Unbridled Passion by Sorcha MacMurrough

Unbridled Passion
Sorcha MacMurrough

This is a comic short love story from the popular Irish novelist.
Author's note: This story is the result of one long weekend at an annual romance writer's convention in Texas. I might be prone to a little exaggeration, but not much, when it comes to describing the wonderful hero and heroine.

Jerri opened the door of her aunt's house. What she saw in the doorway made her mouth gape even wider than the door.
He was tall, blond, and lean, like something carved out of granite. Dressed from head to toe in solid black, from the heels of his hand-tooled boots to the brim of his Stetson, he was everything her Northern imagination had ever dreamt of in a cowboy. His blue eyes sparkled like the waters of Galveston Harbor, and his smile was so white it was like he had just stepped out of the dentist's chair, or an ad for Poligrip.
She swallowed hard and managed to speak past the lump in her throat.
"Yes, can I help you?"
"Dung."
Her mouth gaped yet again. "I beg your pardon?"
"Dung. Manure. For your Aunt Helen's roses. I heard she had been took sick, and I thought the least I could do was look after the garden while she's in the hospital. How is she?"
Jerri tried to tear her eyes away from the handsome stranger, but she felt completely mesmerized by his appearance. He was certainly respectful enough, but as he towered over her, filling the doorway with his well-muscled frame, she sensed danger.
"She's fine, thanks for asking," she said automatically. "But just who on earth are you?"
"I'm Bob Adams. I own the stables down the road a piece. It's good quality manure, best in the County."
She looked past his linebacker's shoulders to the huge black Dodge pickup, and saw steam rising from the flatbed. From behind the driver's seat came a pink snout, and she heard a loud squeal.
"That there's Bubba. He jes wants to say hello."
"Hello Bob and Bubba," she with a laugh.
"Well, now that we've got all the introductions out of the way, I'll just drive around the back and get started."
She started to stammer, "R-r-really, it's very kind to bring over your manure and want to help out, but I'm sure that my aunt..."
"Won't be able to look after her plants for herself for a while. And if you'll pardon my saying, ma'am, you don't look like you know one end of a shovel from the other."
"You're right there," she said with a sigh. "I never did pay as much attention as I should have when Helen used to go over all the different varieties of roses."
"Well, come on out and tell me how she's doin', and I'll tell you what you need to do about the roses for this time of year. I take it you're fixin' to be here for a while?"
She nodded and sighed. "As long as she needs me, though what I'm supposed to do about my bookstore back home and my writing I have no idea."
"So you're a writer like Helen, are you? I read her last one. Real romantic it was. Just like Tarzan."
"I don't write historicals, I write contemporaries. Zipper rippers, I call them."
She had hoped to shock him, but all he did was give her one of his dazzling white smiles and a deep laugh.
"Yes, sirree, I sure do like a lady who wastes no time and goes straight for what she wants. Saves a whole lotta mixed signals and hurt feelings."
Jerri nodded and blushed, surprised he had picked up on the whole premise of her novels so easily. There was obviously a lot more to this cowboy than the considerable feast that met the eye looking at his gorgeous physique.
She followed him out onto the porch, and began to walk around to the side of the house.
Bob drove up shortly after, and stepped into a pair of old, well-worn overalls. Even in the baggy faded denims, he was a sight which set her heart aflutter.
But the last thing she needed was a man to mess up her already demanding life. In her experience, men had always been more trouble than they were worth, moody, possessive, and totally unsupportive when it came to her goals and aspirations. She would have to stop staring, be polite, get the manure, and get rid of him so she could go back to all her chores.
Bob walked up through the neat rows of trellises and began to look at the roses with an expert eye.
"Anyway, we're right glad to have you, even if it is only for a short spell. The townsfolk here are friendly enough, once you get to know them. That there Karen Wilson is terrific in a hot bed, and Lauren Petersen is great up against a wall."
Jerri gasped in shock. "I'm not interested in your sexual exploits!"
She made to move away, when his hand reached out like lightning to grasp her arm. "They ain't women, they're the names of the breeds of roses."
Jerri colored even more furiously at her own silly mistake, and the strange sensations that were running up and down her arm.
'Now that there James Ross looks like its got greenfly." He stepped over it to examine it more closely. "Nope, just a bit of spinach is all."
He went back to the truck, flipped open the back, and began to unload forkfuls of dung.
"Er, if you'll excuse me..." Jerri muttered, crinkling her nose. "But come up to the house for a cold drink whenever you're ready."
"I will, thanks. See you shortly."
Jerri went back to the house as fast as her quaking legs could carry her, and immediately switched on her laptop. What a man! She had tried to ignore him, but it was like trying to block out the sunlight on a radiant summer's day.
With peeks in between the lace curtains, she wrote down the details of every inch of him.   Even the ones she couldn't see under the overalls.
But she had always had a vivid imagination, and she could not help notice when he had been standing in the doorway that the pair of black jeans he was wearing were practically painted on.
Once she had finished her description of a strapping blond hero for her latest novel, she sat and stared at him as he worked. As the sun got hotter, Bob took down the top of the coveralls, and soon he was unbuttoning his shirt.
Though she was inside with the air conditioning on full blast, she might as well have been in a sauna, so hot and bothered did this stunning cowboy get her.
When the whole shirt finally came off, Jerri had to sit down, and almost reached for her aunt's nitroglycerin for her heart condition. My, but he was one hell of a man, lean and hard from his broad shoulders to his narrow hips.
Suddenly Bob looked up, and Jerri was certain that he saw her staring at him. She managed a weak wave. He gave another stunning smile and carried on spreading manure.
Jerri then realized with a sinking feeling that she looked like something the cat had dragged in. She was dressed in an old tee shirt and a pair of cut-offs with several holes in all of the wrong places. Her short dark hair was standing up on end, and she hadn't got on so much as a drop of powder or lipstick.
She charged upstairs to the guestroom, and yanked out one of the good dresses she had brought with her from Boston. It was long and flowing, and though it was obviously too fancy to wear around the house, she hoped he wouldn't notice. Then again, she hoped he would....
After she had changed, Jerri tried to get back to her computer to work, but she found her heart racing at the thought of him coming in for a cool drink. So she occupied herself readying a small snack of lemonade and some of her aunt's wonderful cookies.
A tap at the door a short while later set her heart racing anew. But she would be calm and collected. He was just a man, after all. But what a man...
"Howdy, Miz Jensen. Just finished the rosebeds. If it's not too much trouble, I'll come in and wash my hands, and take that cool drink you were so kind to offer."
He was standing there without his shirt, and his bronzed skin gleamed as though it had just been oiled. Around his neck he wore a small silver medal, St. George and the dragon, and she could barely keep her eye off his rippling pecs.
"Certainly, come on in. There's lemondade or beer," Jerri managed to say graciously.
"I know what you must think of us down here in the south, but really, it's too early in the day for beer. Lemonade will be fine."
When Bob had returned from the bathroom, Jerri led him out onto the porch for their drink. Even though it was hot outside, somehow he was so larger than life, she thought it would be too claustrophobic to sit with him in her aunt's small parlor, even though he had by now put his shirt back on.
"So, how is Miz Jensen doing?" he asked sitting adjacent to her on the porch while she poured.
"She had a bit of a scare, but it wasn't a real heart attack. They're just keeping her in for observation."
"You need to have her watch herself more careful-like. Those sorts of things are no joke. And they can run in the family," he said, fixing her with his piercing blue gaze. Before she even realized with he was doing, he was taking her pulse. After a couple of tries, she finally managed to pull her arm away.
"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. We' re both fine."
"Well, in that case, if you're so fine, Miz Jensen the younger, why not come out to dinner with me tonight?"
She stared at him, wondering if he were joking, wondering how he had the nerve.
"No thank you," she said, her tone curt.
"It's no big deal. You don't need to look at me like I pulled up your poodle skirt at the local swing dance or something. You got to eat. This is a big old house for you to be in on your own, so come out with me tonight."
She shook her head. "No, really, it's fine, I have a lot of work to do and-"
"You know what they say about all work and no play."
"But I don't even know you..."
He gave her a long, assessing look. "And you're never gonna git to know me if you sit in this house all by yourself."
She shrugged. She supposed he had a point. If she was going to stuck down in Florida at her aunt's for a while, the very least she ought to do was make friends with the people who obviously cared about Helen.
"All right, but I can't stay out too late."
"That's all right. I promise I'll have you in bed by eleven," he said with a wink.
Jerri was so startled she couldn't find the words. He was either the biggest flirt in Florida, or the bluntest man on earth. But blunt wasn't so bad-it was better than feeding a girl a line of bull.
"I'll pick you up at seven, and don't worry, I'll leave Bubba the piglet at home."
He put on his Stetson, and walked off the porch with an easy grace which left her gasping for air.   He moved like a Greek god, or a male stripper, exuding testosterone from every pore. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

Jerri spent all day asking herself that question over and over again, and wondering what she was going to wear.   On the one hand, she wanted to impress him just a little; on the other hand, she didn't want to look like the town wench.
She had several good dresses with her just in case she was able to head to Houston for the annual romance writers' convention, which she had been hoping to attend with Helen before her aunt had become ill. It wasn't for a couple of weeks yet, but there was no telling how soon her aunt would be out of the hospital.
Finally, exasperated, with seven o'clock fast approaching, Jerri grabbed the first dress on top of the small mountain of clothes she had hurled on the bed, and yanked it over her head. Just as she looked in the mirror, the car horn sounded below.
"Oh, lord." She had chosen her slinky red cocktail dress, which showed more bare leg and cleavage than a Times Square resident.
But it was too late. She couldn't keep Bob waiting, and she certainly couldn't run downstairs dressed only in a robe. That would be worse than the dress, if such a thing were possible.
Jerri scooped up her black high heels and her bag, and raced down the stairs and out the door before she had time to think better of her decision.
As soon as he saw her through the window of the cab of the truck, he whistled. "Man, oh man, am I a lucky fella tonight. That dress would stop traffic, girl. You ought to watch out, though. You'll be put on the front page of the newspaper for disturbing the peace in a getup like that."
"I'll go up and change," she said, moving to get down from the cab of the truck.
His warm hand ran up her bare arm, and held her firmly in place. "Don't you dare. But I guess I can't take you to Brother Rudy's Road-Kill Grill for dinner after all."
She let out a groan of dismay, but he flashed her another broad grin. "Just kidding. We're going to The Top of the Town."
She was impressed. It was the best restaurant in the little hamlet of Dogleg, situated in the penthouse of its only high-rise building.
Jerri tried to make polite conversation, but the peeps she managed to get of Bob from nder the street lights as they drove to the restaurant were making it hard for her to breathe.
She had almost hoped for his all-black cowboy outfit again, but in a navy blazer with cream-colored trousers and a crisp white shirt and red silk tie, he looked as though he had just stepped off of the cover of GQ.
He kept up a stream of easy chat about the different places they passed, and did not seem to notice her embarrassment and nervousness.
As she listened to his deep voice, she felt more reassured. What was the harm in a simple dinner?
When they got to the restaurant, he handed his key over the valet and stepped out, and walked over to her side and opened her door. He held out his hand palm-upwards, and she was forced to take it and stepped out of the cab as gracefully as she could considering her short skirt was riding so high up her thigh as she slid down.
He held onto her hand as they walked toward the building, and while one voice in her head told her that everything was happening very quickly, too quickly, another more wicked one told her to enjoy it while it lasted.
This, after all, was the stuff of which romance novels were made. Love at first sight really did happen to some people-and who could tell, once she got to know him, perhaps he would really be her Mister Right?
Jerri chuckled at the thought. She must have been suffering from heat stroke to start thinking that way. He was just a nice guy with a load of spare dung who happened to like her aunt. She would go back to her life in Boston, and he would stay down on his ranch raising his horses, which he told her were hackney ponies.
"Do you come from a farming background?" she asked when he had finished describing his ranch to her.
"Not really. Dad does a bit of farming, but mainly he grows grapes for wine."
"Grapes? Where does he live, California?
"Nope. Tennessee. I've got a really good bottle of our best Chateau Caterpillar 2000 if you'd care to try it."
She crinkled her nose. "Er, no thanks. I'm not really much of a wine drinker. I guess you wouldn't be either. Aren't all southern men supposed to be Jack Daniels drinkers?"
"Yep, most of them, but not me. I've drunk so much of it in my day it tastes worse than suckin' on a charcoal briquette."
Jerri giggled. At least he had a great sense of humor.
After he had ordered T-bone steaks for two, he began telling of her of the people in the town, and regaling her with his many jokes. After the third 'old ladies on a park bench joke,' he suddenly declared, "I hear music."
She glanced around, straining to hear. "There's not a sound, and we're the only ones in this place."
"In that case then, you won't have any objection to dancing."
He then began to hum his favorite country and western songs in a deep rich baritone. She tried to remain seated, but he pulled her up into his arms and started to waltz her around the floor, and then began to two-step until she was breathless.
When the food arrived he escorted her back to the table, with one arm firmly around her waist. He gave her a broad grin.
She ventured to ask, "Are you having a good time?"
"Does a bear poo in the woods?"
She giggled again.
Jerri tried to eat the food Bob had ordered, but his nearness, his overwhelming personality, made it a struggle for her to even swallow.
How could this be happening to her? She was, after all, only a quiet, shy bookstore owner. She had never thought herself the type to be swept off her feet, but here she was, unable to even think straight when Bob looked at her, touched her....
Just as they were finishing their meal, the outer door of the restaurant was flung open and amid a cloud of perfume and hairspray a tiny dark-haired woman stalked in.
Her narrow gaze immediately snapped to Jerri and Bob in the corner of the room. She strode over on her six-inch heels, every curve of her body revealed by the leopard-spotted leotard she wore.
"An' jes who in hell is this here floozy you've picked up now? Ain't you done hanging around with all the trailer trash in this town yet?"
Jerri opened her mouth to protest at the brunette's remarks, but Bob's response said it all for both of them.
"Jerri, this here is Betty Moanin. She's been chased after me like a headless chicken for the past few months. She's just jealous that you're here with me and she isn't. Don't believe a word of her lies."
Betty had come so close that her drool ran down the front of Bob's shirt. He took a napkin and wiped himself down.
"You ain't wanted here, Betty. So off you git, quick smart now."
Betty hissed, "I'm going now, but this won't be the last you'll hear of me."
"No, p'raps it ain't, but this is my last word to you. I ain't interested, no how, no where."
Betty stormed off, and Bob heaved a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Jerri. That wasn't a nice thing for you to have to put up with."
Jerri shrugged. "It's none of my business who you consort with," she said, reaching for her handbag.
"Now you just hold on a danged minute," Bob said, taking the hand nearest her as she moved to leave. "She had no call to say what she did, and you have no reason to be mad. I know you don't know me very well yet, and you can't be blamed for wondering if what she said was true. I'll be completely honest. I ain't no virgin, but I ain't no pre-vert neither."
Jerri laughed in spite of herself. She could see he had deliberately mispronounced the word to make her laugh, and the tension drained away from her.
"You don't have to explain anything to me. But I really do have to freshen up."
She reached under the table for her bag again, and suddenly she found him face to face with her under the table. Before either of them knew what was happening, they shared a quick and torrid kiss.
The waiter cleared his throat above them. Bob sat up so suddenly he banged his head on the table. He flicked the black satin table cloth down over his midriff and tried to look innocent by putting his hands on the table and staring up at the ceiling. "Mmm mmm, I sure am looking' forward to dessert."
Jerri blushed and went off to repair her lipstick.
After a sumptuous tiramisu and some coffee, he reminded her, "Well, I did promise I would get you home early."
She was reluctant to leave, but at the same time she didn't want to appear too forward. After all, nothing could really come of it. It was obvious from his conversation the entire evening that he was witty, intelligent, and certainly not the country bumpkin he occasionally pretended to be.
But they came from such different worlds. He was steady, religious, at home in the south; she was from the godless north, and had always enjoyed living life at the speed of sound, and all the cultural aspects of life in a big city like Boston. No, it was silly, she told herself. They were just too different to ever have anything more than a great friendship when she came down to visit her aunt.
But as they stepped into the penthouse elevator, he took her in his arms and kissed her hard. The earth feel from beneath her feet, and the earth moved.
"Lobby," the elevator computer announced.
"Er, sorry, I um, lost my balance."
"Yes, I can see you're carrying a lot of weight in front that might cause you to fall forward into my arms," he said with an appreciative wink at her ample breasts.
Both burst out laughing, and he put his arm around her as he led her to the waiting car.
As they drove home, Bob told her all about his brothers and sisters, and his thrilling life as a water skier, before he had got the ranch.
"I had two trained seals at Cypress Gardens, Florida, and we were quite an act in our day. You should see me juggle. I don't know why I'm running on at the mouth like this you all this. And by the way, did I tell you the joke about the roast beef?"
"Er, no, but that's all right."
As she looked at him, the vision of a Viking helmet and fur cloak sprang to her mind. But no, what about Norman lord, .... A cowboy... Yes, a wild, unbridled cowboy....
Suddenly his hand was on her knee, and travelled up. Before she could stop him, he had whisked one of her garters off. It was black and red and very frilly.
"Just a souvenir. So I can recollect how darned sexy you looked all night. Not that I could forget it. Golly, I ain't gonna get a wink of sleep tonight. But then, if I was with you, Jerri, I still wouldn't get a wink of sleep, now would I?"
She looked at him sharply. "Darn it, Bob, do you always have to be so embarrassingly honest? Most guys never let one sincere word come out of their mouths. You seem to say out loud everything that comes into your head!"
Bob shrugged. "I don't know what's got into me. I'm not normally like this. Maybe your aunt's palpitations are contagious."
Jerri smiled. "I was beginning to think the same thing myself."
They drove back to the house in silence, and after a long lingering kiss which she broke off in a flurry, she said goodnight.
"I'll come by with some more manure tomorrow, if I may."
"Sure, any time!" she heard herself offering, then hurried in the door before he took her invitation as something more than a friendly welcome between neighbors.

The following day her aunt came out of the hospital, and for the next couple of days Jerri worked to make sure Helen was comfortable and had everything she needed.
Bob came by at least three times a day to help around the house, and to make sure that Aunt Helen was never alone. He didn't try to press his attentions too much on Jerri because he could see she was busy, but whenever he came he brought something for each lady, flowers, chocolates, a jar of homemade jam.
Jerri didn't know what to think. It was all so unexpected. She kept waiting to wake up and find out that meeting someone as great as Bob had all been a dream.

At the end of ten days, when she was going about the house on her own, Helen said to her niece, "Jerri, you really ought to go to the Romantic Tryst Convention. I know I can't go, but it would be a great opportunity for you. You should take Bob as well. He would do great as a cover model in the contest, and have the time of his life. The whole trip is paid for. All you have to do is say yes."
"Aunt Helen, I can't believe you would suggest that I go on vacation with a perfect stranger."
"Dang, from where I'm sitting, in that black cowboy outfit he wears, Bob sure is perfect, but he's no stranger. He's been here every day ever since you arrived, paid lots of attention to you, snf has gone out of his way for you two to get to know each other. Surely you must see he's a decent sort of guy."
"Yeah, so decent he is going to go on vacation with me. What will that look like if I ask him?"
Her aunt rolled her eyes. "Who cares what it looks like, Jerri? Go off and have fun."
"You know neither of us was brought up that way."
"All the more reason, then, to take the chance to get to know each other, to see if you are really as perfect for each other as I think you are, if only you would get over that big city hang-up of yours. There are other places in the world besides Boston. And nothing will happen if you don't want it to. You know that. I wouldn't be suggesting it if I thought there was any danger to you, dear. He's terrific for you. I think the two of you could make a go of it."
"Really, Aunt Helen, can you imagine me living down here? Swinging down the road in the big ol' pickup to the local bull ridin' competition with Bubba in the back?"
'Sure, why not? If you love him, you'll do anything, even go to the bull riding."
"There must be limits somewhere!"
"I don't know. Me and your Uncle Chuck never found any limits, and we were wed for over forty years, God rest him. Say, that gives me an idea for my new novel. The Tarzan room in that there hotel in Houston... Just wait until you see it! Hot damn, that was fun."
Jerri shook her head, and tried to change the subject, hoping that her aunt would forget all about the Romantic Tryst Convention.

But later that day, Helen asked Bob straight out to accompany Jerri to Houston. To her shock and relief, he agreed to go without a second's hesitation. J
erri did everything she could to try to persuade them both it was a bad idea, but she was outnumbered.
Bob put one arm around her and hugged her shoulders for a brief moment. "Relax. We will have a great time. No strings, I promise. And no Bubba neither."
Jerri tried to make the best of it, reasoning that it would be nice to have someone to travel with, but all the while she wondered if she was doing the right thing. The more time she spent with Bob, the more she realized that she loved being with him, loved the way he made her feel special.... As far as she could tell, Bob liked her as much as she liked him. It just seemed too good to be true.

But as soon as they got to Houston and the male model competition got under way, Jerri decided it had been a terrible mistake to bring Bob. It had been silly to think that they could ever have anything more than friendship. He was just too gorgeous for words. Every single nubile woman under the age of eighty was after him.
Many of the older ones who were more physically fit were running marathons chasing after him. With his blond good looks and great sense of humor, they all threw their garters at him every time he walked into a room. What on earth would he want with a plain bookstore owner when he could have his pick of any one of five thousand women?
Jerri tried to laugh it all off as she watched woman after woman bat her eyelashes at him, or dance with him, or "accidentally" leave their room keys on the table, or in his pockets.
But after the third day of non-stop seminars for her and rehearsals for him during the day, and partying and dancing at night, Jerri's friend Paula noticed her looking dejected.
"Look, Jerri, I'm sure Bob likes you. It's just that he can't be sitting there holding your hand all the time, much as he'd like to. His dance card is pretty full, and he's working to win the competition too, you know. That would give him all sorts of opportunities he would be a fool to pass up. He's a gorgeous man. One modelling contract could set him up for life. Don't begrudge him that chance, and you have no right to be jealous if you have no claim over him. If you really like him, I'd say that you could make it more obvious. You're far too reserved. Live it up a little."
"I am reserved, in case you hadn't noticed. Besides, who are we both trying to kid? Look at him, wearing that red-head as a belt. It would never work! I'm used to the Boston. We're different people.
"If I start acting like those women, he'll think I'm no better than they are. Just after him for his looks, not his personality, who he really is deep down.
"And besides, maybe the trouble is that I don't really know him at all. Maybe he is just a flirt. Perhaps I have just been dazzled by him coming on so strong. Helen never should have tried to put us together. This whole trip has been a terrible mistake."
Paula gazed at the dazzllingly handsome cowboy on the dance floor for a moment. "I don't know. I think Helen was right. The two of you are great together. I don't think he's a flirt. Actually, from where I'm sitting, it looks to me like he's been spending most of his time trying to fight those women off.   I say go for it, Jerri. You could do a hell of a lot worse."
"Oh God, he's looking this way."
"He's coming over. Good luck." Paula waved and vanished.
Bob came over and asked, "Do you want to dance?"
She avoided his gaze. "No thanks, I'm fine here. There are plenty of other women lining up around the block to dance with you, so go on and enjoy yourself."
They stared at each other for the longest time. Jerri almost thought that Bob was going to do as she had suggested. But after a few steps he turned around. He sat down abruptly, took her hand, and said, "Look, darlin', I think I should pull out of the male model competition. I've been pinched so many times, my butt is black and blue.   And besides, there is no denying the call of nature..."
"If you want a pit stop, it's over there," she said, pointing at the men's room.
"No, not that call of nature. I mean you, Jerri. My feelings for you. I've tried to give you time to get to know me better. I've put up with all of these crazy women just so I could come on this trip with you. But all I've ever wanted was to sweep you off into an elevator, or my pick-up, or anywhere, and, well...." He paused, and blushed to the roots of his golden hair.
"Now you get tongue-tied?"
"Well, I could tell you a few more sheep jokes, or the one about the insurance."
"No, thanks. I think I get the idea."
He reached out to stroke her hair. "Then what do you say we get out of here and start a little private stampede of our own?"
Jerri took a deep breath, realizing her whole future was about to be decided in an instant. She told herself not to over-think things, and just listen to her heart. The next words out of her mouth sealed her fate. "I'd say... ride 'em cowboy."
Bob grabbed Jerri and gave her a passionate kiss, before sweeping her up into his arms.
"This is for keeps," he said, holding her close. "None of this ranging all over the prairie dipping in every well for me. I want us to grow old together, do everything together, even put our teeth in the same glass."
"But what about my bookstore?" she asked breathlessly.
"I've been saying for some time that Dogleg needs a bookstore. With some of the E-rotic novels I hear tell of on the internet."
"I don't write those, though mine do have some love scenes. You can save your whips and leather for the horses."
"Suits me fine."
"You don't mind my writing, then?"
He shook his head as he hurried along the corridor with her in his arms, breaking several fluttering female hearts along the way. "So long as you let me do the hands-on research with you, darlin', you can do whatever you want. Everything, that is, except come to a Romantic Tryst convention without me. If this is the way all the women behave around the male models, I'll never let you out of my sight again."
"That's only the way I behave around this model, I swear," she said, kissing him until both their heads spun.
The ping of the elevator was the only thing that dragged them back to reality.
"Going up?" she whispered.
He flashed her a stunning smile. "Honey, I was there from the moment we met. Your room or mine."
"Mine. Complete with bubble bath and room service when we come up for air."
"Hot dawg! You got it!"

Bob managed to get himself out of bed long enough to win Mr. Congeniality in the modeling competition.
He and Jerri celebrated by taking Aunt Helen's advice and trying out the bed in the Tarzan suite. It was every bit as wild as she had said.
As soon as they returned to Dogleg, they had a cowboy wedding with Bubba as brides-pig. They spent their local honeymoon at Bob's ranch, visiting Helen every day and enthusiastically researching her latest novel every night. It was a western featuring a blond cowboy hero, and titled Unbridled Passion.

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