Too Sexy for his Stetson Read Online Free Page A

But when they did, she wanted to be damn good and ready.
    Five minutes later, as she leaned against the wall next to the water cooler, Beringer stepped from his office, glanced her way, and ambled toward her. She gripped the empty paper cup in a stranglehold.
    “Truce?” He extended his hand.
    “Was there a war?”
    “A minor skirmish.” He pried open her fingers and removed the crunched container, his other hand stalling on hers.
    “Who won?” she asked, too aware of the heat burning her skin, fingertips to wrist.
    “It was a standoff. Nothing that can’t be solved by getting to know each other better. And since we’ll be spending more time together than most married couples, I predict we’ll become allies.”
    Spending long hours with one’s field training officer was a given. However, comparing their camaraderie to marriage sent Brandy’s pulse racing. She glanced down at his large hand engulfing hers and tried to tame the silly tingling reaction dancing along every nerve in her body.
    Allies? Maybe. But no matter how wildly his touch churned her blood, he’d never be anything more than a colleague. Sure, trusting fellow officers was part of a deputy’s M.O. But bonding on a personal level wasn’t in Brandy’s private M.O. Bonds were always broken. She had no family connections, and she’d always shied away from close–knit groups. She was a loner. And no way would she be bonding with Beringer, who was buddy–buddy with Skip Coogan, number one on her personal enemy list.

CHAPTER THREE
    H is shoulder hit Brandy’s sternum, and she went down, hard, a small “oomph” escaping her lips. He was heavy, muscular, but she fought hard and managed to roll out from beneath him. His arm snaked out and hauled her back, against his chest, his hand closing around her throat.
    “Come on, Brandy! Get your head in the game,” Blade said, disgusted, as he released her and they pushed to their feet. “Let’s try it again. Come on everyone. One more time.”
    Groans all around.
    Todd Christiansen headed back to his place. Blade pulled Brandy aside. “What’s the deal? I know you’re better than this. You had this training at the academy, so show me what you can do.”
    The deal was, Blade Beringer stirred her hormones. She shouldn’t react sensually to the feel of his muscles wrapped around her. But every time he touched her, shivers rippled through her body, and she couldn’t help thinking about his arms encasing her, his big body taking charge in a very different way.
    Stop thinking, Wilcox. He’s your freaking FTO, for Chrissakes.
    And, the deal was, it was about a hundred degrees in the training gym, and every time Blade’s ripped chest pressed against her breasts, it got hotter.
    More importantly, the deal was, maybe she didn’t have her head in the game because she couldn’t stop thinking about Blade’s connection with Skip Coogan. They were friends. Sooner or later, that was going to wedge a giant axe between her and her FTO.
    “Remember, actions are quicker than reactions,” he said. “When your brain responds to a situation, you have to assess and then make a decision. Are you going for your pistol or your Taser? The response has to become automatic. That means your finger has to be in position. You have to decide whether to pull the trigger or not in a split–second… and hope you don’t make an oh–shit choice.”
    “I know. I know.”
    “Do like you did yesterday, Brandy.”
    Which time yesterday? When the Neo Nazis opened fire? Or when she’d apprehended Blade? Jesus, Wilcox, just don’t ask anyone to lose their drawers.
    Blade tossed her weapon back to her.
    Okay. Focus. Stop thinking… and kick some ass.
    “Here’s the setup. You and you partner have been called out on a domestic violence complaint in a bad part of town. As soon as you walk into the house and confront the subjects, start your assessment.
    “Is it a routine family squabble that has already cooled off before