Free Desert Heat by Kat Martin

Tyler and this was supposed to be an adventure. “All right—if you’re sure your feet can stand it.”
    Blue took her hand and led her out on the floor. Fortunately, the song ended just then and the disk jockey started playing an old Rolling Stones rock song, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” so she didn’t have to try to learn anything new. It was fun dancing again, something she hadn’t done in years, and she found herself laughing, just like everyone else.
    The dance ended and Wes McCauley stood waiting at the edge of the floor. The DJ started playing “Bubba Shot the Juke Box” and Wes dragged her out in the middle of the crowd, determined to teach her his version of the two-step. But the man’s feet were as big as his body and mostly he just whipped her around until her neck was sore and her feet black and blue. Patience was eternally grateful when the song came to an end.
    She passed on the next cowboy who asked her, returned to the bar, and climbed up on the stool Stormy gave up for her. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”
    Shari laughed. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
    Patience sipped her beer. A slow song started, Garth Brooks, “Beaches of Cheyenne,” and she felt a tug on her arm.
    “How ’bout a dance?” Dallas asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, just hauled her off the stool, across the room, and out onto the dance floor. Before Patience had time to prepare herself, she was wrapped in his arms.
    God, he felt even better than he had the last time he had held her. He was wearing the same sexy cologne she had noticed in his truck and his dark, neatly trimmed hair teased her hand at the back of his neck. He was holding her so close she could feel the snaps on his western shirt, and it occurred to her she was following his lead as if they had danced together a hundred times.
    He was a very good dancer—no surprise there. Dallas was good at whatever he did. The notion struck out of the blue— he’s probably as good in bed as he is on the dance floor.
    Sex with Dallas Kingman. It was a completely unexpected and totally unwanted thought—and a daunting one.
    Dallas might be good in bed, but Patience was a complete and utter failure. She could still hear Tyler’s mocking words the day she had broken off with him, telling her what a terrible lover she was. Worst of all, as much as she disliked him, she was afraid it might be true.
    “I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said to Dallas, forcing herself to smile.
    “Why not?”
    “You have to ride tomorrow.”
    His dark brows pulled into a frown. “If I ride the way I did today, whether I come here or not won’t make a fiddler’s damn.” There was an odd cadence in his voice. For the first time, she realized that he had been drinking. More than just a little.
    “You’re drunk.”
    “So?”
    “I don’t think you should be drinking when you have to ride. You might end up getting hurt.”
    He drew back to look at her. “And I suppose you’d care.”
    Patience glanced away. “Of course I’d care. I-I don’t like seeing anyone get hurt.”
    Dallas stared down at her and something softened for a moment in his features. His body brushed hers as they danced. He tightened his hold and she found herself pressed nearly full length against him. When the dance ended, he eased her into the corner, but he didn’t let her go.
    Dallas bent his head. “I’ve been thinking about you.” His warm breath feathered over her ear and it was difficult to concentrate. Then the hand at her waist slid down to her bottom and he pulled her even closer. “I’ve got something for you, honey. You want to find out what it is?”
    Patience’s eyes flew wide. He was fully aroused and he wanted her to know it. He was looking at her as if she were a saucer of cream he meant to lap up, and at least a dozen people were staring at them.
    Patience set her jaw. “I’ve got something for you, too, honey. ” Jerking away from him, she drew back and slapped his