"Hello?" Twyla Twitt propped the telephone receiver on her shoulder as she dug through the refrigerator. She almost dropped the phone as she reached for the milk carton. "No. I’m not looking for a hunk. I want photographs and personal data. Yeah…you know...their interests and favorite food. What they look for in a woman--Huh? Sure, this is for real. I think a lot of women out there would buy this magazine."

The doorbell buzzed. She turned around, wrapping herself in the telephone cord. "Look...someone’s at the door. Send me what you have. Bye."

Twyla dropped the receiver in the cradle as she passed the sofa and hurried across the living room. She jerked the heavy door open, the telephone cord tightened around her ankles and she landed flat on her stomach, "Oomph!"

She sputtered and blinked to focus. Brushing her blond hair out of her face, she came eye to eye with the shoes of her visitor. These were not her sister Jewel’s tiny feet; these were huge dusty cowboy boots. Her eyes blazed a path up faded denim jeans and stopped on a large silver belt buckle. Oh no. It couldn’t be!

"Of all the stupid, dumb, idiotic things to do." Twyla bent sideways and tried to untangle the cord. "Just a minute please. As you can see...I’m a little tied up…at the moment. Darn old cord!"

A deep chuckle brought her gaze up again to meet the sexy green eyes of the man squatting before her. He wasn’t her old beau as she had first thought, but he was definitely a cowboy. She was both relieved and irritated at the same time. She had no idea what she would say to Luke if he ever showed up again--the big jerk.

"Need some help?" The stranger held out his hand.

Was he blind? Of course, she could use some help. But for the life of her, she could not find her voice. His rugged male presence literally took her breath away. She nodded and found herself immediately swept up into strong arms. He carried her across the room, with ease, and set her down on the sofa.

"Does this happen often?" His brow furrowed while he attempted to unwind the mischievous phone cord. "You could get hurt doing a fool thing like this."

She shot him a steely look and wished he would disappear in a blink of an eye...zap! "I’ve only tripped twice since I put in the hundred-foot telephone cord," she admitted with arms crossed defiantly.

His smiled broadened. "Haven’t you heard of cordless?"

Twyla closed her eyes and fumed. When she opened them, he wasn’t looking at her. He was struggling to unwind the cord from her ankles. She noticed the fall of his dark wavy hair, the thick kind women love to run their fingers through. He pulled the last bit of cord away and gently rubbed her reddened ankles with his big rough hands, sending delightful little shivers up her legs.

"Of course I’ve heard of cordless, but then I couldn’t have my Garfield phone." She pointed at the large, bright orange, cartoon-character telephone sitting on the table beside the sofa. "I love that telephone."

His gaze followed her gesture. "Oh, I see. Garfield, huh? Are you a cat lover?"

She had to smile. Boy, did he ask all the wrong questions! "Only of one fat and very contented feline named Tuna."

At the sound of his name, the twenty-five-pound, cream-colored cat bounded into the room. He jumped up on the sofa beside Twyla and blinked big, round, baby blue eyes at her adoringly. His loud contented purr vibrated the air around them.

The cowboy brushed off his knees. "That’s not a house cat, that’s half mountain lion!" He chuckled and reached over to pet Tuna.

Twyla smiled. She couldn’t help herself. He liked cats. Good. But who in the heck was this guy? Her curious thoughts must have coincided with his. Their eyes met at the exact moment their fingers touched on the cat’s fur coat. Sparks! Did she feel sparks run up her fingertips?

"Hey, I don’t know where my manners have gone. I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Brad Denton, first-class photographer at your service." He bowed his head, then looked up at her with a killer grin. "I came about the ad?"

She couldn’t stop staring at him. "The…ad?"

"Heroes and Hunks Magazine? You wanted a professional photographer?"

Yeah, well, she wanted a lot of things, but they didn’t walk right in the front door every day. He could be applying for any page in the magazine. He fit them all--except professional photographer. She had planned to acquire a female photographer, someone who could bring out the best in a man’s expression on film and make the reader’s feminine hearts flutter. No, a cowboy would not do a good job.

"Yes, I do need a professional photographer, but excuse me for saying so...you really don’t look the type."

"What do you mean? You haven’t even seen my work." He looked into Tuna’s big eyes as he scrunched the huge cat’s furry neck. "I do great work."

Tuna purred louder and turned belly-up for a tummy rub. The darn cat believed every word that rolled over this smooth operator’s tongue.

Enough was enough. Twyla walked toward the door. This was important business and she had the right to be selective in whom she hired. "I’m sorry. You aren’t exactly what I’m looking for in an assistant."

She held the door open and studied him as he walked over to join her. Tall, lean, and hard-muscled described him very well. He looked like an all-star athlete, except for his cowboy apparel. She shook off the dazzling effect he had on her. She didn’t like cowboys and she avoided them at all costs. She had to for her own sanity. There would never be another Luke in her life…ever.

The cowboy paused and ran long fingers through his dark hair. "I have my portfolio out in the truck--"

"I’m sorry, no. I really do have to go now. Thanks for your help."

He walked so doggone slow Twyla practically shut the door on his boot heels. But what a confident swagger! She leaned against the closed door and released a long-held sigh. Talk about perfect material for her new venture! The man could be a walking advertisement for Heroes and Hunks Magazine. He was simply too yummy to dare think about for more than a minute. Why in the world would he apply for a job like this one?