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CHAPTER 1

"What the fuck, what's that little bitch doin' here?"

Deputy Micah Danvers' enhanced senses caught the menacing whisper through the friendly chatter in White Deer's June town hall craft fair. He zeroed in on two young cowboys, Deke Masters and Jared Marks, obviously liquored up and ready to rumble. Oh yeah, he'd had a run-in with them shortly after he'd come to town. Definitely troublemakers. Despite knowing he could handle them, Micah's gut tightened.

He purely hated dealing with mobs. They brought back bad memories.

Someone bumped into him. His hands fisted.

"Hey, sorry, Deputy Danvers," Juan, a young kid who lived with his mother above the town bakery, murmured before running over to his friends.

"Sorry," Micah answered softly, even knowing the kid wouldn't hear him. His face reddened at the slip. He forced himself to relax.

His attention returned to the two cowboys, trying to see what they were up to. The crowd shifted, so Micah saw the men were glaring at a pretty young woman with long black hair and golden skin sitting at one of the craft tables. She smiled as she held up a handful of twigs, demonstrating something to the folks in front of her table.

Micah frowned. Whoever she was, she was a stranger and he didn't like strangers.

Micah ate the same cereal for breakfast every morning. He always bought the same blue and brown shirts. He picked up plain white briefs. He liked everything the same and he liked knowing who was in town.

He closed his eyes, trying to catch her scent. Citrus. She was wearing something like grapefruit.

Micah tilted his head, not sure he liked it. It was ... different. Kind of abrasive, but also strong, fresh.

His cock hardened.

And whoa, what the fuck was that?

Survival instinct kicked in, warning him to stay far, far away from the new woman in town. Something about her smelt ... forbidden.

Micah was frowning when Mary Watson rejoined him, squeezing his arm as if to ask him what was up. He looked at her and felt vaguely embarrassed, as if he'd been caught.

Keep it low key, asshole, he told himself when his gut clenched again. Don't stand out.

Mary worked as a secretary at the little town hall, so Micah saw her often. They'd become good friends. He liked her straightforward gray eyes and warm smile as well as the long brown hair that fell to her waist.

"Did you find that gelding you were interested in looking at again?" he asked her.

Mary nodded. "Be a good horse for your stable, cowboy," she said, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Huh, don't think so. My barn is almost as much a ruin as the cabin," Micah said. "And my roof leaks. Gotta fix that first."

"He's a beauty, Mike," Mary said, using the nickname she and some of the townspeople now occasionally used. In all the towns where he'd lived, Micah had never had a nickname before and somehow that made White Deer home, even if it was dangerously close to the village where he'd grown up ... and fled.

Since Mary was an expert horsewoman, Micah took her seriously. "Okay, I better take a look at that gelding again. But if I have to fix up that wreck of a barn in a hurry, you're helpin'."

"Deal!" she said. "Do you mind if I check out some of the tables? I know the craft stuff isn't your thing."

"I was looking at the cutting boards," he said, raising his hands mock defensively. "I'm not a stereotype."

She grimaced. "Nuh-uh. Cutting boards are a manly thing. I don't see you checking out the art quilts or the crochet."

"I don't need a bed spread and I wouldn't know crochet if it bit my ass."

"Maybe I can bite your ass sometime soon," Mary purred.

Micah pulled away automatically, then scolded himself. What was he doing? This date was part of the plan. He wanted to stay in this town. Mary was going to be a part of that.

Sharp green eyes the color of bottle glass. His gaze was caught by the young stranger sitting at the table. She was looking in his direction, watching him with Mary.

He looked away, flushing.

Oblivious to Micah's uncomfortable moment, Mary smiled and strolled away, hands loose in the pockets of her jeans, completely relaxed and in her element in a way Micah hadn't allowed himself to experience since he was a young boy. He opened his mouth, wanting to call her back and ask her if she knew who the stranger was.

A warning spike prodding his back broke the moment and he turned away from his date to meet those tilted green eyes again. The woman at the craft table was still studying him. When he put his hands on his hips and met her gaze for gaze she did not demurely drop her eyes but continued to look back at him with frank appreciation.

She thought he was hot.

Micah blushed even hotter. A smug smile curled the woman's lips.

"Goddammit," he muttered, telling himself he didn't like her confidence any more than her cologne. Too brash, too bold for such a delicate little thing. Just what did she think she was playing at, looking at him as if she would like him to climb on top of her?

And yet his penis was stiff and full, as if she'd run a teasing hand over him.

Sweat broke out on Micah's forehead. The unknown woman was like a burr under his saddle. He needed to find out more about her because she should have backed down when he gave her such a challenging look. People found him intimidating at six-one of solid muscle, plus the uniform.

And then there was his wolf. Although most humans couldn't begin to guess what he was, on some level they sensed Micah had something inside, something dangerous he kept on a choke hold. But the woman merely went back to twisting wet twigs into a round shape as if she hadn't deliberately rattled his cage.

He watched a while, but couldn't see what about her had those cowboys riled up. He stalked closer, circling her, the wolf inside drawn to take a closer look.

The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, about five-five in height and she possessed fragile features which didn't mesh with those brilliant green eyes. She continued to expertly weave branches into her creation, strong brown hands flashing impossibly fast.

Drawn by her obvious talent, Micah stood next to her table watching her entertain a group of kids.

"First you have to make the round, flat bottom of your rustic basket." The young weaver's voice was husky, the voice of a femme fatale who would leave scratch marks on a man's back during sex. Her voice reminded Micah of the heavy kind of wind chimes that rang with deeper, more masculine tones. He liked her voice. Working as a new deputy just arrived in town, he most often caught the late shift, so he got tired of listening to harsh-voiced cowboys who'd had too much to drink.

"And you'd know all about bein' on the bottom, wouldn't you?" a slurred voice taunted.

Micah swung around to look directly into Deke's eyes. "Got a problem, Deke?" Micah hoped that his hard stare would tell the rowdy cowhand he'd have a very bad day if he acted up at a family craft fair.

"No, uh, no problem, Deputy." Deke's hazel eyes dropped, though his face was sullen. He grabbed the arm of his pal and lit out as if he'd stepped in the middle of a brush fire.

What the fuck was that about? Micah wondered as he turned back to look at the weaver. Her face had tightened and she didn't meet Micah's quizzical gaze with the boldness she'd displayed previously.

Instead she continued her instructions. "You let your willow dry out and then you soak it again before using it. Best place is a pond somewhere, if you have access to one."

"I heard tell of classes in Arizona for underwater basket weaving," a woman said. "Do you do that?"

"Nope." The weaver shook her head. "I need to breathe to weave baskets."

There was laughter as she bent more reeds into her creation, mixing it up with bark and twigs.

The weaver looked at Micah. "Are you going to introduce yourself?"

He blinked. "You're a bold one."

"Why, because you caught my eye?"

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head, but a little bit of color touched her cheeks. "Never mind, I saw you with that gorgeous woman who works in the city hall. Your date, I guess?"

Micah swallowed. "Yeah."

"Lucky woman."

"I'm Micah Danvers," he said.

"Sasha Anderson."

Micah nodded. "You're new in town."

Sasha's lips quirked. "Just been here a couple of months and I mostly stick to my place. I'm living at the old Morrison homestead. It's my homestead now, but folks have told me it'll always be the old Morrison homestead even if a Morrison hasn't lived there since 1887."

Micah grinned. He knew the place from the occasional drive-by. Almost as rundown as his dilapidated cabin, it was pretty remote. That explained why he'd never met Sasha before.

He couldn't walk away, studying her to try to figure out why she exerted a strange pull on his senses. She was slim, possessing none of Mary's curves. Sasha wore a loose T-shirt with paint splatters on it, which he guessed was kind of artistic, jeans and an old blanket wrapped around her shoulders up to her neck, as if she were chilled. The outfit didn't give away much of her figure. And yet when she met his gaze boldly an image flashed of her touching him just as boldly. Touching him sexually.

His neck heated with another blush and Micah tipped his cowboy hat. "Nice to meet you."

Sasha sighed. "Likewise, tall, dark and taken."

Sasha's gaze weighed on him as he reunited with Mary but he wouldn't let himself look her way again. He escorted Mary out of the main craft hall to check out the horse she had recommended and by the time he returned half an hour later, Sasha's table was empty.

Micah told himself it was better that Sasha was gone. She got under a man's skin.

* * *

"Are you sure you won't come in?" Mary asked him again. She gave him such a happy, beery smile that he couldn't help but smile back. They'd gone to the bar in town after the craft fair and she'd had a couple of longnecks.

Micah had stuck to ginger ale. He didn't let his guard down enough to drink in a bar.

"You're a bit wasted. I'd better not come in."

"Or you'll take advantage of me?" Her voice drifted off suggestively but Micah only leaned close and kissed her cheek.

"Micah ..." A look of frustration moved over Mary's face before she laughed. "You're right, I've had too much to drink. See you tomorrow." She left his black SUV, waving as he watched her walk toward the trailer where she lived. After he saw she was safely inside, Micah's head fell back.

What the fuck?

Mary was his type. She was curvy, frank speaking, kind, funny and sexy.

Why hadn't he gone inside her trailer and taken her up on her invitation?

His last encounter had been almost a year ago and he was wild for sex. He burned for it, hungry the way only a frustrated alpha wolf shifter can be hungry, wanting to crush another smaller body under his, wanting to dominate and to fuck.

A smaller body ...

His cock hardened when he remembered the scent of grapefruit, the stare of exotic green eyes sizing him up. Sasha Anderson hadn't been so dainty that she hadn't looked at his crotch. Red heat washed over him at the idea of snarling his hand in her silky black hair while she was on her knees, could look at him all she wanted before he thrust in her mouth ...

No. He wasn't going to think about her anymore. He knew nothing about her, since he'd felt too raw from their encounter to ask around about Sasha.

There was something about her. Something different that sent a warning through his body. But fuck, he was hot for her.

He put the SUV in gear and pulled out of Mary's parking lot, heading through town to catch the switchback that eventually led to his cabin. Most roads had to go through White Deer since there wasn't much else out here.

Just outside of town he saw a Honda Civic on the side of the road along with a red Toyota truck he recognized as belonging to Deke. The truck was across the path of the little car, as if it had deliberately blocked its passage.

Micah shot the SUV behind the other two vehicles and grabbed his flashlight. "Hello?"

Sasha's scent. And Deke's.

"Ow!"

In the trees next to the road the circle of bright unflattering light revealed Deke on the ground, gripping the front of his jeans, which were loose around his waist, his mouth stretched in a soundless scream.

Sasha had her hands on her bony little hips. "I told you to stay away from me," she growled before looking up at Micah. "Deputy —"

"What's going on?" He wanted to haul Deke away from Sasha and smash his head into something hard. His heart was thudding fast, too fast. He fought to control the beast inside him. Sweat broke out on his upper lip.

Jesus. He had to get it together.

"Deke and I just have different ... perspectives," Sasha said, her brow creasing with concern. Concern for him, Micah sensed. She approached him when most people would have backed off, reaching out to place a cool hand on his arm.

He stared at that small hand and his inner tension relaxed.

"He didn't hurt you?" Micah wanted to brush the soft hair off Sasha's forehead.

"Nope." Sasha smiled. "I hurt him."

Micah smiled back, then looked at Deke. "Good. I'm calling Jerry," Micah said, referring to tonight's on-duty deputy.

"Ohhhhh ..." Deke rolled over on the ground.

"I better take a closer look at him," Micah said, grimacing. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He could smell alcohol and vomit coming from Deke but he had to make sure he was okay.

Sasha nodded, as if she understood. She dropped her hand.

"What happened?"

Sasha chewed her lip, following Micah as he knelt to check Deke.

"He doesn't like me much. Not in public anyway," Sasha said, a strange thread of pain in her voice.

"He tried to rape you?" Deke seemed all right. Just woozy now. He didn't meet Micah's gaze.

"No, he ... wouldn't have to rape me," Sasha said, still in that tight, odd voice.

Micah frowned, wanting to understand. Something was off here.

"If he tried to rape you, then you need to press charges," Micah said, anger flashing again. He hated the idea of Deke putting his hands on Sasha, hurting and frightening her. Sasha looked at Deke and then back at Micah's face.

"Can we ... ?" She nodded farther down the road. She wanted some privacy.

Micah followed her, boots ringing against the broken asphalt. He was going to get some answers, goddamnit.

When they paused behind the screen of the vehicles, Sasha looked at him, yearning in her vivid green eyes. Micah's body reacted as if lightning had touched him. If she wanted a kidney from his body, he'd cut it out for her right now, hand it to her dripping with his blood.

God. What was happening to him?

The burning.

No, it couldn't be. This woman he'd just met couldn't be his mate.

"Before I tell you can I —"

"What? Tell me."

"This ... just this one time I want a taste of you." She looped her arms around his neck and he covered her soft lips, taking her mouth. He was meant to take her mouth. He was meant to mount her, have her. Have her so many ways. Her legs around his hips while he buried himself in her. Her ass red from his hand print as he used her from behind ...

He had a vision of taking her on his official vehicle while she wore his handcuffs.

Blood pounded crazy in his senses. His fingers sprouted sharp claws so he had to fist his hands to hide them while he struggled for control.

She was slender and strong and shaking in his arms. He liked the frank way she put her tongue in his mouth while sucking his tongue, letting him know she welcomed his penetration.

"Sasha ..." he groaned. "He didn't hurt you? Tell me he didn't hurt you because it makes me sick, thinking of him touching you."

Sasha pulled away, licking her swollen lips as if she craved every bit of Micah's taste. He couldn't stop himself from leaning down and they were knotted up in a hot kiss again. He wanted the goddamn serape off her so he could truly get his hands on her.

Somehow he managed to take a step back. If he didn't, he was afraid he'd scare her. He barely had control of his beast.

"He's just angry because he wants me," Sasha said, breathing hard as she stared into Micah's eyes.

Not as much as I do, sweet heart. "That's no excuse."

"Oh, but in his mind, it is." Sasha's mouth tightened and she yanked the muffling blanket aside at last, revealing her small, wiry body.

Micah stared, eager to look at her, seeing the dusty jeans, the loose T-shirt and ...

"Oops. I'm not a girl," Sasha said.

Micah stumbled away from her ... from him.

"It was a sexy kiss, Micah," Sasha said softly. "Don't worry. I know it doesn't mean anything now."

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Excerpted from "A Plain, Ordinary Cowboy"
by .
Copyright © 2011 Jan Irving.
Excerpted by permission of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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