Faith’s breath left her in a rush when she saw the tall cowboy stepping towards her. Her heart did a somersault and her womanly parts cried out in joy. To say she’d been in a dry spell as far as her romantic life was concerned was like saying the Sahara was a beachfront property.

Not that she’d consciously cut men out of her life. She’d been too busy graduating from college with honors and getting accepted into law school to worry about anything as mundane as men. Or romance. Or sex.

One look at the ruggedly handsome cowboy dressed in pressed denim jeans and a black chambray shirt beneath a tan sheepskin jacket let her know exactly what she’d been missing. A black Stetson sat atop dark, curly hair that, from the exposed strands, looked thick and healthy. Her fingers itched to see if felt as silky as it looked. Blue eyes stared at her from a face that reminded her of a young Mel Gibson, making her stomach clench again. Damn, but the man was hot with a capital H-O-T.

“You need to put your coat on.”

Just like that, her fantasy man became reality with a thud. Here she’d been picturing him as a romantic hero and the first words out of his mouth were not the poetic drivel whipping through her brain at the sight of him. She groaned at the loss of what she’d began to hope would be a bright side to being sent to the back of beyond. Just what she needed, she thought humorlessly, another bossy man in her life. Even if he was cuter than a frolicking puppy on a spring day.

Oh well, she’d learned how to handle the bossy sort a long time ago.

“That’s going to be a little difficult, Sport, since I don’t have one.” Her father hadn’t given her time to return home and pack more appropriate clothing for her western adventure. Not that she had the type of clothing she’d need to withstand a Wyoming winter. She’d lived in Florida for the past seven years. Not much need there for heavy coats or fur-lined boots.

A car to take her to the airport had been waiting for her the moment she’d walked out of her last exam, her suitcase already in the trunk. From the quick look she’d gotten as she passed through airport security, her wardrobe for the next few weeks consisted of some light weight sweaters, a linen blouse, a turtle neck she’d never worn, two pairs of jeans—one of which she was wearing— enough socks for a year, and an unusual amount of underwear. She wondered who her father had sent to pack for her. She knew it hadn’t been Myra, her father’s secretary. If it had, she’d be wearing a warm, down filled parka instead of a lightweight sweater. The thought of a strange man rummaging through her panty drawer made her shudder.

“Here.”

Faith felt every muscle in her body go taut as the cowboy with the movie-star looks shed his coat and placed it about her shoulders. Peripherally, she was aware of other women staring openly at him as they passed. He seemed unmoved by their gawking. Maybe he was used to women throwing themselves at him.

The thought brought Faith up short. She wasn’t here to find a man. Although, if she were, she’d certainly put Quinn Sutton at the top of her list.

Hmm. A Christmas list. Naughty or nice…