Bravo, Tango, Cowboy

“As long as you’re not one of them,” Cutter said, leaning over to kiss his wife on the back of the neck.

“Not a chance. I’ve got my cowboy.”

“Good. Hold that thought. Not that I’m not grateful to have Hawk join up with me.”

“Do you need a pilot?” Alonsa asked.

“I need another good man. Hawk Taylor’s the best and the reason I, and more than a few others, are back on U.S. soil and breathing instead of being feasted on by worms on the other side of the world.”

Linney slipped her arm around her husband’s waist. “You never told me Hawk saved your life.”

“You never asked. Now, if I’m not mistaken, the band is playing our song. Will you excuse us, Alonsa, while I dance with my gorgeous wife?”

“Absolutely.”

Alonsa watched the two of them walk away, so in love that they glowed brighter than the tiny white lights that twinkled above them. For now, they had it all. Alonsa had been there once. It seemed eons ago.

IT WAS A HELL OF A post-wedding celebration. A great band, free-flowing alcohol, beautiful women and all out in the wide-open spaces of the Double M Ranch. But the best part of it all was that Hawk was not the sucker who’d just bought in to the fantasy of marital bliss.

Been there, done that, had the scars and the holes in his bank account to prove it. Give him a reconnaissance mission over a heavily armed enemy anytime. At least then you knew they’d be gunning for you. Not that the divorce hadn’t been mainly his fault. He’d only been half there and only half the time. The only people he’d ever truly committed to was his team of rowdy frogmen.

“Care to dance?”

The woman asking and looking up at him with a pair of gorgeous blue eyes was a hottie who’d been semi-stalking him all night. He’d met her at the champagne fountain earlier. She was a secretary to one of the local congressmen—or was she his daughter? Anyway there was a correlation.

The band broke into a new number, but this time instead of a nice boot-scooting beat, the tune had a Latin rhythm. “I’d love to dance with you, but I’m afraid that’s not in my repertoire,” he said. “But look me up for a two-step, and I’m all yours.”

“Promise?”

“On a stack of James Bond novels.”

Another guy came along and tugged her onto the floor with a few other brave couples. They weren’t bad. One couple were obvious graduates of a course in ballroom dancing, probably recently. The man’s mouth moved as he counted the tango beats. The woman was as stiff as MRE rations.

A debonair, slightly past middle-age man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair stepped onto the dance floor. Accompanying him was the gorgeous dark-haired woman Hawk had spotted earlier standing with Linney.

The sapphire-blue dress she was wearing curved about her like silken skin, not so tight she looked trampy, but fitted enough that there was no denying she had a dynamite body. A tempting amount of cleavage showed. Not nearly enough, in Hawk’s opinion.

The hemline cleared her thighs, but there was plenty of bare leg left to appreciate. Great calves, superb ankles and a pair of silver stiletto heels that did their best to show off the sexy features.

None of that compared to how she looked when she started to dance. Hawk had been near explosions that weren’t half as hot.

Linney stepped up beside him and linked her arm with his. “Need a napkin to wipe that drool from your lips, cowboy?”

“I might. Who’s the temptress?”

“My interior decorator.”

“Yeah, well, I’m feeling in need of a major overhaul. Is that her husband she’s dancing with?”

“No. She’s a widow with a young son.”

She looked as if she were about to say more, but didn’t.

“So is the dude she’s dancing with her lover?”

“He’s her boss. Esteban of Esteban’s Western Interiors.”

“And does the temptress have a name?”

“Alonsa Salatoya, but she’s had a really rough life the last few years, Hawk. I don’t want to see her hurt again, so let’s just say she’s off-limits to you.”

“You don’t really believe all those wild heartbreaker tales Cutter and Marcus spread about me, do you?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“Strictly jealousy on their part,” he teased.

“What about the women swooning in your wake all night?”

“It’s the boots. Women love ’em.”

“Every guy in Texas has boots.”

“Must be my cologne, then.”

“Collect all the hearts you want, Hawk. Just not Alonsa’s. Not that I actually think you could. As far as I know she hasn’t had a date since her husband died.”

“So she’s a recent widow?”

“It’s been two years.”

The music stopped and Esteban dipped his partner so low that the two were practically parallel to the floor. Her hem inched upward. Hawk felt a tightening in his groin. Staying clear of Alonsa was probably a warning he should heed, but not for the reasons Linney had stated. He just wasn’t up to dealing with the emotional entanglements of dating a woman who’d been grieving for two years, especially a woman with a kid.

When the dancing duo righted themselves, they headed for the edge of the dance floor. Linney waved them over. “You two were magnificent,” she raved. “It was like having a filming of Dancing with the Stars right here at the Double M.”

“Alonsa makes any man look good on the dance floor,” Esteban said.

She gave a mock bow. “A woman is only as good as her partner.”

That might be true about some things, but Hawk figured Alonsa would look good dancing with a battery-operated frog. Her gaze met Hawk’s for the briefest of seconds and he was mesmerized by their dark mystic depths.

The band hit up a version of “Crazy.”

“I love this song,” Linney said, looking up at Esteban as she started to sway.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked.

“I’d love to.”