1 Chapter 1

Kim careened around the corner of the two-and-a-half story wooden tower at a dead run, her waist-length braid slapping on her backShe knew the rodeo office was housed in the bottom, while the announcer’s booth sat on top. Not that it mattered at the moment. Late again—the story of my life.

As she struggled to balance three-and-a-half armfuls of photo gear in the two she’d been given, she swore under her breath. Shit, of all days for my alarm clock to go kablooy. If I’ve missed Cody’s ride, he’ll kill me.

She had a standing contract with Riverbend’s favorite son, Cody Elkheart, to capture on video every ride he made. She also gleaned his publicity shots from the best stills she could get. Similar arrangements with numerous other contestants formed the work which was her bread and butter.

When she twisted to avoid a steaming fresh pile of horse manure, she felt her bad knee protest the motion. That knee was the main reason she now photographed instead of competing in the rodeos. There was enough metal in it to set off the alarms every time she went through airport security.

Watch your step, gal. You’re in Marlboro country and all the green ain’t grass.

As she staggered, trying to regain her balance, she tripped over a pair of blue jean clad legs that suddenly appeared at the periphery of her vision. The strap of the biggest camera bag slid off her shoulder. At the same instant, two powerful arms came out of nowhere to catch and steady her. She gasped. How could he have gotten up so fast?

For a long minute she rested against a solid chest covered in soft blue chambray. Then her rescuer very carefully released her. He took a half step back, arms still extended in case she could not find her balance.

“You are all right? I am so sorry. I did not see you coming until you were right here.”

She looked up and still farther up, distinctly a novelty. Her five-foot-nine-inch height put her near eye level with most of the cowboys, but this one was a giant. A totally gorgeous hunk of a giant,she amended as his baby-blue gaze met hers. An expression of anxious concern marked his chiseled features.

“I was just catching a few minutes of shut-eye before they call my ride. We drove all night to get here, my friends and I, but that is a bad excuse for having my big feets in your way.”

There was something odd yet familiar about his speech, both the accent and the strange way he put some phrases together. She was trying to puzzle that out when he sketched a very continental bow, almost sweeping the ground with the ivory-tan Resistol he doffed to make the gesture.

“Wolfgang Voegler, at your service.” He smiled with a flash of teeth any dentist would be proud to use in an ad. “My friends call me Wolf. Here, let me help to carry your equipment.”

Ah ha, German or something similar—like Hungarian or Austrian

His accent brought to mind a well-known action movie star. There was even a bit of similarity in their looks, although Wolf was definitely the more handsome. He belonged on a recruiting poster for Kaiser Bill’s army! In spite of herself, Kim felt her heart speed up. It went into double-time when he smiled again, gazing down at her warmly as he reached for the sliding strap.

“I’m heading for the bucking chutes,” Kim managed, “and I’m already late. This hasn’t been one of my better days.”

“That is also where I am to go,” Wolf said, “so we can go together. You are a photographer, no?”

Kim nodded, letting him take the heavy bag while she got a better grip on the tripod, her video camera, and an accessory bag. “Yes, I’m a sports photographer. I specialize in rodeos and horse shows. I guess I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? I’m Kimbrel Westbrooke, Kim to friends.”

“I am honored to make your acquaintance, Ms. Westbrooke. However, I am thinking that one as lovely as yourself should be in front of the camera instead of behind it.”

She started to snort her scorn at this blatant flattery, but something in the towering man’s tone made it sound so sincere she couldn’t. Well, hell, if a man this good looking wants to come on to me, who am I to run him off?She tilted her head enough to smile up in his direction as they started off. “I’m grateful for the help, Mr. Voegler.”

Wolf carried the bag all the way to the end of the bucking chutes where she was going to set up. “Please, call me Wolf. Sorry, but I must go now to make ready for my bronco ride,” he apologized. “But I can come back later to help you move your gear wherever you need to go next.”

She suppressed a chuckle. He reminded her of her two-year-old Rottweiler. Blitz normally behaved in similar fashion, so anxiously eager to please that he almost stumbled over himself. The man’s manner should have been ridiculous, but somehow it was instead utterly charming. She gave him her best smile.