Colt’s date. Instead of acting the part of the bubbly bachelorette, she’d allowed her physical attraction for Colt to scare her into silence. Unable to tear her eyes off his lean, rugged body when he’d filled her doorframe, she’d suddenly been struck dumb, and pretty much mute. She’d stumbled over incomplete sentences, while forcing a big smile that still left her cheeks hurting, then managed to trip on the uneven sidewalk as