by Arlene James
A young woman sat on the hood—the hood—of a sleek, charcoal gray Audi, peering down at something…
Oh, no.
At the base of the front left tire, Dev spotted a large animal stretched out on the ground.
Adrenaline surged through his veins and carried him forward. He sprinted across the yard, boots crunching over the patches of sun-scorched grass.
The woman’s head jerked up.
A shimmering curtain of silver blond hair parted to reveal the kind of face that ordinarily graced the cover of celebrity magazines. Porcelain skin. High cheekbones. Big blue eyes that, if it were possible, seemed to get even bigger when he skidded up to the car.
“What happened?” Dev ground out.
“It…it just came out of nowhere—”
Tourists.
Dev wasted a precious second to scowl at the woman. “How fast were you going, anyway?”
“Fast? I wasn’t…I didn’t hit it. I was—” A low growl snipped off the rest of the sentence and the woman skittered backward.
Dev dropped to his knees and the shaggy head snapped around, fangs bared around the object locked between its jaws.
Relief mixed with the adrenaline as Dev came face-to-face with a pair of intelligent, albeit guilty, brown eyes.
“Violet, no. Drop it.”
“Violet?” the woman squeaked.
“That’s her name.” Dev held out his hand and received a soggy shoe with a ridiculously high heel in return. He scrubbed a thumb over a tooth mark in the leather, winced when it didn’t come out. “I’m sorry she scared you. Violet might be the size of a Volkswagen Bug, but she’s harmless.”
“It…it looks like a wolf.”
Which explained why she’d taken refuge on the hood of her car. Sort of.
“Your average timber wolf doesn’t wear a collar.” Dev buried his hand in the thick ruff of fur around the dog’s neck and jingled a pink, heart-shaped tag as proof.
“I thought she was going to attack me.”
Dev arched a brow. “So you threw a shoe at her?”
“I didn’t throw it. It…fell off.” She was glaring at him now, not Violet.
Dev was getting the distinct impression that the blame had somehow shifted from the dog to its owner.
Violet bumped his arm, her pink tongue unfurling in a cheerful doggy grin, content to let him clean up the mess she’d made. Typical.
Dev buried a sigh and reached out his hand to help the woman down.
She didn’t move.
It occurred to Dev that he probably looked a little…rough. A razor hadn’t touched his face for over a week and his camo fatigues had been washed in a spring—
The breeze shifted and Dev saw the straight little nose twitch.
—And dried by the campfire.
Yup. Now she thinks you’re a serial arsonist.
He scraped up some of the manners that had gotten a little rusty from lack of use.
“I’m Dev McGuire.”
“Jenna—” Her lips compressed as if she regretted revealing that much information. “Just…Jenna.”
Dev wondered what he could say to reassure her that neither he—nor his dog—were a threat.
“I live next door.”
Eyes as blue as the forget-me-nots scattered along the shoreline fixed on a point beyond his shoulder, as if she were gauging the distance between the two places.
Now she moved. Away from him.
Dev’s lips tipped in a rueful smile.
Apparently that wasn’t it.
ISBN: 9781459238695
CARBON COPY COWBOY
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:
CARBON COPY COWBOY
Copyright © 2012 by Harlequin Books S.A.
WHEN NIGHT FALLS
Copyright © 2009 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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