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For Love of Charley
After Cole made passionate love to her one night, he vanished without a word, so Charley doesn't trust him worth a damn when he reappears. Especially when she discovers it's his company that bought half of her business, the Red Dog Saloon. But Cole has big plans for the town that once shunned him, and as Charley finds herself working with him daily, the love she's tried so hard to suppress blooms again. Only one thing stands in their way; Cole's refusal to tell her why he left so abruptly. While they fight their way back to each other, outside influences
work to keep them apart at any cost.even death. Excerpt Even though he was worn out, Cole dressed carefully for his first trip to The Red Dog. Shunning the designer suits that were his normal uniform in L.A., he grabbed his oldest pair of jeans and slid them on. The bottoms where slightly flared to fit over his boots, and the hems were a little ragged. He added a simple, white cotton shirt and tucked it in, fastening a wide belt around his waist. Stomping his feet into boots, he picked up the suede jacket that had been tossed over a chair and put it on. His glance swept the house as he went down the stairs. At least the furniture was all in place. There were only a few boxes left to be unpacked in the kitchen, and Mrs. Paulson would be miffed if he didn't let her arrange things to her own satisfaction. When it came to the kitchen, she was the undisputed dictator. Kristy was sprawled on the floor of the living room, blueprints scattered around her. She looked up, did a double take, then grinned. "Be still, my foolish heart. I swear, Cole, if you keep dressing like that, I may have to push Charley off a cliff." Cole laughed. "You'd be turned on by a scarecrow if it were dressed in jeans and boots." She tilted her head sideways, eyes narrowed as she considered his statement, then sighed. "You're right. There's just something about all those bulging muscles covered in denim that makes me get flushed all over. I think it's hormonal." She paused and her gaze swept him again. "I thought the idea was to not impress her. 'Cause I feel obligated to tell you, you are gonna knock her socks off looking like that." Cole's smile turned to one of satisfaction. "Good. I want her to be impressed. I just don't want her to think I'm trying to do it." "And they say women are devious." He picked up the car keys from the table by the door. "Are you going to be okay alone for a while? I don't figure I'll be gone long." "Hit and run, huh? Yeah, I'll be fine. I picked up some groceries in town on the way through. I'm going to make a western omelet later. If you're back in time, I'll fix you one." "No onions in mine." "Chicken!" Her words followed him through the door. Still chuckling, he climbed into the Jag and headed toward The Red Dog Saloon, his sense of anticipation growing with every mile. After ten long, lonely years, the waiting was over. Tonight he would see Charley. * * * * * The parking lot in front of The Red Dog was almost full, and the sounds of country-western music drifted from the door as Cole stepped out of the Jag. His gaze swept the building, taking in the additions that his money had made possible. The saloon was twice the size it had been when he'd left town. Charley had done a good job of blending the new with the old. The plank siding on the new half wasn't as weathered as the older part of the building, but given a year, it would be. Gravel crunched underfoot as he walked, and he made a mental note to check into having it paved. The Red Dog was located nearer Duncan Mills than it was to Canyon Bend. When the tourists started flocking to the area, the saloon was going to become a major stopping point. Business was going to boom here as well as in Canyon Bend. And along with the boom, problems were going to arise. He'd already set up a meeting with the Canyon Bend City Council to discuss the issues. Pausing at the double saloon doors, Cole made a quick survey of the room then slipped in, standing to one side as his eyes adjusted to the gloom of the dimly lit interior. Choosing a table in the darkest corner of the room, he slid through the crowd and pulled out a chair. He wanted time to look the place over before he confronted Charley. He also wanted time to look at Charley, herself. People ebbed and flowed between the saloon and the new dance floor, blocking his view of the bar. Shouts of laughter erupted from the far corner where an unlucky cowboy had just been tossed by the mechanical bull that was also a new addition to the business. With a swish of satin skirts, a waitress stopped at his table. She was dressed in the costume of an old-time saloon girl, the strapless bodice of the dress looking like it was held up by willpower alone. Bright red feathers adorned the spangled headband that circled her forehead. "Hi. I'm Frannie. Welcome to The Red Dog Saloon. What can I get you tonight?" "A draft." "Coming right up." Cole watched her wend her way skillfully through the crowd and step up to the bar. Suddenly, every other thought vanished from his mind. Charley was there, her chestnut curls caught in a ponytail at her nape, a towel over one shoulder. Sweat shone on her face under the bar lights, catching on escaped tendrils of hair that clung to her skin. She was even more beautiful now than she had been at nineteen. His starved gaze followed her every move as she turned and laughed at some comment from farther down the bar. Only iron control kept him seated, kept him from going to her and dragging her over the bar into his arms. It would be the worst possible thing he could do. Frannie reappeared at his table and put a mug of beer in front of him. "There you go, Champ. If you need anything else, just give me a yell. We don't stand on formality around here." Cole nodded. "Thanks. I'll remember that." He leaned back in the chair, legs crossed as he took a swallow of the beer, his gaze never leaving Charley. She was in constant motion, her slim body flitting from one end of the bar to the other, taking orders and mixing drinks. Her attention was focused on her customers, smiling and chatting as she worked, and they responded to her in the same manner. It gave the saloon the air of a big, happy family reunion, rather than a place of public business. When he'd almost finished the beer, Cole took a piece of paper from his pocket and jotted a quick note on it. Folding it in half, he motioned Frannie back. "Would you give this to the lady behind the bar, please?" "Sure." She took the note from his hand. "But I have to tell you, you're wasting your time. Charley doesn't date much." "Oh?" Cole hid his sudden interest by taking another sip from the glass. "And why is that?" "Believe it or not, Champ, not every woman on the planet is panting to snag a husband. Charley does just fine on her own. She's not interested in anything but The Red Dog." "I suspect she may be interested in what I have to say." "It's your funeral. Can I get you another beer?" "No, thanks. I'm fine." He watched as Frannie headed straight for the bar and stopped
in front of Charley. |
It's
been ten years since Cole Jordan was run out of Canyon Bend, ten
years he spent accumulating a vast fortune. Now he's back with
only one goal in mind. To win the woman he left behind, the woman
he never forgot. This time, not even her wealthy, overprotective
uncle will stop him. Because everything he's done, he's done for
love of Charley.