"Luke Tanner and women didn't mix, plain and simple."
Luke Tanner learned early on that no one cared enough to look past his roughhewned appearance and sour attitude to discover what lay beneath the surface - other than his wallet. When Mary Carter hits him up for a loan, he makes her a proposition she can't refuse.
Mary fantasized about Luke Tanner since her first glimpse of the veritable mountain of a man. She knows there's more to Luke than his bank account. Though she tries to hide her feelings, a fire burns between them. Will it end in ashes - or forge a love that would last a lifetime.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my land?”
The shock of the deep male voice held Mary immobile for several seconds.
She turned slowly, facing the man she had come to see. But if the sound of his voice had shocked her, the sight of the man stunned her. Mary had seen Luke Tanner on several occasions but she had never been this up close and personal. A mountain of a man, she had to look up to see his face. A long way up. With genuine feminine appreciation she realized that Luke Tanner would stand at least six-foot-four in his stocking feet. His shoulders were broad and sturdy, their huge mass emphasized by the flannel-lined denim work jacket he wore. His large size made her, Mary Carter, feel small and dainty.
A patch of dark, curling hair peeked out from the neckline of his blue plaid western shirt and her stomach quivered at the tantalizing glimpse of his permanently sun-darkened chest. Her gaze fell, drinking in the sight of his strong, muscular legs. Whitewashed jeans clung lovingly to every male sinew. Even though his waist could never be called slim, it was in perfect proportion to his size. To Mary, he was a fine looking man.
With great reluctance, she tore her gaze away, taking in the rest of his sun-bronzed features – his frowning forehead, his beard-roughened jaw, and his crooked nose. Immediately his eyes captured her attention. My goodness, she had never seen such incredible eyes. Green as the mountain grass after the first spring rain and surrounded by lashes a woman would die for.
Mary shivered, more in reaction to this potently virile male than from the cold seeping beneath her coat.
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