Christmas with the Mustang Man

Christmas with the Mustang Man
Stella Bagwell

She'd come for the mustangs, Dallas Donovan told herself. Just a quick visit to Boone Barnett's Nevada ranch.Then her truck's engine seized and she stayed the night in the rugged, off-the-charts sexy Boone's home. Had pizza with his daughter, waited for the mechanic–and woke up to a snowfall keeping her in the reclusive rancher's grasp for another few days.Boone didn't believe in Christmas or miracles or a woman who understood his love for this wild untamed land. Yet now Dallas brought decorations and laughter and joy to his home. But what would happen when the snow melted and Christmas was over…?

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you again.”

She resisted the urge to swallow. “What makes you think I’m worried?”

The cynical slant of his lips belied the faint gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Probably the way you’re sidling up to me like I’m a hungry coyote.”

“Nothing wrong with a coyote,” she quipped. “At least he mates for life.”

His nostrils flared. “Like I said before, I don’t plan on kissing you again.”

For some reason, his cocky promise raked over every womanly particle inside of Dallas and before she realized what she was doing, she’d moved close enough to stick her face right in front of his. “I think you’re the one who’s worried, Boone.”

She watched his gaze drop to her lips, and anticipation shivered right through her.

“Me?” he asked softly. “What do I have to be worried about?”

“That you kissed me—and you liked it.”

Dear Reader,

Christmas is coming! The mere words make me want to dig out the decorations, bake all sorts of gooey, decadent desserts and race to the mall to shop, shop, shop! But mostly, Christmas turns my thoughts to family, the warm gatherings we’ve had through the years and the love we’ve always given to one another.

My heroine, Dallas Donovan, has never been away from her family during the holidays and when she unexpectedly finds herself a thousand miles from home, she can’t bear to miss all the fun of gift giving and celebrations. But she also understands that Christmas is more than parties, it’s a time of hope and dreams and sharing.

On the other hand, my hero, Boone Barnett, has forgotten how to celebrate anything. For the past years, he and his young daughter have gone through one lonely Christmas after another and Dallas soon sees that the two of them need her to fill their lives with cheer and love.

I want to personally thank all of you for continuing to read my Men of the West stories and I hope you enjoy this trip that Dallas takes to rugged Nevada, where she teaches a rancher all about sharing his heart.

Merry Christmas and God bless you all!

Stella Bagwell

Christmas with the Mustang Man

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

STELLA BAGWELL

has written more than seventy novels for Harlequin and Silhouette Books. She credits her loyal readers and hopes her stories have brightened their lives in some small way.

A cowgirl through and through, she loves to watch old Westerns, and has recently learned how to rope a steer. Her days begin and end helping her husband care for a beloved herd of horses on their little ranch located on the south Texas coast. When she’s not ropin’ and ridin’, you’ll find her at her desk, creating her next tale of love.

The couple have a son, who is a high school math teacher and athletic coach. Stella loves to hear from readers and invites them to contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

To my late mother, Lucille, who always

made Christmas a special time for her family.

When gifts were spare, her love was rich.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

“What the hell?”

Boone Barnett’s muttered question was lost in the cold wind as he watched a truck pulling a horse van leave a wake of dust as it barreled its way across the desert basin. The woman from New Mexico, he decided. The rig was too fancy to belong to anyone around here. But she was supposed to have been here shortly after lunch. Not five minutes from sundown!

Damn it, he was chilled to the bone, exhausted and hungry. He was hardly in the mood to put up with a woman who’d not had the forethought or good manners to show up at a decent hour. If she expected to look at the horses now, she was in for a surprise, Boone thought. His horses weren’t pampered pets housed in luxurious stalls with overhead lights. They existed outside, as they had for hundreds of years on this Nevada range.

Dropping the feed sack near the barn door, he called to a barking black-and-white shepherd before starting the long walk to the front of the house. Frigid north wind had been gusting all day and since he’d been outdoors for most of it, his face burned from exposure and his feet weren’t in much better shape. While he waited for the truck to pull to a stop, he stomped his boots and prayed for a little feeling to return to his toes.

Next to his leg, the dog whined and Boone’s gloved hand patted the animal’s head. “You don’t need to worry about the lady, Queenie. She’s only a visitor.”

Pricking its ears, the shepherd followed Boone forward, while a few feet away, the driver’s door opened on the truck and a tall, shapely woman stepped to the ground. She was dressed in blue jeans and boots and a bright red sweater, and as she moved toward him, she quickly shoved her arms into a denim ranch jacket.

“Hello,” she called out loud enough to be heard above the wind.