Free The Cowboy Who Broke the Mold by Cathleen Galitz Page B

Carrie announced in a voice too shaky to convince Judson that she hadn’t been af- fected by the moment.
    She had stared into his eyes in hazy anticipation, and something inside him had gone completely still. Had the circumstances not been so damnably wrong, he surely would have covered those tempting lips with his own and sampled their promised sweetness. If only to get her out of my system once and for all, he lamely added as an afterthought.
    “Come on, Daddy,” Brandy entreated earnestly, pulling hard on his hand. “It’s time to go.”
    Despite the warning lights flashing inside his head, he heard himself ask Carrie, “Will I see you at the Harvest Ball on Friday?”
    The tiny pulse beating in Carrie’s throat belied the emotions she was trying so desperately to fight. If she wasn’t careful, she knew that small ache in her heart would explode into yearnings that she could not allow herself to feel. Yearnings that stubbornly refused to be ignored.
    Despite her vow to keep her distance from any em- ployer who made her so very aware of herself as a woman, Carrie found herself nodding her head in affir- mation.
    “I’ll be there.”
    She had already received an invitation in the mail and had been informed that, as the newest member of this small community, her presence was expected in Atlantic City. Though reluctant to return to “Jackalope City,” as she’d affectionately dubbed it, it was a perfect op- portunity to get to know her students’ parents in a social atmosphere.
    What harm could possibly come from a simple com- munity get-together? she asked herself, immediately blocking the frightening array of answers to that very question.
    Judson’s gaze was pinned directly on her, and Car- rie’s pulse bounded. So graceful and fluid was this man in the simple movements of everyday life, she couldn’t help but wonder if he wouldn’t prove to be a wonderful dancer, as well. Clearly Judson Horn was the type of man who would do everything to perfection—including making love…
    Cursing herself for the blush that rose to her face, Carrie told herself that Judson’s apology had set the tone for nothing more than a strictly professional rela- tionship. She couldn’t afford to blow that. She needed this job almost as much as she needed to believe she was in complete control of the romantic nature that she kept neatly tucked out of sight. Remembering how the past had so painfully enlightened her on the fact that romance was highly overrated, Carrie told herself she was far too old to believe in childish fairy tales. Shemay be going to a country-western ball, but she cer- tainly didn’t fancy herself as Cinderella.
    And even though Judson Horn’s incredible know- everything-tell-nothing blue eyes could melt icebergs, that didn’t necessarily make him Prince Charming.

Chapter Five
    T hough Snuffy had told her that dress was informal, Carrie felt self-conscious in the Western clothing she had bought especially for the occasion. Cowboy boots clicking on hardwood floors, she felt like a fraud as she presented her invitation for the Harvest Ball at the his- toric Gold Diggers’ Inn. It was accepted with a flourish by an older man in nautical garb who told her to “Just call me Captain.” A woman with jet-black hair swept dramatically back from her face presented her with a room key. The proprietors, both New York City trans- plants, were deliciously eccentric. Feeling at home among misfits, Carrie felt suddenly glad that Snuffy had convinced her to splurge on an all-night “wingding.” Renting a room for the night would save her from driv- ing long, treacherous miles over mountain passes at night.
    A familiar sound rose above the polite mingling of conversations in the room, vibrating deep inside her. Low and sexy, Judson Horn’s voice alone was enoughto raise her temperature to “simmering.” As green eyes met blue across the crowded room, Carrie felt a band cinch tight around her chest, cutting off her