# Worth The Risk

Charlene Sands

## Sleeping with Jackson was a stupid move.

But not remembering all of it? Now that was just plain wrong. She was experiencing the guilt without as much as a hot spicy memory to go along with it. Now, she’d never know. There would be no repeats of last night.

Yesterday, she’d gone to the annual shoe convention, hoping to muster some interest in her failing business. The economy was slumping and only the stronger companies were surviving. No one was interested in infusing capital in her small, very unique boutique.

No one … except Jackson Worth.

Then it dawned on her. Her head spun and her eyes widened with realization. “Oh my goodness, Jackson. We’re … partners.”

Jackson’s mouth quirked with a quizzical smile, then he sighed deeply. “We made a deal before the champagne arrived, darlin’. You signed on the dotted line. Boot Barrage is now half mine.”

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Red Ridge for my final Worth story! In Worth the Risk, we are reunited with Sammie Gold from Carrying the Rancher’s Heir. Sammie is hoping to make a fresh start in Arizona, and literally gives handsome, fun-loving ladies’ man Jackson Worth the boot! The hunky cowboy has labeled his sister-in-law’s best friend and new business partner “off-limits.” (And we all know how well that works out in romance novels!)

I had fun researching and virtual shopping while designing Sammie and Jackson’s Boot Barrage. And hey, I even fashioned my very own style of boots. You’ll have to look for the Mariannas in the story and tell me what you think!

I’ve really enjoyed writing each and every one of these romances, so my farewell to the Worth family is a little bittersweet. With this last book, I’ll have to say goodbye, temporarily at least, to the wonderful state of Arizona and glorious sunsets, jutting crimson mountains and the fictitious town of Red Ridge, one of the greatest places on earth. I will say goodbye to Worth Ranch and to Tagg, Clay, Chance and Jackson. Each one of these wonderful Worth men have kept me up nights. A girl can’t ask for much more than that!

Thanks to all of you for supporting, enjoying and encouraging me while I spent time in Red Ridge. I promise you more rugged cowboys to come!!

Stories “Worth” Reading!

Carrying the Rancher’s Heir The Cowboy’s Pride A Cowboy Worth Claiming Worth The Risk

With love,

Charlene Sands

## About the Author

CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of thirty-five romance novels, writing sexy contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. Her books have been honored with the National Readers’s Choice Award, the CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award and she’s a double recipient of the Booksellers’ Best Award. She belongs to the Orange County Chapter and the Los Angeles Chapter of RWA.

Charlene knows a little something about true romance—she married her high school sweetheart! When she’s not writing, she enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors, spoiling her two cats and loving up her new baby granddaughters! You can find her on Twitter and Facebook. Be sure to visit her website for fun blogs and her ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com.

## Worth The Risk

Charlene Sands


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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This book is dedicated to my dear pals at LARA. Many

thanks for your constant support,

friendship and encouragement.

I appreciate every member of the chapter!

These wonderful people include:

Debbie Decker, Tanya Hanson, Robin Bielman,

Kathy Bennett, Lynne Marshall, Ericka Scott, Maria

Seager, Erica Barton, Dee J. Adams, Eden Bradley,

Jennifer Haymore, Carol Ericson, Linda O. Johnston,

Samantha Le, Allison Morse, Christine London, Sandy

Robinson, Jody Brightman, Roz Lee, Robena Grant

and Christine Ashworth. To Rick Ochocki for always

making us laugh at the meetings and to so many others!

You all rock!

## One

A woman’s boots.

They sat on the floor, next to the bed. A fancy curlicue design stitched on smooth chocolate leather trailed to the top of the zippered knee-highs. Seeing them brought a smile to Jackson Worth’s lips. He lifted his arms quietly, stretching out while trying not to awaken his sleeping companion. Images invaded his mind of how sexy she’d looked wearing those boots and how turned on he’d been sliding them off her coltish legs. Her short skirt and scoop-necked top had come next, with very little effort on his part, as he recalled.

It didn’t make a lick of sense. But he couldn’t deny that after taking one look at his sister-in-law’s best friend, Sammie Gold, approaching him at the hotel bar last night, with her familiar sweet smile, slender hips swaying and those incredible boots catching the overhead lighting, he’d been thunderstruck with lust.

But Jackson Worth was no fool. There’d be hell to pay for what he’d done. He’d hear it from both his brothers, Clay and Tagg, but the worst of the wrath would come from Callie. Tagg’s wife would take his head off and probably threaten to disown him.

Bright sunshine seeped in through the drapes and he closed his eyes, trying to ward off the headache pounding in his skull. The woman beside him on the king-size bed stirred and the scent of jasmine filled the air. Jackson breathed it in, and damn if his sated body didn’t react, just from the sweetness.

Never before had he mixed business with pleasure, but this time, he’d outdone himself.

Sammie rolled over and her arm flopped onto his chest, her fingers on his skin, soft and possessive. She murmured something in her sleep that sounded too much like “boot-scooting boogie.”

He glanced at the top of her pixie-cut, brown hair with colors of caramel, chestnut and rum blending like those of a rare gem. She was cute but not the kind of woman he usually dated. He winced at how that sounded, even to him.

He hadn’t dated her. He’d slept with her.

Yep, Callie wasn’t going to be happy when she found out. Without giving Jackson so much as a verbal warning to be on his best behavior, his sister-in-law had asked a favor of him, giving him her full trust.

Sammie’s had it rough lately. She’s lost her father and her business. Take her under your wing, Jackson. Help her. Please. It means a lot to me.

He’d blown that trust to hell.

Slowly, Sammie lifted her head off the pillow. Disoriented, she peered at him with deep brown eyes. “Jackson?”

“Morning, darlin’.”

Her gaze darted around the elegant room. She blinked and refocused, then shook her head to clear it. All the color drained from her face and her eyes grew round as poker chips. She lifted herself up, the covers falling away from her unclothed body. Her breasts appeared, small, round and firm. Jackson silently groaned. If she were any other woman, they’d be halfway to heaven again this morning.

With a gasp, she looked down and grabbed the sheets to her chest. “Oh, no!” She sent him a questioning stare, blinking rapidly. “We didn’t.”

It wasn’t the usual reaction he received from a woman after a night of great sex. “Apparently, we did.”

She made an unfeminine groan and searched the room, looking for some sign of familiarity. “Where am I?”

“Paris.”

She gulped air and her voice squeaked. “France?”

This was worse than he thought. “Las Vegas.”

She collapsed against the back of the bed, her head cushioned by a feather-down pillow that billowed when she landed. She looked up at the ceiling, clutched the covers to her chin and muttered, “How did this happen?”

He was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, but Jackson had the need to answer her anyway. With his head propped in his hand and elbow braced on the bed, he met her tentative eyes. He gave her the only explanation that would make any sense.

“Boots.”

Sammie’s muddled brain began to clear and through the haze she remembered coming to Las Vegas for a shoe convention. Her best friend, Callie Worth, had insisted that, because Jackson was in Las Vegas at the same time, she meet with him. Jackson had a good head for business. Jackson could help get her out of the financial mess she was in. Jackson could give her sound advice. Sammie had been robbed by her last boyfriend, an accountant who’d known how to juggle numbers and her heart—before absconding with nearly everything she’d owned.

She’d felt like a gullible idiot to have believed his lies.

She still felt that way, only now she had Jackson Worth to contend with, too.

Ever since her father had died a few months ago, Sammie hadn’t made good judgment calls. But this might have been the dumbest thing she’d ever done … sleeping with her best friend’s brother-in-law.

She spotted her clothes on the floor. They painted a vivid trail of lust to the bed. Her blouse, her skirt, her bra and her thong panties were strung like drying clothes on the line, one right after the other. A whimper, bordering on panic, rose from her throat. “How much champagne did I drink last night?”

She cringed, waiting for his answer.

He seemed to be calculating in his head. “Not that much … maybe two glasses.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I—I don’t normally drink. It affects me. I get, uh—”

He sent her a knowing look. “Wild and sexy?”

“Oh, no, did I seduce you?”

A smile caught the corners of his mouth. “It was mutual, Sammie. You don’t remember?”

He’d been helpful, that much she remembered. They’d spoken business for half the night at the bar and they’d had some laughs, too. Then the champagne had arrived. After the first glass, she’d been fine, but she should have stopped at one. Having two glasses of the good stuff, with her sensitivity to alcohol and her slight frame … well, she should have known better.

Sammie had traveled from Boston a few months ago to attend Callie’s wedding and had met Jackson then. They’d had several conversations and had developed a cordial friendship. He was devastating to look at. Gorgeous with a capital G. He was so out of her league that she’d never entertained thoughts of being anything more than casual friends.

She glanced at the silk sheets, the expensive room and the man who was probably buck-ass naked under the covers beside her. Somewhere between the elevator ride up to the room and Jackson peeling off her boots, her mind went a little fuzzy.

Oh, boy. “Not really. I don’t remember … much.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have had that second glass of champagne.”

Jackson stroked her arm, his finger making circles just above her elbow. She trembled from his touch. A jolt of throbbing heat pulsed between her thighs and her memory cleared for a second. She remembered something … how her body reacted when he touched her. “It’s a little late for that confession.”

He was right. Last night at the bar she’d thrown caution to the wind. Tired of being Miss Goody Two-shoes, the bridesmaid and never the bride, and tired of denying that Jackson Worth was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, she’d done something totally out of character. She’d wrapped herself around Jackson on the dance floor and kissed him. He must have thought her needy and pathetic. “Th-that’s me, always late to the party.”

“Sammie,” he said, his rasp deep and low enough to remind her how much she was missing out on by not remembering last night, “just so we’re straight—you wanted to be at the party.”

“I, uh … I know.” What woman in her right mind wouldn’t want to be?

She squeezed her eyes shut. She should have been more cautious. She blamed her behavior on losing her father and her business in a short span of time. But getting real with herself meant facing the truth. Last night she’d needed an ego boost and broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, sandy-haired hunk Jackson Worth was just the man to lift her out of the dumps. Not only was he an eyeful, but he’d been sweet, helpful and attentive. The combination had been irresistible.

Sleeping with Jackson was a stupid move—but not remembering all of it? Now that was just plain wrong. She was experiencing the guilt without as much as a hot spicy memory to go along with it. Now, she’d never know. And there would be no repeats of last night.

Yesterday she’d gone to the annual shoe convention hoping to muster some interest in her failing business. The economy was slumping and only the stronger companies were surviving. No one was interested in infusing capital in her small, unique boutique.

No one … except Jackson Worth.

Then it dawned on her. Her head spun and her eyes widened with realization. “Oh, my goodness, Jackson. We’re … partners.”

Jackson’s mouth quirked with a quizzical smile, then he sighed deeply. “We made a deal before the champagne arrived, darlin’. You signed on the dotted line. Boot Barrage is now half mine.”

Sammie lay in bed, her head cushioned on the pillow, listening to the crank of the faucet being turned on in the next room. The rush of water filled her ears and as the shower door opened then closed with a definite click, she didn’t have to imagine what Jackson Worth looked like in the buff. No, five minutes ago he’d bounded off the bed in his birthday suit, beautifully tan, with the greatest backside she’d ever seen on a guy, and sauntered toward the bathroom.

“You sure you don’t want to go first?” he’d asked.

She’d crawled farther under the sheets, shaking her head. “No, you go first. I’d rather wait.” Now she lay on the bed, her pulse pounding in her ears. For a girl who’d wanted to make a fresh start on a new life, she’d really put her foot in it. Among other things.

Sweet heaven.

A tremble erupted throughout her body like small aftershocks hitting one right after the other as the heavy weight of her indiscretion slowly sank into her brain. She tried taking deep breaths to calm her wayward nerves. It didn’t work. Her breaths came out in short rapid bursts.

Then she remembered her yoga instruction, something she’d come to rely on when Allen the Loser had accounted his way out of her life, taking with him the bulk of her hard-earned cash. Slowly she sat up on the bed and swiveled to plant her feet on the floor. She stood, circled her arms above her head, stretching out until her fingertips touched, pinkies down, and inhaled slowly, deeply, letting oxygen fill her lungs. Then just as slowly, with finesse she’d learned from the yoga master, she let her breath out smoothly as she lowered her arms and hinged her body in half until her fingers touched her toes. Better. Much better. She repeated the movements several times. Tension rolled off her. Her fuzzy head cleared and the rapid beats of her heart ebbed to a restful rate.

It was amazing how well the technique worked on her.

For the short term anyway.

She was certain she’d have many more moments of anxiety. Her life was about to change forever. Moving across the country and starting up a new venture in an unfamiliar town was enough to make her anxious. And spending the night with Jackson, her new partner, and having to face him on a regular basis wasn’t exactly the best-case scenario for a girl who’d blundered with her last love affair.

So far she was batting a big fat zero in her new life.

The peaceful hum of water ceased with another turn of the faucet, and the shower door clicked open. Sammie sank back onto the bed, lifting the sheets to her chin, making sure her naked self was adequately covered. Instead of picking up her clothes and getting dressed, she’d been focused on yoga. Ironically, all of the peace she’d gained in the past few minutes was effectively wiped away as the door to the bathroom opened and Jackson strode out.

He wore a plush robe the color of rich dark ink. Black suited him, and the day-old stubble on a chiseled face and wet, blond-streaked hair curling at his collar put him on par with a GQ model. But then, she’d already known that about Jackson Worth. He wore his clothes with style, he had a smile that could melt Arctic ice and, darn him, he had a charming personality that would set any female’s mind spinning. The bottom line … Jackson was dreamy and dangerous and last night all of her internal warning signals had malfunctioned.

He carried a snowy robe in hand and tossed it onto the bed. It landed beside her in a heap of marshmallow softness. “Maybe you should get dressed,” he said, his usual air of confidence a little shaken. “We need to talk.”

Without waiting for her response, he moved to the window to allow the daylight in and caught a glimpse of a replica of the Eiffel Tower. With Jackson gazing out the window, she hurried her arms into the robe and tied it around her waist. Snatching her clothes off the floor, she headed toward the bathroom.

Her shower was quick and efficient. If circumstances were different, she would have luxuriated in the giant-sized marble enclosure with three directional faucets and lingered under the waterfall-like spray. She would have lathered herself with smooth-as-silk body wash and then treated her limbs to a citrus lotion massage. But Jackson was waiting and they had some serious talking to do.

She dressed in the clothes she’d worn to the convention yesterday, a little rumpled now from their night on the floor. With fingers gingerly moving through her hair, the thick, short layers fell back into place without much fuss. There was something to be said about good-hair days even when all else seemed to be going downhill.

She padded out of the bathroom in bare feet and noted Jackson was still standing by the window, but this time with a coffee cup in his hand. Sometime during her shower, room service had arrived. It always amazed her how magic seemed to happen to wealthy people and how much they took it for granted. With a snap of fingers, their every wish was granted.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Jackson was wealthy though, because he, unlike so many others that had refused her, had entered into a business arrangement with her. They were partners now, and Sammie had no illusions about his reasons. Normally, a cattle baron with investments in major real estate developments and the stock market wouldn’t give a small-time boot seller the time of day, but Jackson was doing Callie a favor by backing Sammie’s boutique. It made Sammie even more determined to make her business a success. She didn’t want to disappoint Callie or have the Worth family look upon her as a charity case.

The dining table was set for two with white linens and a cheery vase of flowers. A vast assortment of breakfast foods covered the surface from end to end. Her appetite had waned the second she’d woken up next to Jackson, but now, after a good cleansing had given her a slightly better outlook on life, she heeded her stomach’s grumble for nourishment. Those white-chocolate raspberry muffins were calling to her.

Jackson turned from the window to meet her eyes. His gaze slid up and down her body, then his lips came together in a smile he couldn’t hide. He quickly took a sip of his coffee.

“What?” she asked.

He gave his head a quick shake. “You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” she blurted.

His eyes raked over her one more time, then he shrugged, as if giving her the answer wouldn’t be the end of the world. “You look cute.”

“Cute?” She glanced down at the cream-and-brown plaid pleated skirt and narrow tailored ivory blouse she’d tucked into it. The whole ensemble was designed to be worn with a solid cream blazer and her classic brown zippered knee-high boots, which tied the entire outfit together. She’d dressed for the convention to show how an entire look can be created and changed simply by wearing the right boots. It all came down to the power of the boot.

She wiggled her bare toes. Her boots were on Jackson’s side of the bed. Her blazer was slung across a wing chair in the far corner of the room. No boots, no power. What was left was cute?

“You hungry?” he asked, glancing away from her toward the dining area.

“Yes. I could eat.”

He gestured for her to go first. She moved across the room and took a seat at one end of the table. Jackson, still in his plush robe, sat down adjacent to her. He poured her coffee and waited for her to sip it. Once. Twice. The French roast was pure heaven, warming her throat and giving her the fortification she needed to get through this conversation.

His eyes stayed on her with interest and a surge of uneasiness gripped her. “What’s up?” she said.

Jackson smiled again, that killer I-know-something-you-don’t-know smile. “You really don’t want to know.”

She swallowed coffee so fast it burned her throat. Her traitorous eyes dipped below his waist, not that she’d see anything beyond the table’s edge, but the intent was there and Jackson noticed.

“Oh.”

“Listen,” he began, shifting in his seat to face her fully. “I’m not the kind of guy to kiss and tell, but especially now, because of my relationship with Callie—and yours—I think it’s best if we put last night behind us. It was a mistake and I take full responsibility.”

Sammie winced inwardly. She knew what he was getting at, but for a man to say sleeping with her was a mistake was hard to hear, regardless of the man. But to hear it coming from Jackson Worth was really a slam to her ego. “It’s not entirely your fault, Jackson. I played a part in it. Not that I remember … too much.”

Jackson pulled a deep breath into his lungs as his eyes gleamed with private knowledge. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Why? Was it that good between them? Or that bad? She didn’t have the nerve to ask.

She bet few if any of his women had forgotten what it was like to make love with Jackson. And if his ego was bruised, he wasn’t letting on. Sammie wished she’d had a memory to take with her of a night she’d often fantasized about, but that wasn’t the most important thing now.

“I really want a fresh start in Arizona. Callie’s friendship is important to me. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other and I would rather not lie to her, but not telling isn’t exactly the same as lying, is it?”

“No, it’s not. It’ll be our little secret. No one has to know what happened and we’ll move on from here, Sammie.”

“Okay, we’ll keep it a secret. I’m not one to go bragging either. I mean, it was just sex, right?”

Jackson began to nod and then stopped himself. His lips pursed. “I’m taking the fifth. Any man in his right mind wouldn’t answer that question.”

Sammie smiled for the first time since she’d opened her eyes this morning. “You’re a wise man.”

“Am I?” His gaze swept over her again and Sammie felt the heat down to her bones.

“You think I’m cute.”

He grinned. “Cute can be sexy.”

“Obviously.”

He laughed.

She grabbed a muffin and took a big bite. She was feeling a little better now that they’d cleared the air. Neither one of them had any expectations, which was half the battle. The other half was to remember that Jackson Worth was her business partner and strictly off-limits. She could do that. She had to—there was no other option.

After breakfast, Jackson came out of the bathroom dressed in dark slacks and a western shirt. He’d offered to drive her to the motor hotel to pack her belongings and then take her to the airport to catch her flight to Boston. He plopped his Stetson on his head, looking like a Worth through and through as he stood by the bed, arms folded, watching her slip on her brown leather boots.

“There,” she said, closing up the long zipper and straightening to full height, adjusting her feet in the boots. She met his eyes as she put on her blazer and gave her hair a toss. “I’m ready to go.”

He glanced at her boots and then lifted his gaze to follow the contour of her legs. He had the oddest expression on his face but quickly shook it off. He took her hand and led her out the door. “Let’s get outta here.”

They’d made a pact and the old cliché held true. What happens in Vegas …

Sharing a secret with Jackson Worth could be thrilling. If only it wasn’t so darn necessary.

## Two

It was early fall back in Boston, just when the leaves were starting to turn and the entire city was awash with burnt-orange and gold foliage. It was by far Sammie’s favorite time of year, when cooler air replaced summer humidity and fresh breezes rustled the trees. But there was no rustling of trees in Arizona. Not today anyway. The air was still and the land desolate but for the vegetation and shrubbery that had been transplanted to the desert from more tropical climes.

She would miss her hometown, but her life was no longer there and as soon as she’d landed at Sky Harbor Airport yesterday and stepped foot on Arizona soil, new excitement, a thrill she hadn’t felt for a long time, surged through her system. This was it—her chance to make a fresh start. Her life would be here now and she had every intention of looking toward the future.

She stood in the middle of the large empty storefront, her eyes darting from the shiny hardwood flooring covering the expanse of the room, to the clean, unadorned walls. She took in the subtle scent of fresh paint. Lifting her head, she viewed thick beams of wood crisscrossing the ceiling, giving it a rustic charm. The place was perfect and in that perfection, she also saw Jackson Worth’s handiwork. He’d picked a great Scottsdale location for the boutique, right smack in the heart of prime shopping for the middle to upper class of Phoenix society.

The sound of her boots clicking against the floors echoed her movements as she walked toward the front door. It was a lonely sound, one that reminded her of all she’d lost, of the emptiness she’d fought for months, but Sammie wouldn’t allow her mind to go there today. She had too much to be thankful for and heaven knew, she’d cried enough for two lifetimes already.

Poking her head outside, she noted a trendy Southwestern restaurant a few steps down the street, a smoke shop, a fancy children’s boutique and a little café with tables set for two outside the entrance. Warmth filled her chest and she whispered, “This is home now.”

Yesterday, Tagg and Callie had insisted on picking her up from the airport and had driven her to her new apartment. Callie must have offered a dozen times for Sammie to stay with them at Worth Ranch, but Sammie would never impose on them. Callie was eight months pregnant and the expectant couple deserved to enjoy this very special time in their lives without a houseguest.

Upon Jackson’s recommendation, Sammie had used an online service to find a furnished rental in a Spanish-style building with adobe archways and a red stone tiled garden patio. She’d sold everything she’d owned in Boston in a symbolic act meant to add closure to her old life. Only a few special pieces were salvaged from her father’s meager estate. She’d placed in storage her father’s favorite lounge chair, an antique grandfather clock that cuckooed on the hour and a few other items she couldn’t bear to part with belonging to her parents.

“Welcome to Arizona, neighbor.” She jumped at the sound and turned to find a man wearing a chef’s apron approaching from the café. His broad smile creased the perfect planes of his olive-toned face. His voice held the slightest hint of a Spanish accent as each word was enunciated with emphasis when he spoke.

He came to stand before her and stretched out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sonny Estes. I own Sonny Side Up Café.”

“Hello. I’m Sammie Gold. Great name, by the way.” She slipped her hand in his grasp and he gave it one distinct shake, before releasing her. “Sonny Side Up, I mean. I noticed your storefront this morning.”

“Thanks. You’re putting a boot store in here, correct?”

Surprised, she inclined her head a little with curiosity. “That’s right. How’d you know?”

“Jack’s a friend of mine. And my landlord, but I forget that on occasion. Like when I crush him on the court.”

She blinked and tried to picture the GQ cowboy in white shorts. “Tennis?”

His eyes crinkled with amusement. “No, no. Basketball.”

“Oh.” That made more sense to her for some reason.

“He told me you’d be coming by to see the place.” He peered over her shoulder at the empty shop behind. “What do you think?”

“It’s great. I mean it will be once I get my merchandise in here. I’ve got a pretty good idea already how I want this place to look.”

“The location can’t be beat. We get our share of local shoppers, but we also do well with tourists. Scottsdale is the Beverly Hills of Arizona.

She smiled. She’d heard that before. “All the better then.”

“I’m glad Worth finally filled this spot. Not good for business, you know, to have empty shops on the boulevard.”

“That’s true.”

“Stop by the café sometime and I’ll buy you a meal.” He winked and started walking backward. “I must get back to the kitchen. We usually pack the house at lunchtime.”

Sammie waved goodbye to him and returned to the empty store, walking toward a back room that would serve as her office. She sat down on a neon green children’s chair that was left behind, she presumed, when the space was called Kyra’s Korner, a playland venue for small children. Jackson said the idea of an indoor babysitting activity center was sound, but it hadn’t been situated in the right location. He had more faith in Boot Barrage.

The thought made her smile. Jackson liked boots. On women. Oh, who was she kidding? Jackson simply liked women, period. And they liked him back.

She leaned forward in the teensy seat, trying to forget about her little rendezvous with him in Vegas. The more she thought about it, the more she was glad she couldn’t remember much of the night she spent in his bed. You can’t long for what you can’t remember. So, it was a good thing her memory of that night was virtually nonexistent.

The back door opened with a yawning sound and she spun her head to find Jackson stepping over the threshold. He bolted the door shut behind him and approached her with a laid-back smile. “Hey, Sammie.”

“Oh, hi.” She wished her breath wouldn’t catch every time she set eyes on him. He was beautiful, no matter what expression he had on his face or what clothes he wore on his body, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Today he had on jeans and a black jacket over a white cotton shirt. His hair, thick and rich as dark wheat, was covered with a tan felt hat. His eyes held a perpetual hint of mischief and were aimed at her calf-length boots.

He studied them, his eyes raking over the soft mocha leather straps and silver studs. She had her jeans tucked into them today, making her feel more like a Southwest woman than a Boston greenhorn.

He met her gaze. “Nice.”

Self-conscious and a little flustered, she rose from the table to face him. “Thanks. I’m a walking advertisement for my boots.”

“Who wouldn’t stop to admire … them,” he asked as his gaze flowed over her legs, moved higher to touch on her breasts and then finally landed on her eyes.

Rattled, Sammie stammered, “I—I uh, didn’t expect you this morning.”

“It’s almost lunchtime.”

She shrugged. She wouldn’t argue semantics with him. “Oh, I guess it is. I’ve been busy and didn’t realize the time.”

“Busy? Doing what?” Jackson scanned the room. “The place is empty.”

“I know. I’ve been busy thinking… about what it’ll look like when it’s not empty.”

“Can you put those thoughts down on paper?”

“I already have. I’ve worked on a draft. It’s at my apartment.”

“I’d like to see it, darlin’.”

Sammie balked. “My apartment?”

“That too,but we have that dang pact, remember?”

How could she forget?

“I’m talking about the drafts. I’ve got a crew lined up to build the shelves and counter space and whatever else you decide you want. But I’d like to see your ideas first and go over them. Sound fair?”

Sammie had to get her head in the game. Jackson, obviously, didn’t have a problem being around her, even if he teased her a bit, so she had to stop thinking of him as anything other than her very smart, very business-minded partner. “Yes, that sounds fair. I guess I didn’t think you’d have much time to devote to Boot Barrage.”

Jackson tipped his hat farther back on his head. “Seeing one of my enterprises get off to a good start is always smart business, Sammie. I invest not only my money, but also my time and ideas. So how about we shoot by your apartment, pick up your drafts and then discuss them over lunch?”

Lunch? With Jackson? She supposed there was no getting around spending time with him. He was successful and if he could show her how to make a go of her business in Scottsdale, she should be grateful. “Sure.”

“One more thing,” he said, taking her hand. The connection shot a jolt of heat straight through her system. He tugged her out the back door and into the parking lot. When she stared at him in question, he said with a dimpled smile, “This is for you.”

“I’ve never driven an SUV before.” With trepidation, Sammie sat behind the wheel of the Lincoln Navigator and coasted along the streets of Scottsdale. The new-car scent from the tan leather upholstery filled her nostrils as the shiny dashboard controls twinkled in the early afternoon sun. Everything surrounding her was rich and luxurious, including the man sitting in the passenger seat beside her.

“You’re doing fine, Sammie,” Jackson said nonchalantly, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The Navigator was the biggest car she’d ever driven. “You needed something with good storage space in back for boxes and samples. I figured a truck would be pushing it.”

She gave him a sideways glance. “You figured right. Driving a truck would give me hives.”

“It’s not as hard as it looks.”

“No, it’s probably harder.” She concentrated on the road and the newness of the controls. “I bet you’ve been driving your daddy’s pickup truck since you were fifteen.”

Jackson snickered. “More like thirteen, darlin’. My daddy didn’t have a problem with his kids driving on their own property. He taught us the basics and let us have at it.”

“It’s a great car, Jackson.” Sammie had to swallow past the lump in her throat. She’d been floored when Jackson told her the car was hers. She was overcome with gratitude but felt a little guilty; she doubted that Jackson was in the habit of giving cars to his business partners. He was doing a favor for Callie and Sammie was reaping the benefits. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, but at the same time, it made her all the more determined to make their business a success. Jackson’s generosity wasn’t something to sneeze it. “Tell me it’s a business expense.”

“It’s yours. But on paper it’s the Boot Barrage company car.”

That rationale made her feel a little better. “Okay. I’ll take good care of it.”

They stopped by her apartment first, Jackson insisting on seeing the place. The set of his jaw and his reassuring look were enough to persuade her it wouldn’t be a problem. It wasn’t as if he was irresistibly drawn to her or anything. They could keep their hands off each other.

“I like it,” he said, perusing the living space in the apartment. “Even if it’s a snug fit.”

She glanced at his jeans. They were a snug fit, but the apartment was adequate for her with two bedrooms, a living area and an efficient kitchen’s worth of charm. “It’s more than enough for me.”

Sammie wouldn’t show him the bedrooms but he took it upon himself to walk down the hallway and poke his head into both rooms anyway. Then, as she stood in the middle of the living room with the draft store plans in hand, he sauntered back over to her. “It has potential.”

“It’s a mess right now.” Boxes of her clothes cluttered the floor at her feet. Photo frames and a set of dishes were stacked haphazardly on the kitchen counter. “I had a few things shipped from back East, but I’m mostly starting from scratch.”

“You have a bed.”

“Necessity of life, isn’t it?”

“You got that right.” His blue eyes darkened as he looked at her, and Sammie reminded herself that Jackson was a player. Flirting and teasing women were as natural to him as breathing. He wasn’t a jerk about it either. He was a man who genuinely loved being with women. She couldn’t fault him his killer looks and compelling charm.

Don’t take him seriously, and you’ll do fine, Sammie.

He bent down to flip open one box lid and raised his brows. “And boots.”

She’d packed three large boxes of her own boots. “Another necessity of life.”

He grinned. “Let’s hope the women of Scottsale agree with you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

With a hand firmly on her back, Jackson led her toward the door. Before she locked up, Sammie glanced around at the textured walls and high arched doorways that accented the Southwestern flavor of the place and sighed.

“It’ll feel like home before you know it,” Jackson said, as if reading her mind.

This adventure was so new to her. She’d packed up her Boston apartment, leaving what was familiar to her completely behind. When she thought of it that way, shivers of apprehension rode up and down her spine. After all, she was an only child who’d lost her father and her business in the blink of an eye.

Now she fended off a full-fledged panic attack. She didn’t want Jackson to see her moment of weakness. She’d moved three thousand miles away to a city with no coastline. It was a place foreign to her in most respects. But then, she thought about her best friend, Callie, and the rest of the Worths. They were her family now, Jackson included, and that notion made the knots in her stomach loosen. She bucked up her courage, giving herself a mental pep talk. She could do this and she would be successful. She smiled at Jackson as she turned the key in the lock. “I think so, too.”

Jackson walked Sammie to her car, and juicy peaches sprang to mind. He figured since peach trees didn’t grow in the desert, the sweet fragrance had to be coming from Sammie. “You smell delicious.”

“It’s my hand lotion. I put some on while we were in the apartment. It’s kind of strong. If I’m making you hungry, I’m sorry.”

There was hunger, and then there was hunger. Jackson glanced at the boots that hugged her calves. Even in a pair of jeans, with no leg showing, she turned him on. It was a damn shame.

Sammie was off-limits.

“Good thing we’re going to lunch. I might have me some peach pie for dessert.”

And it was a good thing he’d begun thinking straight again. He should have never laid a hand on Sammie. He’d been through the reasons in his mind a hundred times and had finally come to the conclusion that it wasn’t only her boots that had appealed to him.

Right before she’d walked into that bar in Vegas, he’d learned that Blair Caulfield was coming back to Red Ridge. Beautiful, rich, deceitful Blair Caulfield, the girl he’d once loved, was on her way to her hometown to cause havoc in the guise of tending to her ailing Aunt Muriel.

Jackson wanted to think he was over her, but one minute he was on the phone hearing the news of her return from a close friend and the next minute he was finding solace in the arms of the unsuspecting Sammie Gold.

In a way, Sammie had been just what he’d needed that night. To make him forget Blair and the heartache she’d caused him.

By the time Sammie had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him, it was all the encouragement he’d needed. And making love to Sammie had been hot. But his lust for her had shocked him back to his senses the following morning. He’d had to do the right thing and set some boundaries.

“You’re driving this time.” Sammie’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Before he could argue she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up. She added, “I can get a better feel for the lay of the land this way. Without having to concentrate on the road.”

She had a point. Jackson accepted her decision and settled behind the wheel. Sammie had been through a lot lately and she was trying to cope with all the changes in her life. He couldn’t blame her for being gun-shy of driving in a town she didn’t know in a powerhouse of a new car.

He set the drafts in her lap and started the engine. At least driving would keep his eyes on the road and not on her. When she had driven the Navigator earlier, he’d had freedom enough to look his fill. She was cute, with a slender frame and a pleasant face dotted with a few freckles across the bridge of her nose that she tried to cover up with makeup. But she wasn’t even close to the kind of woman who usually attracted him. So why, he asked himself, was he drawn to her? “Do you like hot and spicy?” he asked.

Sammie stammered, “I, uh …” Then she turned in the seat to face him, her body at an angle and both brows digging into her forehead. “What exactly do you mean?”

Jackson grinned. He added innocence to her list of attributes. “Food, Sammie. I’m talking Cajun. There’s this great place just outside of town.”

“Oh.” She was so dang relieved she might have melted into the upholstery as she sank back down in her seat. “That sounds fine.”

It was refreshing to be with a guileless woman for a change, Jackson thought. Someone whose expression told you exactly what she was thinking. She wasn’t coy or pretentious. It was a rare thing.

An hour later, Jackson spread out Sammie’s drafts for Boot Barrage on the cleared restaurant table. They’d eaten chicken and rice and now sat beside each other sipping iced tea.

Sammie took a big gulp of hers. “Wow, my mouth’s on fire.”

“I thought you liked Cajun food.”

Sammie gave him a sheepish look. “I’ve never tried it before. I’m not into spicy.”

“Is that a fact,” Jackson remarked, not allowing his mind to go wicked. “Why’d you agree to it then?”

She stared into his eyes. “I figured this is my year for firsts.”

Her gaze darted to his mouth and lingered long enough to make his groin tighten. The sweet smell of peaches drifted to his nose again. “I mean … I don’t usually venture too far from my comfort zone,” she said.

“You don’t?”

“No. My tastes aren’t very adventurous.”

“Maybe you should change that.”

She shook her head and her short hair moved and then fell right back into place again. “There are enough changes in my life right now.”

Jackson swallowed the last of his tea. “Are we still talking food here?”

Sammie hesitated, then lifted tentative eyes his way. “Uh, just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl … who experiments with food … just because it’s available.”

No. She wasn’t talking about food. “I knew that about you.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’d try Cajun again … just for the record. Though, it’s pretty on the plate and all.”

Jackson hid a smile. They’d already decided this in Las Vegas. They had agreed not to sleep together again, but apparently Sammie had more to say on the subject. “Okay, no more Cajun food for you.”

She smiled with relief and Jackson pointed to the paper laid out on the table, returning to the business at hand. “Now, about your designs …”

The next few days flew by. Sammie was busier than she’d been in her entire life. She’d made calls to her private boot venders and haggled over prices, set up a whole new Excel spreadsheet for taking inventory, ordered window dressings for the shop and interviewed for part-time help. At night she’d unpack her belongings at her apartment, do laundry and make herself a salad before collapsing into bed.

She’d been in touch with Jackson every day. He didn’t disappoint on the business end of things. He wasn’t lying about helping her get the new enterprise off the ground. What they needed was a good start and Jackson knew some tricks of the trade. He’d stopped by her apartment once to check on her progress, and this morning he’d beaten her in getting to the shop. She saw his king-cab Ford truck as she pulled into the small parking lot behind Boot Barrage.

She opened the back door and walked in on him as he measured a wall with a thick chrome tape measure. His back was to her and he didn’t bother turning around. “Mornin’,” he said over his shoulder. “The crew will be here in a few minutes. Thought I’d speak with the contractor before he gets started in here.”

“Good morning,” she said quietly. She closed the door behind her and tried not to gape at Jackson. He wore a snug cotton T-shirt that hugged his shoulders and a pair of faded blue jeans tight enough for images to flash through her mind of how good he’d looked in the raw.

He also had a leather tool belt wrapped around his waist.

A tool belt.Really?

Sammie held back a sigh. Every time she saw him, she fell a little more in lust with him. But that was only because he was beautiful. Eye candy. A hunk.

“Okay, that’s great. I can’t wait until they get started on this place.”

Jackson grunted in agreement and then went back to jotting down figures on a clipboard. He had arranged for a desk and chair from one of his offices to be delivered the other day. She’d set up her laptop on it and had worked here whenever she could.

“You coming to Callie and Tagg’s for dinner tonight?” he asked, still concentrating on the figures he jotted down.

Her dear friend Callie had been patient with her. She’d invited her over every night this week, but Sammie had been too busy. She’d promised her that tonight would be the night—she’d missed her friend and they were both anxious to spend time together—but Sammie hadn’t known that Jackson was invited, too.

“Yes, I’m going.”

“No sense in both of us driving out there in separate cars,” he said, studying another wall he was measuring. “I’ll drive you to Red Ridge.”

“Oh, no. That’s not nec—”

Jackson turned to her and a jolt of new desire paraded through her stomach. He was every woman’s fantasy, a blond-haired, blue-eyed tool-belt-wearing hunk of a man. Sammie had always prided herself on not being a shallow female until she’d met Jackson Worth. He was in a class all by himself as far as she was concerned. But she’d reminded herself a hundred times that business and pleasure didn’t mix. Especially not for her.

Her creep of an ex-boyfriend, Allen Marksom, had driven that point home.

“Oh,” she said, quickly realizing her mistake. “Callie asked you to drive me there.”

“Carpooling saves the environment.”

“Callie worries about me too much.”

“She’s your friend.”

“But still, if you were only going on my account, you don’t—”

“Two things, Sammie,” he said in a serious tone. “I like spending time with my family. And I don’t argue with pregnant ladies.” He sent her a quick nod. “Just so you know.”

She nodded back. “Got it.”

When the crew showed up for work, she and Jackson went over the plans to make sure they were all on the same page. Excited, Sammie’s mental picture of Boot Barrage was finally coming to fruition.

Her boot boutique would be unique, not only because of the exquisite boots she’d be selling, but also because she’d give them her personal touch and a guarantee of repair, restoration and quality. She’d been given a lifetime’s worth of instruction by a high-end designer as to how to properly maintain and treat the boots to give them the longest life.

Each and every boot would come with the Gold Guarantee and that would be her selling point. Her own boots were testimony to personal care and longevity. She’d make sure her customers got the same level of quality.

“Once we get started you won’t be able to come in here,” the head contractor, Justin Cervantes, said. “Safety reasons.”

Jackson nodded. “We figured as much. Not a problem.”

“How long before we’ll be able to get back in, exactly?” Sammie asked.

Mr. Cervantes scanned the space, doing mental calculations. “We’ve got to texture the walls, build the shelving, put in the counters and paint. Mr. Worth wants it done quickly. If we work steady through the weekend, I’d say not until midweek. That’s as quick as we can do it.” He sent a solid look to Jackson. “I’ll be in touch every day.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jackson said.

His cell phone rang. He took a quick look at the screen and then excused himself to deal with the call.

Sammie finished the conversation with the contractor, thanking him and giving him her phone number also in case he had any questions about design. Exhilaration stirred in her belly. This was really happening. She’d have a new place, one that was infused with enough cash to give the establishment a good start. She was getting a second chance, doing something she loved to do. Back in Boston she’d had a little hole-in-the-wall boutique, hardly any space at all, yet she’d made a decent living and enjoyed some success. This space was three times the size. It would be luxurious and comfortable for her and her clients. She planned on spending most of her time here. Diving into her work with guns blazing would never be an issue.

When Jackson finished with his call, he motioned for Sammie to meet him in the back room. The space would serve as her office and a lounge for her employees, and behind that area a stockroom would be built to house the inventory.

“What’s up?” she said.

“That was my brother Clay. He’s inviting us to a little show they’re having at Penny’s Song tomorrow night. Since we’re both coming out to the ranch, he suggested that we stay with them for the weekend.”

Penny’s Song was a dude ranch on the Worth property designed for children recovering from illness. Sammie had been there once, when Callie had married Tagg. The charity helped provide children an easy way to acclimate back into society. Young Penny Martin, a local Red Ridge resident, had been the inspiration, and upon her death, all three Worth brothers had helped in starting up the foundation. The charity had touched the heart and soul of the entire town.

But the invitation to stay out at the ranch with Jackson brought a wave of fear to her heart. She’d hoped to keep as much distance from him as possible and it appeared that she was losing that battle.

A wealth of guilt glided through her mind. She hadn’t out and out lied to Callie about her time spent with Jackson in Las Vegas, but when they’d talked, she’d skirted the issue and hid the truth from her. Something she’d never done before. Just being in the same room with Jackson and Callie would fray her nerves. She wasn’t looking forward to it.

“I’m sure you’ve got plans for Saturday night.” Sammie could only hope.

Jackson shook his head and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Actually, I’m open.”

Great.

Why in heaven’s name didn’t he have a date or something?

Her cell phone rang this time. And she didn’t have to look at the screen to know it was Callie. Small-town life was like that, she was finding out, and news traveled fast, especially in a close-knit family. Sammie knew exactly what Callie would say.

“You’ll stay with us,” Callie said a few seconds into the conversation, proving Sammie right. “At our house, and Jackson will stay with Clay.”

“Callie, I love you dearly, but I don’t want to impose on you and Tagg.”

“You’re not. I’d love some female company up here.”

Tagg and Callie’s house was set at the base of the Red Ridge mountains on the site of the original Worth house built in the 1800s. Clay and his family lived on a bigger piece of land that supported the cattle, corrals and outer buildings. All of it was considered Worth property. Tagg raised horses, and Clay raised cattle. And Jackson was the dealmaker and entrepreneur of the family.

“You’ll stay the weekend. Come on … say you will. Please.”

“Okay,” Sammie said without pause. She couldn’t disappoint her best friend. She’d just have to find a way to deal with being around Jackson twenty-four-seven.

Sammie had met steeper challenges before.

Though, for the life of her now she couldn’t recall a single one.