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mouth on his shirtsleeve. “Changed my mind.”
    She rolled her eyes and grimaced, biting her tongue to keep her criticism to herself.
    â€œWhat? Go ahead and say it, Miss High-and-Mighty. I can see you’re dying to give another lecture. You’re on your own personal crippled-cowboy crusade? I suppose you never drink?”
    â€œNot at ten o’clock in the morning!”
    His brows drew together and his scowl blackened. He advanced on her, taking another swig from his bottle, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve again. He closed in until she was nose to chest with him, caught between him and the bed. He was so close she could smell the beer on his breath.
    Refusing to be chased away, she stood her ground.
    He towered over her with a narrow-eyed glare. “You know, you should’ve been a missionary or something. I can see you now. Marching for prohibition with all the other Miss Priss, goody-two-shoes, dried-up, old spinsters! ”
    Audrey’s stomach heaved, as if someone had socked her. His words echoed in her mind— dried-up, old spinster. It was true. That’s exactly what she was. Refusing to cry, she forgot about holding her temper. “Well, at least I don’t sit around wallowing in self-pity all day!”
    He leaned into her and nuzzled her neck. “You know, I kind of like you all riled up. Your eyes spit fire and your….” He stared blatantly at her chest. “I want you, darlin’.”
    Oh, God. Her nipples peaked of their own accord, as if straining to rub against his chest. Tiny goose bumps rose as his lips nibbled the sensitive skin of her neck. Even with the smell of beer on his breath, she wanted his arms around her and his lips on hers.
    No. This drunk was not the man she’d once thought he was. She pushed against his chest. “Move, and I’ll leave so you can drink yourself into a stupor in peace.”
    He set the bottle on the bedside table and abruptly fell forward, pushing her down with him. Arms straight, he held himself above her, his hands spread flat on the bed. Audrey lay perfectly still, trapped between his strong, flannel-clad arms. His lips parted and hovered just above hers.
    â€œPeace is a pipe dream, baby. I’ll take passion any day.”
    Eyes wide, she reined in the urge to grab a hunk of his hair and pull his mouth down to hers. Despite the long hair and heavy stubble, she kept seeing the handsome, smiling hero from that long-ago night at the rodeo.
    â€œBeautiful green eyes,” he mumbled. “Give me a kiss, baby.” Feverishly, his lips covered hers, moving over her mouth, begging for a response.
    No need to beg. Audrey ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him back with all that was in her.
    He slowly lowered his body, settling onto her chest with a low groan. His tongue slid in, stroking her lips and tongue.
    She shivered and couldn’t hide a little moan of pleasure as his lips traveled down her cheek to nuzzle her neck. The evidence of his desire pushed against her thigh, long and hard. He pushed it against her again, and she realized his hand was sliding under her shirt.
    She must be insane! A minute ago, he’d called her an old spinster. He only wanted her because he was drunk. She recovered her wits and pushed on his shoulders. “No!”
    He rolled away and sat up. “What’s the matter?”
    Audrey bolted off the bed and flew to the other side of the room, breathing hard. She didn’t know which feeling was stronger—humiliation or regret. “You don’t even know me.”
    Grabbing his beer, he took another swig and ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, what’s knowin’ someone got to dowith it? The women who wanted the Lone Cowboy didn’t know me.” He thumped his chest and snarled his famous moniker as if he were speaking of someone else.
    Crossing her arms, she dropped her jaw in disbelief. “That doesn’t mean—