Her Cowboy's Caress (Taken by Cowboys: Part 1) A Billionaire Western Romance by A.L. Loire

Chapter 1
    The wind whipped the hair around her
shoulders, bringing tears to her eyes. She was standing on a
wide-open plain with a swirling sky above her, a sky that felt
overwhelmingly vast. It felt like a storm was picking up. She
shielded her eyes in an effort to make out the figure standing a
few feet in front of her.
    The person was a man—a heart-stoppingly
handsome man. He was dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy
hat, with sandy blond hair falling across his tanned face in the
wind. “Jess,” he said in a lazy Western lilt that sent a warm
ripple of want straight through her. A smile played on his full
lips. “Just the person I’ve been waiting for.”
    She wanted to respond but couldn’t get out a
word—her desire had rendered her mute. Her legs trembled so badly
she thought she might fall over. Before that could happen, though,
he was right in front of her. He wrapped his strong arms around her
and pulled her close to him. She gasped and melted into his heat,
the length of his muscled body sending sharp needles of need all
through her own. She wrapped her arms around his broad back to pull
him to her even harder. The whipping wind seemed to have simply
disappeared, so that all that existed was the two of them. He raked
a hand through her long hair and tilted her chin up, his lips just
inches away from hers. She closed her eyes and…
    “Jess!” someone cried. This time the voice
that spoke her name was not warm and sweet as caramel. It was
sharp, shrill and female.
    “ Jess! ” the haranguing voice
repeated, this time with more irritation.
    The fantasy Jess had been enjoying was
abruptly broken. Always at the good part , she thought,
annoyed, as her eyes fluttered open. Then her annoyance gave way to
a sheepish realization as images of a windy plane and a hot cowboy
were replaced by stark white walls and Mac monitors. She had fallen
asleep at work—again.
    “Yes, Lauren?” she asked with as much
cheerful sincerity as she could muster. It came out garbled and
sleep-choked, as if she had just swallowed a frog.
    Lauren, Jess’s boss, shot her a withering
look. Tall, blonde, and rail skinny, she was the embodiment of the
fashion PR industry, and everything Jess was not. Lauren was always
dressed in layers of fabric, all of it expensive and all of it
black. Today she was wearing skinny black jeans tucked into black
ankle boots, a black chiffon blouse with silver studs, and a black
leather jacket, her hair pulled into a swishy high ponytail. The
combination made her pale skin and pretty though rather angular
features even more pronounced. She was like a model in a skincare
ad—flawless, impeccable, but not quite flesh and blood.
    “I’m going out for a smoke,” she said,
picking up her black Balenciaga handbag and slinging it over her
shoulder. “I expect the Christophe account—which, by the way, I
gave you three hours ago —to be done by the time I get
back.”
    Reluctantly Jess swiveled the mouse on her
desk, bringing the computer monitor back to life. She cast a dark
glare at Lauren’s back as her boss slinked away. Dragging the
Christophe account back onto the screen, she was overwhelmed by a
feeling of boredom that bordered on nausea. She was sick of this
office, with its all-white walls and furniture. What was with PR
people and monochrome? she wondered as she listlessly scrolled
through the account. Lauren and her all-black, the office and its
all-white. The only real color was the vase of flowers in the
reception area, which was brought in every week by a high-end
flower company. The beautiful bouquet of lush lilies and white
roses, exotic and fragrant, had so impressed her when she’d walked
into the office for her interview. After she’d gotten the job, she
had even secretly saved a tiger lily when she saw the bouquet
getting pitched into the garbage after its one week of glory was
over. Now she hated those flowers. They were like the whole PR
business—pretentious, gaudy and