Chapter 1

~ Six months later…~

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Meredith Carlisle said as she clutched the door handle of Lacey Carrington’s Maserati convertible. The top was up and Meredith was relieved for that, because she didn’t want anyone to see her in the dimly lit parking lot.

Especially during her sudden freak-out.

Her palms were clammy and her breathing was ragged as she stared out the windshield of the car toward the back door of Tristan Laughton’s bar on Main Street. The establishment was the most frequented saloon in Wildfire, Texas—and tonight, it ought to be more packed than usual, since it was Meredith’s twenty-first birthday.

Half the county had been invited to help her celebrate, thanks to Lacey.

“This is a fabulous idea,” Lacey assured her from the driver’s seat. “One of my absolute best. And, hey—you wanted this, girlfriend!”

“Sure, sure…Six months ago when I was on the cusp of legal drinkin’ age,” she mumbled. “But tonight? Dressed like this…? Yeah…No. Not so much.”

Meredith’s pulse wouldn’t slow. It just kept hitching, notch after notch.

The nervous anxiety wasn’t solely related to her teetering on the verge of being the center of attention. Something Meredith typically avoided like the plague. It was also due to the extreme makeover Lacey had just performed on her. They’d been locked away all day at the gorgeous ranch house where Beverly Hills-transplant Lacey Carrington now resided with her hunky ex-rodeo-god-turned-devoted-fiancé, Chase Maverick.

Lacey owned the beauty boutique in town that Meredith worked at as Director of Social Media. Meredith also now lived above the shop in an adorable one-bedroom apartment she rented from Lacey. Her boss/landlord was Meredith’s absolute dearest friend—as such, Meredith had trusted Lacey to style her long brunette hair this evening with plump curls that were wildly entangled in purposeful disarray and accented with new, deep-auburn highlights.

Lacey had also expertly applied Meredith’s cosmetics for this momentous occasion, in neutral shades that significantly enhanced Meredith’s delicate facial features and tawny, almond-shaped eyes, fringed by glammed-to-the-max false lashes. A nice complement to the smoky eye effect, unhindered by the fact she’d ordered contact lenses so she didn’t have to wear her glasses tonight. The crimson lipstick Meredith wore was near-impossible to get used to—she had to continually remind herself not to nibble her lower lip as the panic besieged her, so it didn’t end up on her teeth.

Meredith didn’t do makeup as a rule. Well, no more than a simple coat of mascara and a dab of lip gloss.

Nor did she typically wear slinky dresses and high-heeled shoes. For this particular rite of passage, however, she’d boldly selected her favorite ensemble from Lacey’s closet—a halter-style black mini-dress paired with five-inch suede leopard-print platform stilettos.

The mini was currently concealed under a three-quarter-length coat that reached almost to her knees and was tied with a sash at her waist. Not only because it was mid-February and there was a chill in the air, but also because Meredith was terrified to show-off the chic outfit she’d borrowed.

Well, she’d done more than borrow it. She’d fully commandeered it, considering Lacey had volunteered to alter the dress to fit Meredith’s more petite stature.

Prompting Meredith to say, “I appreciate you givin’ up your clothing for me, Lacey, but I’m starting to think we took the hem up a bit too much.”

“It’s just right,” Lacey contended.

“What if I flash everyone when I sit down?”

“Cross your legs as you’re sitting.”

“A true art form,” she grumbled under her breath. Then said, “The material’s really tight around my boobs and waist. And it dips so damn low in the back. Every little inch of me is on display.”

Lacey laughed softly. “That’s sort of the point, Meredith.”

“I’m not sure I can go through with this.” She hadn’t even unlatched her seatbelt yet. Was firmly strapped in and ready to tell Lacey to start the engine back up and drive her far, far away.

“You are going to be sensational this evening,” Lacey insisted. “Jaws will hit the floor when everyone sees you and you’ll be the toast of the saloon. That Gregory Alexander you’ve been pining over forever and a day will have no choice but to take serious note. And eat his heart out over not having asked you out in all the years he’s known you. Tonight, Meredith, I swear that boy will walk barefoot across glass to get close to you.”

“So I can trip all over him in these shoes?”

“You’ve been practicing for weeks.”

“Practicin’ in theory and executin’ in reality are two very different concepts, Lacey.”

Nerves finally got the best of Meredith. Coiling her stomach and sending anxiety through her in waves that made her nauseous.

Damn it!

She’d wanted this! She’d been the one who’d planned her twenty-first birthday “coming out” party.

Not coming out in that way, mind you…

Well…Anything was possible at this point. Meredith had yet to discern where her true interests laid.

Granted, she was hung up on the ideal presented by Gregory Alexander.

Medium height, medium build, medium intellect, medium personality.

He was the stable, predictable sort. A high “S” on Tony Robbins’ DISC personality assessment. A “test” Meredith herself (a high “C,” who thrived on detailed charts, complex equations and diverse chemical interactions) had taken while trying to put a little context around her new life trajectory, following her unexpected—and highly explosive—ejection from an Ivy League school Science program.

A thoroughly humiliating and dejecting experience. But one that had unwittingly launched her into a completely different realm. A whole new professional scenario she’d been able to embrace because of Lacey’s inventive vision—and Lacey’s encouragement that Meredith seek a definition of what her “present” was and what her imminent “future” could be.

The present was tonight. A party at Tristan’s…in Meredith’s honor.

This evening…this debut of a new and improved—or rather, a sexier and more sophisticated—Meredith Carlisle…was her chance to shine.

Meredith, with her statistically thirsty, analytically obsessed mind, was supposed to make a dramatic shift toward the land of the fiery vivaciousness, life-of-the-party sort.

An admittedly GIANT leap for this particular womankind!

But it was what Meredith had convinced herself she wanted.

So she loosened her grip on the door handle.

She’d been clinging to it for how fucking long?

Five, ten, fifteen minutes?

Meredith had no idea.

She’d stalled out mentally. Had trapped herself too much in the past, in the image everyone in Wildfire, Texas had of her.

The smart, quirky, too-small-for-her-oversized-clothes-and-glasses, college dropout.

Fuck the past.

“I requested this makeover for a reason,” she reminded herself—and Lacey. “To make a point to the good people of Wildfire, whom I’ve known my entire life. No!” Her hand shot up, palm out, her newly manicured nails gleaming in the parking lot lighting filtering in through the windows. “To make a splash in Wildfire. That’s what my intention is.”

And with no further discussion or ado, she reached for the door handle once more. Jerked on it and exited the car.

Head held high. Confidence soaring. Excitement trilling along her spine and humming through her veins.

Sure, she still wore her coat, which concealed her miniscule dress.

She needed just a moment or two more of this exhilarating sense of liberation to help her prepare for a full “cover reveal.”

As Lacey joined her alongside the expensive Maserati, Meredith told her, “You figured out how to take your stand in a town you felt you didn’t fit into, Lacey. And you did a great job of that. Now—I have to reinvent myself in a town I’ve grown up in.”

“Not the same, and yet not at all dissimilar,” Lacey casually commented. “But just as you explained to me when I was struggling to make it in Wildfire, you have to commit to a path and see it through.”

“Exactly.”

Meredith reached for the sash at her waist.

She yanked the knot free and shoved the garment over her shoulders, baring them.

Thrusting the coat at Lacey, she said, “Hang onto this for me, please. I’m empowered at the moment. No telling what’s gonna happen in the next twenty minutes or two hours that might necessitate me coverin’ myself back up.”

“Only your self-perceived shortcomings will necessitate you covering up, Mere. And well…Screw those self-perceived shortcomings!” Lacey flashed her magnificent smile. “I’ll hold your coat, but only if you forget I have it.” She winked.

“You’re pushing my boundaries,” Meredith automatically informed her.

Ironically—since she’d just denoted the desire to break free of those limitations herself.

“This evening, Mere…” Lacey fiercely told her—infusing Meredith with her own verve, by virtue of Lacey’s enthusiasm and confidence—“You have no boundaries!”

She really was about to become a whole new Meredith Carlisle.

She started toward the entrance to Tristan’s bar with purpose.

Just as a tall, dark and devilish cowboy hopped out of the driver’s side of his Super-Duty truck, whipped off his black Stetson and tossed it onto the seat behind him before raking a hand through his midnight hair, making the thick strands stand a little on end, in the sexiest damn way.

Meredith’s gaze swept over his wide, powerful, fully ripped body—then connected with the most mesmerizing, slate-blue irises she’d ever seen.

He grinned.

Her breath caught.

Oh. My. God.

Miraculously, she didn’t fall right out of her skyscraping heels as she walked past the hunky, hotter-than-hell stranger.

Her pulse suddenly raced and there was a distinct tingle between her legs that made her gasp—and recall Lacey’s words.

No boundaries.

“Holy hell,” she muttered, once out of earshot—and as every single nerve ending within her ignited. Tonight’s bolder, more daring Meredith asked, “Who is that man—and how do I get him into my bed?”