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the night alternating between disturbingly erotic dreams and nervous wakefulness. This morning while she showered, she'd been forced to give herself a stern lecture. It wouldn't do any good to tell herself that Bobby Tom wasn't the handsomest, sexiest, and most exciting man she'd ever met, because he was. That made it even more important to remember that his blue eyes, lazy charm, and relentless affability hid a dangerous combination of a monstrous ego and a keen mind. She was going to have to stay on her toes.
    Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of an antique red Thunderbird convertible backing down the drive. Having anticipated exactly this sort of treachery, she flipped the key in the ignition, pushed hard on the accelerator, and shot forward to block the way with her rental car. After she turned off the engine, she scooped up her purse and got out.
    The ignition keys jingled in the pocket of her latest fashion mistake, an oversize mustard-colored wrap dress that she had hoped would look crisp and professional, but merely looked dowdy and middle-aged. The heels of Bobby Tom's cowboy boots clicked on the drive as he came toward her, the barest hint of a limp in his walk. Nervously, she studied his outfit. His silk shirt, imprinted with purple palm trees, was tucked into a pair of perfectly faded and impeccably frayed jeans that molded to his narrow hips and lean runner's legs in a manner that made it nearly impossible for her to draw her eyes away from parts of him she'd be better off not looking at.
    She braced herself as he tipped his pearl gray Stetson. “Mornin', Miz Gracie.”
    “Good morning,” she said briskly. “I didn't expect you to be up so early after last night.” Several seconds ticked by as he gazed at her. Although his eyes were half-lidded, she detected an intensity beneath that indolence that made her wary.
    “You weren't supposed to be here till eleven,” he said.
    “Yes, well, I'm early.”
    “I can see that, and I sure would appreciate it if you'd back your car out of my way.” His lazy drawl was at odds with the faint tightening at the corners of his lips.
    “I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I'm here to escort you to Telarosa.”
    “I don't mean to be impolite, sweetheart, but the fact is, I don't need a bodyguard.”
    “I'm not a bodyguard. I'm an escort.”
    “Whatever you are, I'd like you to move your car.”
    “I understand that, but if I don't have you in Telarosa by Monday morning, I'm fairly certain I'll be fired, so I really must be firm about this.”
    He rested one hand on his hip. “I see your point, so I'm gonna give you a thousand dollars to drive away and not come back.”
    Gracie stared at him.
    “Let's make that fifteen hundred for the inconvenience.”
    She'd always assumed people knew, just by looking at her, that she was an honorable person, and the idea that he could believe her capable of accepting a bribe offended her far more than being mistaken for a stripper.
    “I don't do things like that,” she said slowly.
    He emitted a lengthy sigh of regret. “I'm real sorry you feel that way because, whether you take my money or not, I'm afraid I'm not going to be on that plane with you this afternoon.”
    “Are you telling me you're going to break your contract?”
    “No. I'm just tellin' you that I'll be getting to Telarosa all by myself.”
    She didn't believe him. “You signed that contract of your own free will. Not only do you have a legal obligation to fulfill it, but you also have a moral obligation.”
    “Miz Gracie, you sound just like a Sunday School teacher.”
    Her eyes dropped.
    He gave a bark of laughter and shook his head. “It's true. Bobby Tom Denton's bodyguard is a damn Sunday School teacher.”
    “I told you I'm not your bodyguard. I'm simply your escort.”
    “I'm afraid you're going to have to find somebody else to escort, then, because I've decided to drive to Telarosa instead of fly, and I know for a fact that a fine lady like