The Texan's One-Night Standoff

One night leads to a pregnancy bombshell! Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands.

Chicago real estate hotshot Brooks Newport is on a quest to find his true father. But tracking him to a small Texas town puts Brooks on a collision course with horse trainer Ruby Lopez. After a no-strings-attached night together, he’s on his way.

When Brooks finally meets the father he never knew, he must come to grips with the past—and the very shocking present. Because Ruby works for the man. And she has a secret of her own—not only is Brooks finding his father, he’s about to become one!

The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series.

His mouth found hers again, and this time the kiss was hot enough to brand cattle.

A fiery mix of passion and lust, making her forget she didn’t kiss strangers like this, on an open dance floor with half the town watching. But Brooks didn’t let up and she couldn’t pull back or move away, it was that good.

She played with the curling ends of his hair.

He slid his hands lower on her back.

She tucked herself into him.

He groaned and kissed her harder.

The music ended and they hardly noticed. She stared into his blue eyes.

“What now?” he rasped. “You want another dance?”

She shook her head. “I need air.”

He took her hand and led her off the dance floor and out the door of the C’mon Inn. They went around back to an iron and wood bench near a walled garden. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, and before she could answer, he took a seat and reached for her, giving her the option of where on the bench she wanted to plop down.

She chose his lap.

* * *

The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is part of the Dynasties: The Newports series— Passion and chaos consume a Chicago real estate empire!

Dear Reader,

I can’t imagine having to search for a long-lost anyone, but real estate mogul and Chicagoan Brooks Newport finally ends his months-long search for his biological father, Beau Preston, in Cool Springs, Texas—aka Small Town, USA. For Brooks it was a labor-intensive, painstaking road to locate his dad after the true circumstances of their separation finally became clear to both father and son.

But for Brooks, their reunion comes with a surprise wrinkle along the way. Ruby Lopez, the Latina spitfire he’d met at the C’mon Inn the night before, is just as happy tossing a man over her petite shoulders as she is training thoroughbreds. Soon, Ruby becomes a temptation, and as off-limits as one woman can get when Brooks discovers her strong ties to the Preston family. Might I add, the raven-haired beauty keeps the wannabe cowboy on the tips of his Justin-booted toes and throws poor Brooks completely off-kilter.

But does she flip him on his backside? You’ll just have to read on to see.

I’m a horse lover by nature, and so researching training techniques and describing the beautifully groomed and modern but rustic Look Away Ranch was a joy for me. Twinkling lights strung across the perimeter, holly wreaths and poinsettias make for a postcard Christmas at Look Away. What could be better than a cowboy in the making, wild stallions, strategically placed mistletoe, surprise presents under the tree and finding true love where you least expect it?

The Texan’s One-Night Standoff is my gift to you.

Happy holidays and happy reading!

Charlene

The Texan’s One-Night Standoff

Charlene Sands

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty romance novels. She writes sensual contemporary romances and stories of the Old West. When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter, write her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA, or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com.

To my very talented editor, Charles Griemsman, who is also a wonderful person and someone I call friend. Thanks, Charles, for all you do!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

Brooks Newport swiveled around on the bar stool at the C’mon Inn, his gaze fastening on the raven-haired Latina beauty bending over a pool table, challenging her opponent with a fiercely competitive glint in her eyes. With blue jeans hugging her hips and a cropped red plaid blouse exposing her olive skin, the lady made his mouth go dry. He wasn’t alone. Every Stetson-wearing Texan in the joint seemed to be watching her, too.

His hand fisting around the bottle, Brooks took a sip of beer, gulping down hard. The woman’s moves around the pool table were as smooth and as polished as his new Justin boots.

“Five ball, corner pocket,” she said, her voice sultry with a side of sass, as if she knew she wasn’t going to miss. Then she took her shot. The cue ball met its mark and sure enough, the five ball rolled right into the pocket.

She straightened to full height, her chest expanding to near button-popping proportions. She couldn’t have been more than five-foot-two, but what she had in that small package was enough to make him break out in a sweat. And that was saying something, since he’d come to Texas for one reason, and one reason only.

To meet his biological father for the first time in his life.

He’d spent the better part of his adulthood trying to find the man who’d abandoned him and his twin brother, Graham in Chicago. Sutton Winchester, his bitter older rival and the man Brooks thought might be his biological father turned out not to be his blood kin after all. Thank God. But Sutton had known the truth of his parenthood all along, and the ailing man, plagued by a bout of conscience—or so Brooks figured—had finally given up the information that led to the name and location of his and Graham’s father.

Brooks would have been speaking with his real father at Look Away Ranch in Cool Springs right now if he hadn’t gotten a bad case of nerves. So much was riding on this. The trek to get to this place in time, to solving the mystery surrounding the birth of the Newport twins, as well as his younger brother Carson, would finally come to fruition.

So, yeah, the powerful CEO of the Newport Corporation from Chicago had turned chicken. Those bawking noises played out in his head. He’d never run scared before and yet, as he was breezing through this dusty town, the Welcome sign and Christmas lights outside the doors of the C’mon Inn had called to him. He’d pulled to a stop and entered the lodge, in need of a fortifying drink and a good night’s rest. He had a lot to think about, and meeting Beau Preston in the light of day seemed a better idea.

He kept his gaze trained on the prettiest thing in the joint. The woman. She wielded the pool cue like a weapon and began wiggling her perfectly trim ass in an effort to make a clean shot. He sipped beer to cool his jets, yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away. He had visions of bending over the pool table with her and bringing them both to heaven.

Long strands of her hair hung down to touch her breasts, and as she leaned over even further to line up her shot, those strands caressed green felt. She announced her next shot and bam, the ball banked off the left side and then ricocheted straight into the center pocket.

The whiskered man she was playing against hung his head. “Man, Ruby. You don’t give a guy a chance.”

She chuckled. “That’s the rule I live by, Stan. You know that.”

“But you could miss once in a while. Make it interesting.”

So her name was Ruby. Brooks liked the sound of it, all right. It fit.

He had no business lusting after her. Woman trouble was the last thing he needed. Yet his brain wasn’t doing a good job of convincing his groin to back off.

The game continued until she handed the older guy his vitals on a silver platter. “Sorry, Stan.”

“You’d think after all these years a man could do better against a teeny tiny woman.”

She grinned, showing off a smile that lit the place on fire, then set a sympathetic hand on the man’s shoulder and reached up to kiss his cheek.

The old guy’s face turned beet red. “You know that’s the only reason I endure this torture. For that kiss at the end.”

Her deep, provocative chuckle rumbled in Brooks’s ears. “You’re sweet for saying that, Stan. Now, go on home to Betsy. And kiss your sweet grandson for me.”

Nodding, Stan smiled at her. “Will do. You be good now, you hear?”

“I can always try,” she said, hooking her cue stick on the wall next to a holly wreath.

Stan walked off, and Ruby did this little number with her head that landed all of her thick, silky hair on one shoulder. Brooks’s groin tightened some more. If she was any indication of what Cool Springs was like, he was quickly gaining an affinity for the place.

The woman spotted him. Her deep-set eyes, the color of dark cocoa, met his for a second, and time seemed to stop. Blood rushed through his veins. She blinked a time or two and then let him go, as if she recognized him to be an out-of-towner.

He finished off his beer and rose, tossing some bills onto the bar and giving the barkeep a nod.

“Hey, sweet doll,” a man called out, coming from the darkest depths of the bar to stand in front of her. “How about giving me a go-round?”

Ruby tilted her head up. “No thanks. I’m through for the night.”

“You ain’t through until you’ve seen me wield my stick. It’s impressive.” The big oaf wiggled his brows and crowded her against the pool table.

She rolled her eyes. “Pleeeze.”

“Yeah, babe, that’s exactly what you’ll be crying out once we’re done playing.”

“Sorry, but if that’s your best come-on line, you’re in sad shape, buster.”

She inched her body away, brushing by him, trying not to make contact with the bruiser. But the jerk grabbed her arm from behind and gave a sharp tug. She struggled to wiggle free. “Let go,” she said.

Brooks scanned the room. All eyes were still on Ruby, but no one was making a move. Instead they all had smug looks on their faces. Forget what he’d thought about this town; they were all jerks.

The muscles in his arms bunched and his hands tightened into fists as Brooks stepped toward the two of them. He couldn’t stand by and watch this scene play out, not when the petite pool shark was in trouble. “Get your hands—”

The words weren’t out of his mouth before Ruby elbowed the guy in the gut. “Oof.” He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and cursed her up and down using filthy names.

Crap. Now she was in deep. The guy’s head came up; the unabashed fury in his eyes was aimed her way. Brooks immediately pulled his arm back, fists at the ready, but before he could land a punch, Ruby grabbed the guy’s forearm. The twist of her body came so fast, Brooks blinked, and before he knew it, she’d tossed the big oaf over her shoulder WWF-style and had him down for the count. As in, she’d laid him out flat on his back.

Someone from the bar groused, “No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.”

Apparently the oaf hadn’t known that. And neither had Brooks. But hell, the rest of them had known.

She stepped over the man to face Brooks, her gaze on the right hook he’d been ready to land. “Thanks anyway,” she said, out of breath. Apparently she wasn’t Supergirl. The effort had taxed her, and he found himself enjoying how the ebb and flow of her labored breaths stretched the material of her blouse.

He stood there somewhat in awe, a grin spreading his mouth wide. “You didn’t let me do my gladiator routine.”

“Sorry. Maybe next time.” Her lips quirked up.

Behind her, the bartender and another man began dragging the patron away.

“Does that happen often?” he asked her.

“Often enough,” she said. “But not with guys who know me.”

He rubbed at his chin. “No. I wouldn’t imagine.”

He kept his gaze trained on her, astonished at what he’d just witnessed. Her eyes danced in amusement, probably at his befuddled expression. And then someone turned up the volume on the country song playing, and his thoughts ran wild. He was too intrigued to let the night end. This woman wasn’t your typical Texas beauty queen. She had spunk and grit and so much more. Hell, he hadn’t been this turned on in a long, long time.

A country Christmas ballad piped in through the speakers surrounding the room. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

She smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that suggested softness. And he would’ve believed that if he hadn’t seen her just deck a man. A big man.

Her head tilted to the left, and she gauged him thoughtfully.

He was still standing, so that was a plus. She didn’t find him out of line.

“Sure. I’d like that, Galahad.”

“It’s Brooks.”

“Ruby.”

She led him to the dance floor and he took over from there, placing his hand on the small of her back, enfolding her other hand in his. Small and delicate to big and rough. But it worked. And how, did it work.

He began to move, holding her at arm’s length, breathing her in as they glided across the dance floor.

“I thought you were in trouble back there,” he said.

“I gathered.”

“Are you a black belt or something?”

“Nope, just grew up around men and learned early on how to take care of myself. What about you? Do you have a knight in shining armor complex or something?”

He laughed. “Where I come from, a man doesn’t stand by and watch someone abuse a lady.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Apparently I was the only other guy in the place who didn’t know you could handle yourself.”

She was looking at him now, piercing him with those cocoa eyes and giving him that megawatt smile. “It was sorta sweet, you coming to my rescue.” Was she flirting? Man, oh man. If she was, he wasn’t going to stop her.

“I was watching you, like every other guy at the bar.”

“I like to play pool. I’m good at it,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s a great way to blow off steam.”

“That’s exactly why I stopped into the bar myself. I needed to do the same.”

“You get brownie points for not saying the obvious.”

“Which is?”

Her lips twitched and she hesitated for a second, as if trying to decide whether to tell him or not. “That you know a better way to blow off steam.”

Her raven brows rose, and he stopped dancing for a second to study her. “You must drive men wild with your mouth.”

She shook her head, grinning. “You’re sinking, Brooks. Going under fast.”

“I was talking about your sass.”

She knew. She was messing with him. “Most men hate it.”

“Not me. It’s refreshing.”

He brought her closer, so that the tips of her breasts grazed his shirt and the scent of her hair tickled his nostrils. She didn’t flip him over her shoulder with that move. She cuddled up closer. “So far, I have two brownie points,” he said. “What can I do to earn another?”

Her gaze drifted to his mouth with pinpoint accuracy. Air left his chest. A deep hunger, like none he’d experienced before, gnawed into his belly.

“You’ll think of something, Galahad.”

* * *

The stranger’s lips touched hers, a brief exploration that warmed up her insides and made her question everything she’d done since setting eyes on this guy. Usually she wasn’t this brazen with men. She didn’t flirt and plant ideas in their heads. But there was something about Brooks that called to her. He had manners. And he knew how to speak to a woman. He seemed familiar and safe in a way, even though they’d never met before. He wasn’t hard on the eyes either, with all that blond hair, thick and wavy and catching the collar of his zillion-dollar shirt. He was as citified as they came, even if he wore slick boots and sported five-o’clock stubble. As soon as she’d spotted him at the bar, she knew he didn’t belong. Not here, in a dusty small town out in the middle of nowhere. Cool Springs wasn’t exactly a mecca of high society, and this guy was that and then some. His coming to her rescue, all granite muscles and fists ready to pummel, was about the nicest thing a man had done for her in a long while.

Trace came to mind, and she immediately washed his image from her head. She wasn’t going to think about her breakup with him. He was six months long gone, and she’d wasted enough time on him.

Instead she wrapped her arms around Brooks’s neck and clung to him, her body sizzling from the heat surrounding them. He began to move again, slower, closer, his scent something expensive and tasteful. Her nerves were raw. Something was happening to her. Something unexpected and thrilling. Her life was too predictable lately, and it was time to change that.

His mouth found hers again, and this time the kiss was hot enough to brand cattle. A fiery mix of passion and lust, making her forget she didn’t kiss strangers like this, on an open dance floor with half the town watching. But Brooks didn’t let up, and she couldn’t pull back or move away. It was that good.

She played with the curling ends of his hair.

He slid his hands lower on her back.

She tucked herself into him.

He groaned and kissed her harder.

The music ended and she hardly noticed.

She stared into his blue eyes.

He gave her a smile.

Her body was shaking.

He was trembling, too.

“What now?” he rasped. “You want another dance?”

She shook her head. “I need air.”

He took her hand and led her off the dance floor and out the door of the C’mon Inn. Clouds shadowed half the full moon, and the bite of December air should’ve cooled her down. But Brooks kept her close to his side, his body shielding her from the cold. Any shivering she was doing was caused by the man beside her and not the dropping winter temperature. He led her around back, where a bench made of iron and wood sat unoccupied near a walled garden. “Would you like to sit?” he asked, and before she could answer, he took a seat and reached for her, giving her the option of where on the bench she wanted to plop down. She chose his lap.

His satisfied smile was her reward, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re beautiful, Ruby. You probably hear that all the time.” His hand grazed her neck as he held her hair back to nibble on her throat. Then his tongue moistened her skin as he laid out a row of sensual kisses there. Her insides went a little squishy from his tender assault. Whatever this was, it was happening fast. His rock-hard erection pressing against her legs told her he was as turned on as she was.

“Not really. I tend to scare men off.” By her own choosing, she warded off men’s advances before giving them half a chance. She’d been waiting around for Trace, hoping he’d come back to her, but that hadn’t happened. And now she found pleasure in this man’s arms. She didn’t know a thing about him, other than her instincts said he was a decent man.

“Little ole you,” he whispered softly before claiming her lips again. The taste of alcohol combined with his confidence was a sweet elixir to her recent loneliness. His mouth pressed hers harder, and the tingles under her skin bumped up another notch. “You didn’t scare me off.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m here with you.”

“I like the sound of that.” The rasp in his voice intensified.

They stopped talking long enough to work up a sweat. Sharp and quick tingles ran up and down her body, and her breaths came in short bursts. She was aware of him at every turn. His well-placed touches made her tremble. His kisses swamped her in heat. Brooks wasn’t far behind. His passion swept her up, and the proof of his desire strained the material of his dark pants. She arched her body in a curving bow, craving more, wanting his hands on her everywhere. Under her cropped shirt, her nipples tightened, and an ache throbbed below her waist.

Finally Brooks touched her breasts, and the beauty of the sensation purred from her lips. “Oh, yes.”

Low guttural sounds surfaced from his chest, groans of pleasure and want as his hands moved over her body, palms wide, so he could grasp every inch of her. He flattened her erect nipples, followed the curve of her torso and dipped down lower to her hips. He ran his hands along her legs, up and down her thighs, and from under her jeans she felt the burn on her skin.

Laughter coming from patrons leaving the inn rang in her ears.

Brooks stopped and listened.

The sounds became softer and eventually ceased. Thank goodness those people weren’t coming back here.

“Ruby, honey. I’m not one for public groping.” He hesitated a second. “I have a room.”

She bit down on her lower lip, his taste lingering on her mouth. It helped her make the decision. She wasn’t ready for this to end. “Take me there.”

* * *

Ruby drove him wild and crazy with want. Yeah, he’d been without a woman for several months, but this woman was more than he’d ever dreamed of. This woman, he couldn’t have even imagined. She was the hottest female he’d met in his life, and she was exactly what he needed to...ah, hell, blow off steam. Her flipping that oaf on his back had been just the beginning. From then on, every word that came out of her mouth, every tempting gesture and coy smile, had been perfect. Brooks had it bad for her. Suggesting taking her to his room had been brash. Insane, really, since he’d known her less than an hour.

No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.

Apparently he’d made the grade. ’Cause he was messing with her, and had her full approval.

He scooped her up from the bench, and she automatically wound her arms around his neck as he climbed the outside staircase that led to his room. She was petite and lightweight, and it wasn’t a struggle to carry her up the stairs in his arms. Darkness concealed them for most of the way. Once he slid the key card into the lock and shoved the door open with a hip, he moved inside and set her on her feet. She still clung to him.

Lord have mercy.

They were finally alone. Brooks’s deep sense of decorum kicked in big time. He knew what he was dealing with. She wasn’t some floozy who staked men out in a bar. She wasn’t an easy piece who’d consider him another conquest. He could tell that from the warm glow in her eyes now, from the way all the men at the bar respected her, from the way she’d chosen him and not the other way around. For all those reasons, he wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation.

He brushed a kiss to her lips. “Welcome.”

As antiquated as the inn was, at least the place was clean. There was no flat-screen television on the wall, no wet bar or cushy king-size bed for added luxury. Nor was there a spacious wardrobe closet or a sunken bathtub or any of the things Brooks was accustomed to. Ruby strolled over to peer out the back window. From where he stood, the view was hardly noteworthy or attractive: just a vast amount of unincorporated land. The lack of illumination was actually a plus since there was nothing to see out there. “I’ve never been inside one of these rooms,” she said.