Tempted by a Cowboy Read online

  She shook her head. “I came by myself.”

  “Then let’s start with the police. Did you get a look at those old boys?”

  “Not really.”

  “Never mind. I did.” He punched in a number and spoke in French.

  Melanie listened with great admiration. He no longer sounded like a Texan as he carried on a conversation without stumbling. Prior to this trip she’d enrolled in an online course and had learned enough to find a bathroom and order a meal. But this guy was fluent, which was her good luck.

  If she was super lucky, he had an international plan and she’d be able to borrow his phone to call Val, who could help her straighten things out with the credit card companies. Maybe it was cheeky to ask, but she was in desperate circumstances.

  Although he was dressed casually, his jacket looked expensive and his watch might even be a real Rolex. Judging from his ease with the language, he could be a businessman who traveled to Paris regularly. If so, he wouldn’t mind loaning her his phone for two minutes.

  He disconnected the call and tucked the phone inside his jacket. “They’re sending someone over, so we need to stay put.” He gestured toward a stone bench a few feet away. “Let’s sit a spell.” He was once again her guy from Texas.

  “Sounds good.” She wouldn’t mind sitting down. She felt a little shaky. “I’m afraid I’ve ruined your plans for this morning.”

  “No, ma’am, you certainly haven’t.” He waited until she sat down before joining her on the bench. “You’re the one with ruined plans. When did you get here?”

  “This morning.”

  He swore softly under his breath. “I figured that might be the situation when I saw you eyeballing Notre Dame as if you’d never seen it before.”

  “I hadn’t, except in pictures.” Then she realized the significance of his statement. He’d noticed her before the mugging. “Did I stick out that much?”

  He smiled. “Let’s just say I pegged you as an American.”

  “How?” She liked the way he’d managed to smile without appearing to patronize her. And he had a great smile, one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle just enough to add character. As the shock of being mugged wore off, she registered the fact that her rescuer was drop-dead gorgeous.

  “White gym shoes, for one thing. French women don’t usually wear gym shoes unless they’re working up a sweat. But the whole getup—the jeans, the hoodie, the backpack—told me you were from the States, probably a new arrival.”

  She grimaced. “I’ll bet the muggers figured that out, too.”

  “They might have.” He held out his hand. “I’m Drew Eldridge, by the way.”

  Eldridge. She’d heard that name, and she thought it might have been from Astrid, whose family was rich. Did that mean her Texan was wearing a real Rolex? His handshake was warm, firm, and gave her goose bumps. She was really sorry when the handshake was over. “I’m Melanie Shaw.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Melanie. I wish it had been under different circumstances.”

  “Me, too.” If he was related to the Eldridge family Astrid knew, Melanie wouldn’t have been likely to meet him under any circumstances, unless she was with Astrid, who moved in those circles. “Are you from Dallas?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then you might know a friend of mine, Astrid Lindberg.”

  “Astrid Lindberg.” He chuckled. “I haven’t seen her in a coon’s age. We were at the same equestrian camp one summer, although she was with the younger kids. Some old horse tried to run off with her and I was handy. I was worried she’d swear off riding, but she didn’t.”

  “She sure didn’t.” Melanie noticed that although Drew had come to Astrid’s rescue, he’d downplayed his role by saying he was handy. “She’s a large animal vet, now.”

  “Is she? That’s great.”

  “So are you here on business?” Melanie imagined multi-national deals involving millions. From what she could recall, the Eldridge family was loaded.

  “Some business. Some pleasure.”

  “Ah.” So the multi-national deal-making was followed by glittering parties and sophisticated French women who never wore gym shoes with their regular clothes. Yet he’d interrupted all that to help a stranger from home. “Listen, I really appreciate all you’ve done. I’m sure I’ve screwed up your morning and you’re too polite to say so.”

  “Nope. It’s a sunny day and I’d decided to—” A soft chime interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. “Excuse me.” Taking out his phone, he glanced at the readout. “I should take this.” He stood and walked a few feet away.

  Hanging out with such a good-looking guy was a heady experience that kept her adrenaline pumping, so she was relieved for a few moments alone to gather her thoughts. If not for her friendship with Astrid, she might have been intimidated by someone like Drew Eldridge. As it was, she was simply grateful. And a little turned on, which served as a great antidote to worrying about losing her stuff.

  Having Drew show up was a stroke of luck. Someone with his wealth would have an international calling plan. If she didn’t pay him back until she got home, he probably wouldn’t care. Once he was off the phone, she would ask to make a call. Val had a key to her apartment and could retrieve her credit card information.

  The police arrived right after Drew ended his call, so she didn’t have a chance to borrow the phone. Thank God Drew was there to guide her through the process, though. After the officers left, she glanced up at him. “Do you think they’ll recover my backpack?”

  “There’s always a chance.”

  “But not a very good one, right?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Melanie. They may find your backpack, although I figure it’s in a dumpster by now. But the contents . . .” He shrugged. “Not likely.”

  “Speaking of those contents, could I please borrow your phone to call my friend Valerie back home? She can access my credit card info so I can cancel my cards.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you sure can. Tell you what. I’ll give you a lift back to your hotel so you can doctor those hands. You can call your friend on the way there.”

  “You have a car?”

  “I do.”

  Silly of her to think he’d be on foot, like she was. “You know, that’s a lovely offer but my hotel isn’t very far away.” That wasn’t quite true. She’d walked at least ten blocks to get here. “I’ll just borrow your phone for a minute. I’ve taken up too much of your valuable time already.”

  “Sorry, but my mama raised me better than that. You’ve suffered a shock, and I intend to see you safely back to your hotel.”

  Oh, wow. He not only looked like a god, he knew the right things to say that would make a girl melt into a puddle. She’d be a fool to resist a display of gentlemanly manners by a heroic figure like Drew, especially when she’d just been mugged by two guys from the shallow end of the gene pool.

  Read on for a preview of the final installment in Vicki Lewis Thompson’s Perfect Man trilogy

  SAFE IN HIS ARMS

  Available from InterMix July 2013

  One minute Valerie Wolitzky was drinking margaritas with her two pals, Astrid Lindberg and Melanie Shaw, in their favorite Dallas watering hole, the Golden Spurs and Stetsons. The next minute an alarm shrieked, and Val leaped from her seat, knocking over her chair and her drink. She had to get out. Now.

  Panic buzzed in her ears as she charged the front door. She had to beat the mob of people. If she didn’t, she’d be trapped . . . just like before.

  Wham! She hit a solid wall of muscle and staggered back. A cowboy blocked her way. She shoved him hard. “Let me out!”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Hold on, there, ma’am. What’s the problem?”

  Was he an idiot? With adrenaline-fueled strength, she pushed him aside and barreled through the door, almost knocking down a second man who was right behind him. But she got out the door.

  Safe! She was safe! Shaking, she leaned over and braced her hands on he
r knees as she gulped for air. The warm breeze of a summer night touched her wet cheeks. She swiped at them as she slowly straightened. She needed to sit down, but there was nowhere to—

  “Val!” Astrid’s shout penetrated the buzzing in her ears, and she turned. Her two friends burst through the door of the bar and rushed toward her.

  Relief that they were okay was followed by hot shame. She hadn’t thought of them, hadn’t even tried to save them. She’d only thought of herself.

  “Omigod, Val.” Melanie, brown hair flying, reached her first and hugged her. “It’s okay. Some smoking oil set off the smoke detector in the kitchen. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

  Filled with gratitude for her friend’s safety, Val hugged her back without paying much attention to what she was saying.

  Astrid joined the huddle and rubbed Val’s back. “Easy, girlfriend. Take it easy. Everything’s fine.”

  Gradually Valerie’s heartbeat slowed, and the grip of fear eased. She took a quivering breath and wondered why she wasn’t hearing sirens. She stepped out of Melanie’s embrace and looked around. “Where are the fire trucks?”

  “There’s no fire.” Astrid continued to stroke her back. “Just a little smoke.”

  “Did they evacuate the building?”

  “No, sweetie.” Melanie gazed at her with compassion. “They shut off the alarm right away and came out of the kitchen to explain the problem.”

  Valerie’s heart started pounding again. Dear God. “I was . . . the only one who ran out?”

  Both Melanie and Astrid nodded.

  “Well, except us,” Melanie added. “We took off after you.”

  “Oh, no.” Val covered her face as embarrassment flooded through her, scorching her cheeks. She’d overreacted. Caused a scene. Involved her friends in her craziness. Slowly she lowered her hands and stared at them in misery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Astrid squeezed her arm. “But Val, it’s time to get serious about—”

  “Ma’am? Are you all right?” The cowboy Valerie had smacked into when she fled now walked over to her, trailed by the other guy, who wore a business suit. They both looked worried.

  Val thought of the old cliché and wished the sidewalk really would open up and swallow her. “Yes, thank you.” She wished the words didn’t sound so wobbly and uncertain.

  “You don’t look all right.” The cowboy kept coming. He had a purposeful, John Wayne stride, and he towered over the other man. “You’re shaking like a newborn foal. What happened in there?”

  Melanie put a protective arm around Val’s shoulder. “Thanks for your concern, but she’ll be fine.”

  He paused and tipped his Stetson back with his thumb. “I’m sure she will. I just . . . was it the smoke alarm that spooked you? I heard it go off right before I got to the door.”

  He seemed like a nice guy who only wanted to help. Val couldn’t fault him for that after she’d tried to knock him down in her full-out panic mode. He must have seen the terror in her eyes. “I’m afraid I overreacted.” She cleared her throat and summoned her lawyer’s voice. “I apologize for plowing into you and yelling. That was rude.”

  “No worries.” He glanced at Astrid and Melanie standing on either side of her. “I’m glad your friends are here.” He hesitated before bringing his attention back to Val.

  His eyes were gray. Not a gloomy, dark sort of gray, but light, almost silver. They shone with kindness. “Listen, I don’t know you at all, and I’m probably butting in where I have no business, but I understand a little something about post-traumatic stress.” He turned to the man who’d come up behind him. “And my buddy Will wrote the book on it. Literally.” He looked at Val again. “If you need—”

  “To see someone?” She managed not to choke on the words. “I appreciate the thought, but I have that covered.” She had nothing covered because she was determined to handle the issue herself, despite what her friends thought she should do. But he didn’t have to know any of that.

  “Good. That’s good. But if you need a second opinion, I highly recommend Will. Say, Will, you have any cards with you?”

  “I think so.” The man reached inside his suit jacket. “Yep. Here’s one.”

  Val stepped back, away from the outstretched business card. If she ever decided to go that route, she’d find her own shrink. Locating the right person would require lots of research. A chance meeting on the sidewalk didn’t qualify as an intelligent method for hiring a professional therapist. “Thanks, but I—”

  “I’ll take it.” Astrid reached for the card. She looked at the name printed there before tucking the card in her jeans pocket. Then she exchanged a glance with the cowboy.

  Val figured that the wordless message between Astrid and the cowboy was along the lines of I can handle it from here.

  As if to confirm that, the cowboy touched the brim of his hat, a classic farewell gesture. “We’ve kept you ladies long enough. I’m glad you’re all right, ma’am. You three have a nice evening.” Both men turned and headed back toward the bar.

  Val swung to face Astrid. “I know what you’re up to, but I’m not making an appointment with some guy I met on the street.”

  “Oh, yes, you are.” Astrid’s blue eyes flashed with determination. She was small and blonde, but anyone who underestimated her because of that would be making a huge mistake. “He’s not just some guy. He’s Will Bryan, who’s appeared on lots of talk shows because of his book on PTSD. I’ve seen him on TV, but somehow I missed the fact he’s from Dallas.”

  “So he’s famous? Then I’ll bet he’s booked solid.” That should take care of that.

  Melanie spoke up. “If he’s booked solid, he would have said so instead of handing over his card. Anyway, that cowboy seems to be his good friend, and he suggested you contact this Will guy. If you mention to Will that you were the tall redhead he met outside the Golden Spurs and Stetson, I’m sure he’ll work you in.”

  “Yeah, and charge me a million bucks now that he’s so well known.” Another excellent reason why she wouldn’t be calling him.

  Astrid’s jaw firmed. “Being prominent doesn’t necessarily mean he charges more than anyone else. And if his fee is really high, then I’ll—”

  “No, you won’t, Astrid Lindberg. I’ve never taken money from you, and I won’t start now.” Val, Astrid and Melanie had been sorority sisters. Fortunately Astrid’s wealthy background hadn’t been a barrier to their friendship, even though Melanie and Val had scraped through school with scholarships and student loans and Astrid had sailed along on her parents’ considerable money.

  “You can pay me back later.”

  “No.” Val shook her head. “Look, I don’t need a celebrity therapist.”

  “Maybe not, but you need a therapist, and you’re making no progress toward getting one.” Astrid pulled the card out of her pocket. “It’s been months since the concert hall fire, and you’re not getting better on your own. This guy showing up right when you had a meltdown seems like it was meant to be.”

  Val’s stomach churned. Until that awful night of the fire and the stampede, she’d prided herself on her self-sufficiency and emotional stability. Now she freaked at every little thing. She hated feeling so out of control these days, but the idea of allowing some stranger to probe into her vulnerability made her break out in a cold sweat. “I just need time.”

  “No, you don’t.” Melanie put her arm around Val’s shoulders again, and her grip was tighter than before. Melanie’s curves made her look soft, but she had a backbone of steel. “You’ve had time, and nothing’s changed. This is a fabulous opportunity, and you’re going to see this therapist . . . even if we have to hogtie you and haul you there ourselves.”

  Astrid sighed in obvious relief. “Well said, Melanie. So here’s the deal, Val. We’re your best friends, and we can’t stand by and watch this train wreck any longer. You’ve stopped dating. You’ve turned down a promotion at the law firm. You insist on sittin
g at the table by the front door when we go out anywhere. Enough.”

  Val looked from one determined expression to the other. The thought of doing what her friends demanded scared the shit out of her, but they were right. She was stuck in a prison of her own making. And now she’d dragged them into it. “Okay.” She swallowed. “I’ll do it.”

  * * *

  Nine in the morning, and already the sun felt like a branding iron on Adam Templeton’s shoulders as he walked toward the barn. On most days, heading down to see his horses calmed him, but not this morning. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Will thought it was hysterically funny that Adam was nervous about working with Valerie Wolitzky, especially since Adam had been the one to prompt Will into providing his card outside the Golden Spurs and Stetson. You’ve dealt with battle-scarred soldiers who are a thousand times more traumatized than she is, Will had said. She’ll be a piece of cake compared to them.

  Oh, yeah, she’d be a piece of cake, all right. Sweet and tempting. Of course she could be married or seeing someone. That would help. His divorce from Elise was only fifteen months old, and Adam felt battle-scarred, himself.

  He’d mentioned to Will that all the folks he’d worked with thus far had been men. Will had told him that wouldn’t always be the case. Female soldiers came home with PTSD, too. If Adam was serious about this new direction in his life, he’d need to help women as well as men.

  Well, yeah, point taken. And Adam was serious about this venture. He hadn’t resigned his position as CEO of the family corporation and turned it over to his younger brother so that he could play cowboy as Elise had termed it.

  He’d never enjoyed the corporate world, but for years he’d unquestioningly followed a path laid out by his father and grandfather. A path Elise and her parents had approved of. None of those people could dictate to him now.

  His grandfather and father had both died in their fifties of heart attacks, and Elise had married another billionaire, so even the alimony payments weren’t an issue anymore. He’d taken inventory of his situation and decided he had enough money to last several lifetimes. He had the luxury of doing what he loved.