Ambushed by Shara Azod Page A

leave
    anyway. He definitely had never wanted to leave her .
    Back in high school Tex and Alexandria had
    been more than a little tight. The tiny spitfire had been
    his best friend. It wasn't until after he’d left that he
    had realized she’d actually meant a hell of lot more to
    him than he’d ever comprehended. Those melting
    chocolate eyes framed by thick curling lashes haunted
    him at night. Those rosebud lips seemed to whisper to
    him in the breeze while he was out on the range,
    yearning for home. He missed the smell of her light
    golden skin, missed the texture of the yards of shiny,
    inky black curls he used to love to tug on to tease her.
    How was it he’d never realized what a precious
    find she was before? Had he been that blind as a
    young buck not to see how sexy she was behind those
    oversized sweaters and ankle-length skirts? They used
    to spend many a lazy summer day in this very library;
    Alex would read the romances she so dearly loved and

    13
    sigh, while he was usually researching new ways to
    break a horse or breeding techniques. There weren’t
    many cowboys who willingly admitted a love of
    reading, but Alex had never made fun of him for it.
    She’d encouraged it and even shown him some of her
    fledgling writing.
    After high school Alex had gone off to Austin to
    college, and Tex was left with a hard choice. He could
    stay on the ranch, demanding a tiny piece of what had
    been a tiny operation, or he could strike out on his
    own. He’d chosen to strike out, promising to write his
    onetime best friend, but he never seemed to get
    around to it.
    Then he’d picked up the book, smiling at the
    premise on the back. It had sounded eerily familiar.
    He’d bought it on a whim, thinking of Alex the entire
    time. Late that night in the bunkhouse, he’d begun to
    read and he’d known with certainty Alex had written
    it. It was a revised version of one of the romantic
    cowboy tales she’d written in high school, and man
    had she added the spice. The cowboy had tied the
    heroine up seven ways to Sunday, done her in every
    position possible and even some he’d never even heard
    of before, and all without losing that sweet edge that
    was so Alex.
    Although his dreams of her had started long
    before he’d ever seen that damn book, reading it had
    made it worse. He had become a walking, talking
    erection that nothing could appease but her. He didn’t
    have a clue when it was he’d fallen head over heels for
    her, but he was good and gone. It had gotten so bad he
    couldn’t even look at another woman. It didn’t feel
    right.

    14
    Since he’d returned a month ago, Tex had kept a
    low profile. He only came into town late in the
    afternoon and usually only here to the library. He
    watched and waited for the perfect opportunity to
    announce his return. First, he’d had to make sure she
    wasn't attached. He wasn't quite sure what he would
    have done in that case. Homicide wasn't something
    he’d considered until he’d seen her again.
    Time had been more than kind to Alexandria; it
    had seasoned her just right. She had always been a
    short, soft little thing. Now she was well rounded,
    feminine and full. She had the kind of hips that invited
    a nice, long, hard ride. Her skin seemed to gleam
    tannish gold, deeper than what he remembered. He
    hadn’t gotten close enough to smell her yet, but he
    could imagine she smelled like wildflowers and honey.
    Her hair now hung freely down her back in riotous
    curls. No longer jet black, it seemed kissed with
    browns and golds here and there. She used to always
    gather it up in a ponytail. He had stroked himself to
    completion many a night imagining grasping hold of
    the tail and hanging on for the ride. No more. Now he
    wanted to bury his face in it. He wanted the strands to
    whip across his chest and belly while she rode him like
    the wildcat he knew her to be underneath all that quiet
    reserve. He wanted those apple cheeks heated, flushed
    with passion, those