Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (36 page)

She rolled sideways and off him as
he fully released them from the parachute's silky folds.

"Aren’t you supposed to take
wind shifts into consideration when doing a jump?" he asked. He sat up and
dusted off his pants. His legs were encased in snug-fitting denims as faded as
his shirt and he had well worn cowboy boots on his feet. He stood over her as
he pulled off his gloves and stuffed them in a back pocket. Jacie measured his
height against hers. Six three, maybe four to her five feet seven inches.

"Of course I take the wind
into consideration." She told herself to focus, but it became impossible
when his gaping shirt offered tantalizing glimpses of a man in superb physical
shape. She tried to ignore the attraction nipping at her but for the moment
gave it up as a losing battle.

His look turned questioning as he
proceeded to snap his shirt. "Then you changed your target?" he asked
with a hint of impatience.

"Guilty." She lifted her
shoulders, thinking he looked like a man who had no time for nonsense.
"Seemed like a good idea at the time." She didn’t tell him he’d
presented a challenge, standing off by himself like that, as if he wasn’t
impressed with her skydiving into the resort.

He did look pretty unimpressed. In
fact, she guessed that right about now he was wondering who the fool was that
had hired her to skydive into Timber Falls. Natural curiosity prompted her to
ask, "Are you a guest at the ranch?"

"No." He looked past her
toward the small crowd who had gathered for the jump. "Here come the
others." With concern he quickly glanced up and down her scarlet jumpsuit.
"You landed pretty hard, are you okay?"

Jacie saw him zero in on the knee
support and then felt his sharp glance move up to her neck.

"You’ve hurt yourself,"
he added, reaching out a hand toward her.

She didn’t wait to see if he would
actually touch her neck but jerked her head back. "I'm fine," she
said briskly. "The mark on my neck is old." She reached over to pick
up a black cowboy hat on the ground. The shaped brim felt smooth under her
fingertips. "Yours?"

"Yeah." He took it and
held out his other hand to her. She let him pull her up and they stared at each
other, each taking the other’s measure. Jacie admitted she liked what she saw.

She stepped back. He put his hat
on, tipping the brim forward the slightest bit, virtually hiding his eyes from
her.

"Sloan." He shook her
hand. "Welcome to the Catskills and Timber Falls."

"Thanks. Jacie Turner."
She felt a measure of disgust when her voice came out breathless. She pulled at
her sleeves and adjusted them. Men didn’t usually make her nervous.

"Yeah, I know," he said.

That made her pause in buttoning
her sleeve. "And do I know you?"

"Nope. My brother hired
you." He began to roll her chute, his movements swift and efficient.
"Come on, we might as well see if that jump will satisfy the experts."

Jacie’s leg muscles tensed. Back
to business. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, knowing the jump hadn’t been one
of her better ones. "Your brother is James Wright? He was my contact for
this job. Who are the experts?" she asked curiously. "Sounds like
you’re not lumping yourself in that category."

"James is my brother. He and
his advertising agency are the experts." He threw her a serious look from
under dark brows. "I didn’t order a skydiving act. I think word of mouth
is enough to put this place on the map."

She opened her eyes wide.
"Whoa, okay, I get the picture that this wasn’t your idea." She
unclipped her harness and released the snap on her tight-fitting cap. "But
since your brother owns Timber Falls, he’s the one I answer to."

Sloan’s blue eyes were intense as
they settled on her, yet a slight hint of amusement lurked there. "Sorry
to disappoint you, but we both own Timber Falls."

"Oh." A course of goose
bumps raced along her arms under the jumpsuit. She gave him a full smile. That
meant he’d be here her entire stay. There was something about him that rattled
her just a bit. "Then you’re my employer too. You know I'm staying here
the month of August?"

"I know."

Two words with a wealth of
meaning. He knew and was happy she wondered, or he knew and didn't like it?
From everything he’d not said, it might be the latter. He watched the slowly
dispersing crowd with a slight frown, as if he wished himself elsewhere. Jacie
figured he probably had better things to do than pick her up and make sure she
was okay. Well, that was okay with her. She was here to do a job, not make
friends with a guy who looked like he’d walked out of an old western. Sexy as
hell, but an old western nevertheless.

Sighing, Jacie had to wonder why
her hands shook as she slid the cap from her head.

Read Heartstealer by Grace
Brannigan on Kindle and Smashwords

Wishing on a Rodeo Moon Excerpt

Someday, that bull would kill
someone. Tye Jenkins just knew it. She straddled the top rail of the bull chute
as old Hit Man moved restlessly from side to side.

Tye let her gaze roam the rodeo
yard. Her heart jumped like a young colt on a brisk morning as she stared,
transfixed, at a dark-haired man. Jake Miller. He stood close by, a cocky look
of assurance on his lean face. He was a head taller than most of the men around
him, a stranger in business clothes among mud-spattered cowboys. His suit
looked expensive, not the most common attire down by the pens. She had never
before seen him dressed like that, yet he carried it off with nonchalance and
elegance. He stood, feet planted on ground churned up by countless boots and
three days of rain, his dark head bare to the falling mist. Tye didn’t try to
stop the smile spreading across her face. Only Jake could pull off a suit at a
rodeo in the drizzling rain.

She hadn’t seen or heard from Jake
in ten years, not since that terrible night she’d left. He’d showed up now, the
night she planned to remember for the rest of her life -- the night she’d make
the rodeo finals. With the bittersweet knowledge of the past firmly in her
mind, Tye sensed it was fitting Jake should be here to see her triumph.

Even knowing she was short on time
before her ride, she continued to stare at Jake. Why was he here? What was that
expression in his face -- a mixture of pain and want? Tye wiped the mist from
her eyes, knowing she was wrong. She drew a deep breath.

He had changed, matured, yet
something in his eyes remained the same. How long had she loved that strong
face with its wide cheekbones, no-nonsense jaw touched by the faintest shadow
of beard and deep-set eyes of the lightest blue? Her seventeenth summer she had
loved him with a young woman’s vibrancy. They’d spent endless time together,
planning, talking, dreaming. Back then, Tye had thought Jake could do no wrong.

She drew a deep breath and looked
around. Why was he here? It wasn’t to see her! He was already drawing
attention: she could see some of the girls nudging each other. Her throat dry,
Tye drew a deep breath and then pressed her lips together. There were a lot of
handsome faces like Jake’s, but he had a presence. He always had. Jake was
special, that’s why she had loved him so much, until she had walked away.

"Tye Jenkins!"

Hearing her call, Tye stood up
against the metal bars, gripping the top rail tightly. As she did so the bull
in the chute hopped sideways, rattling the metal gates.

Adrenaline pumping, Tye jerked her
gloves on, her gaze sweeping the yard, oblivious to everything until her glance
lit once more on Jake. He was still there. Seeing him broke her concentration,
brought in a flood of memory. Live, intense heat struck Tye and she closed her
eyes tightly for a brief moment in exasperation. She had gotten over him.
Anyone with a lick of sense knew ten years was a long time to pine over any man.

Deliberately, she looked away.
Rubbing rosin on her gloves and rope, Tye centered her attention one hundred
percent on what she knew of the bull, Hit Man. True to form, he was bouncing in
the chute like a young kid throwing a temper tantrum. Hit Man shot her a glance
now and then, probably to see if his head games were rattling her. He was one
of the oldest bulls on the circuit, but anyone in rodeo knew he’d give you the
ride of your life.

Tye's heart pounded wildly in her
chest and up into her throat as she threw her leg over the chute and climbed
down on the bulky-muscled bull. Quickly, she gripped the flat, braided rope as
the bull lunged from side to side. Dry-mouthed, Tye wrapped her hand while the
bull bellowed. He turned his head and seemed to glare at her with one eye, then
with a quick twist tried to horn her.

"Watch your legs there,
Tye!" someone shouted, but she had already pulled them up. Tye focused on
keeping her feet from being pinned between the animal's sides and the metal
bars. Steadying hands of the cowboys at her back helped her stay upright as the
bull continued to ram the sides of the chute.

Her fingers tightened on the rope
and she gave the signal to open the gate. With vivid clarity Tye saw the gate
swing open, felt the rush of air from her lungs. Like a race car in its first
heat, a ton of Brahma bull exploded into the rodeo arena; twisting and
spinning. His cloven hooves sank into the mix of mud and manure. He knew his
job and damn! he did it well.

The ornery bull did his best to defy
the laws of gravity. He lunged forward, coiled to the right, came down, whipped
to the left and dove again. Tye had watched this bull and knew what to expect,
but every bone in her body was being jolted to hell and back. She was
determined to ride it out and do it in style. As the bull spun, she spurred
him, her concentration intense.

The clock in her head ticked off.
Tye held fast like a winter's burr on a blanket. Two. Three. . .this was the
longest six-second ride of her life. Five. Triumph began to burgeon in her
chest. She had him. Hit Man wasn't getting away.

As the bull reared his head up,
they hung suspended in the air for a moment. Then, with surely no more than a
quarter of a second left, Tye felt him twisting, going over, taking her with
him.

All time stopped, silence reigned,
the cheering crowd disappeared. There was only she and Hit Man. It seemed to
Tye, in that split second of realization that the bull had won. She tried to
throw herself clear, but she couldn't get her hand free.

They slammed into bone-chilling
mud. Tye felt her head snap sideways, saw the dull grey sky overhead. Clods of
dirt and mud slapped her. She smelled manure, then sweat and heat rolling off
the animal, which lay atop her. When she tried, she couldn't move, so she lay
still, her legs pinned under the dead weight. If looks could be believed, the
bull had dropped dead…

Read Wishing on a Rodeo Moon by
Grace Brannigan on Kindle and Smashwords

http://www.GraceBrannigan.com