Page 157 of Crossed Wires: The Complete Series

“Hello,” she croaked back, her mouth dry. Damn, was she flushing? “I am.”

The cowboy’s lips curled a little more, turning the smile into a very seductive grin. “Welcome to Farpoint. I hope Big Mac here has been treating you right so far?”

Harper nodded. It was the only thing she could do. That and stare with helpless lust at the man in the hat before her, reminding herself he was gay. That seemed so unfair. Who said God didn’t have a sense of humor, putting a man like this on the planet and then making him off-limits for…

The wild mental tantrum faded out of Harper’s mind, her stare falling on the other cowboy she’d noticed earlier as he joined Marc.

She let out a soft gasp.

Christ, he was?—

“G’day.” The cowboy stuck out his hand. Blue eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his hat. “I’m Keith Munroe, one of the hired hands here at Farpoint. Welcome to Australia, Ms. Shaw.”

If Harper didn’t love her brother so much, she’d curse him black and blue. She’d never been more aware of the fact she’d lived a very sheltered life until now. She wasn’t prepared for exposure to such raw manliness. If Marc Thompson was sinful temptation, mischievous charm and cocky flirtation wrapped in tight denim, Keith Munroe was potent strength, concentrated sexuality and rugged masculinity.

She stared at the cowboy, never more grateful for wearing sunglasses, even ones that cost her damn near a week’s pay.

He was broader in the chest than his companion and wider in the shoulders, but just as exquisite in his physique. His biceps strained against the cotton of his shirtsleeves, highlighting the sculptured form of his strength. The same potent power was barely concealed by tight jeans, the corded muscles of his thighs evident despite the material covering them.

Unable to stop herself, Harper slid her gaze to the cowboy’s groin. And jerked it up to his face again at the sight of a bulge as large as Marc’s trapped beneath his jeans.

Oh…

Realizing Keith still stood waiting for her to shake his hand, she snagged it in both of hers, giving it a somewhat frantic shake. “H-hello.” Damn it, her voice was still croaky. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Keith laughed. “Nice to be met.”

Warm heat filled Harper’s cheeks at the greeting. She smiled at him, unable to tear her stare away. A lock of blond hair—tinged with faint copper-red—tumbled over his forehead from beneath his hat, brushing long, thick lashes a shade darker. His face was more tanned than Marc’s, a little more creased, but none the lacking for it, and he had a hawkish nose, adding to the air of absolute control and power the man exuded. A fine strawberry-blond stubble dusted a square jaw and chin, drawing her eye to the open collar of his shirt where a hint of a tattoo peeked out at her.

Men like this didn’t exist in Chicago. At least, if they did, she’d never met them.

Of course you haven’t. Why would you? With the way you live? The way you cower in shadows? The way Andrew guards over you whenever he’s in town?

She slid her stare to Marc, fighting the urge to moan. The dark-haired cowboy with the cocky grin and devilish eyes was studying her, the faint hint of a dimple creasing his cheeks.

Damn it, unprepared or not, overprotected or not, inexperienced or not, if it wasn’t for the fact they were gay, she’d throw herself at both of them and offer her body for their pleasure. That was the complete opposite of her normal reaction to a gorgeous guy, and these two guys were more than gorgeous.

Of course, theyweregay, which, Harper guessed, made them the perfect company, especially for one as unprepared, overprotected and inexperienced as she. She could visually caress them all she wanted without fear of being?—

“Found that stuck cow, Big Mac,” Keith suddenly said, his focus moving to Ronnie.

For a jarring moment, Harper found herself at a loss, wishing his gaze was still holding hers.

Behind her, Ronnie let out a choked cough. “You did?”

Marc laughed, and Harper had to bite her lip at the longing that rained through her at the sound. “Bloody wanker.”

Keith’s gaze returned to Harper’s face. “Would you like to take a shower, Ms. Shaw? Freshen up after your long flights?”

She nodded, caught off guard by the question. And the disarming, unexpected notion of sharing a shower with Keith Munroe…andMarc Thompson.

Holy crap, even her imagination was taking this whole opposite thing to surreal levels.

“Excellent.” Keith smiled at Ronnie, an unreadable expression crossing his features, before swinging to face Marc. “Thomo, can you take Ms. Shaw to the homestead to meet Mrs. Sullivan? Big Mac and I need to have a talk about the cow.”

Marc tapped the brim of his hat. “Surely can, Blue.”

“I can do that,” Ronnie said, and for the first time it dawned on her the verbose cowboy who’d collected her from the airport had hardly said a word since alighting from the pickup. “I thought I saw Hazel’s truck here when we drove through the gates, otherwise I would have taken Ms. Shaw there straightaway.”