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  CURVY FOR HIM: THE LAWYER AND THE COWBOY

  ANNABELLE WINTERS

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  THE CURVES FOR SHEIKHS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Sheikh

  Flames for the Sheikh

  Hostage for the Sheikh

  Single for the Sheikh

  Stockings for the Sheikh

  Untouched for the Sheikh

  Surrogate for the Sheikh

  Stars for the Sheikh

  Shelter for the Sheikh

  Shared for the Sheikh

  Assassin for the Sheikh

  Privilege for the Sheikh

  Ransomed for the Sheikh

  Uncorked for the Sheikh

  Haunted for the Sheikh

  Grateful for the Sheikh

  Mistletoe for the Sheikh

  Fake for the Sheikh

  THE CURVES FOR SHIFTERS SERIES (USA)

  Curves for the Dragon

  Born for the Bear

  Witch for the Wolf

  Tamed for the Lion

  Taken for the Tiger

  THE CURVES FOR SHEIKHS SERIES (UK)

  Curves for the Sheikh (UK)

  Flames for the Sheikh (UK)

  Hostage for the Sheikh (UK)

  Single for the Sheikh (UK)

  Stockings for the Sheikh (UK)

  Untouched for the Sheikh (UK)

  Surrogate for the Sheikh (UK)

  Stars for the Sheikh (UK)

  Shelter for the Sheikh (UK)

  Shared for the Sheikh (UK)

  Assassin for the Sheikh (UK)

  Privilege for the Sheikh (UK)

  Ransomed for the Sheikh (UK)

  Uncorked for the Sheikh (UK)

  Haunted for the Sheikh (UK)

  Grateful for the Sheikh (UK)

  Mistletoe for the Sheikh (UK)

  Fake for the Sheikh (UK)

  THE CURVES FOR SHIFTERS SERIES (UK)

  Curves for the Dragon

  Born for the Bear

  Witch for the Wolf

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  Copyright © 2019 by Annabelle Winters

  All Rights Reserved by Author

  www.annabellewinters.com

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  Cover Design by S. Lee

  CURVY FOR HIM: THE LAWYER AND THE COWBOY

  ANNABELLE WINTERS

  1

  CADE

  “Steady, Girl,” I say, holding the reins tight as my horse comes to a hard stop and almost tosses me over her head before rearing up and almost tossing me off her the other way. But this isn’t my first rodeo, and I hang on and grin when I see what’s got my young filly spooked.

  I sit up straight on my well-worn saddle, my breathing calm and steady. A horse takes its cue from its rider, its owner, its master. My calmness will flow into this restless filly, reassure this young beast that I’m going to take care of the danger, make it go away.

  She calms down immediately, and I stroke her neck and then slide off her smooth side, stepping lightly with my boots and pulling the brim of my hat low to protect my eyes from the afternoon sun. It’s not too hot today, which is why I’ve got a fat old rattlesnake sunning itself right in my path.

  My grin widens as I hear the telltale warning of the rattler. I know it well, and my eyes mist over as I think back to when I was seven and my grandfather showed me how to handle these snakes, showed me that they were God’s creatures just like I was, that they had the same rights to this land as I did.

  “Howdy,” I say. “If you’d be so kind as to do your sunbathing elsewhere, my horse and I would be greatly obliged.” I speak to the snake like we know each other, looking it directly in its cold dark eyes as I approach it slowly, casually, taking a wide berth and slowly circling closer and closer. I’ve been bitten a hundred times in my long, messy life, and I always carry anti-venom and a patch-up kit. But I can’t afford to get bitten today.

  My mood darkens as I remind myself that I’m gonna have to ride off my land today, leave the isolation of my ranch, head to the goddamn city and deal with another lawsuit that my ex-wife has tossed at me. Another one of many in the ten years since we’ve been divorced. I’ve instructed my lawyers to just settle with her every time. Even though I handed over an honest fifty-percent of my net worth when we divorced, she wants more every few years. Yeah, it pisses me off, but I still tell my lawyers to just cut a check and settle out of court. I don’t need much money and I have plenty of it. It’s worth every penny to not have to deal with that woman, deal with the biggest mistake of my life.

  A mistake I’ll never make again.

  Fury rips through me as I whip my arm forward and grab the rattler by the head just as it lunges at me. I almost black out from the rush of adrenaline, but I clamp down with my fingers and thumb, my grip tight enough to prevent the snake from striking and loose enough so I won’t hurt it. I know I can crush its tiny skull in a moment, and that’s why I won’t. That’s what power is: Knowing what you can do, what you’re capable of doing, but controlling yourself even when the rage flows through you like a river gone wild.

  I hold the snake up as my filly backs up. But she knows she’s safe. This is a learning experience for the young horse. Now she knows that I’ll protect her. She knows she can trust me. Now she’s mine. Now I truly own her.

  With a grunt I toss the rattler off the path and wait until it slithers away between some sun-baked rocks. Then I sigh and mount up again, pulling my Stetson low and squinting up at the sun as I dig my heels in and test out my filly’s speed on the packed dirt of the trail.

  Minutes later my ranch-house comes into view, and I’m there in a flash. I take my filly to the stables and brush her down and water her. Then with another sigh I make my way to the main ranch-house, sprawling and magnificent, built by my family almost a hundred years ago.

  “No way she takes this,” I say as I strip naked in the downstairs bathroom and step into the ice-cold shower, raising my arms up and letting the twin jets blast the grime and grease off my hard body. I feel my muscles contract, and I smile as I soap myself up, the ridges of my sculpted body reminding me that I’m in control, that I’m the master of myself and everything that happens in my world. This too shall pass.

  But soon I’m frowning as I think about the lawsuit. This time my ex refused to settle. This time she wants more than just a handout. This time she wants my house. She wants my land. Land that’s a part of me. Part of my history. I was born in this house, on this land. And I’ll die here.

  Calmness slowly returns as I let the cold water hit my face. I rub my stubble, which has streaks of gray highlighting my natural brown, reminding me that time proceeds ever onward. It’s been ten years since I kicked that woman out of my life. Ten years since I took a vow to never go down that path again. Ten years since I’ve taken a woman into my life, into my bed, into my heart.

  My eyes flick open as I soap up my crotch and feel my cock filling out as if in anticipation. It puzzles me, and I look down at myself. I don’t pleasure myself with my own hands. A real man doesn’t do that, and I’ve always taken
pride in that sort of control over my body. But the arousal coursing through me takes me by surprise, and I’m suddenly hard as a rock, my balls tight and heavy as I stare down at my massive cock standing straight out like a log over a river.

  My erection stays with me as I get dressed, and it’s a goddamn pain to squeeze my cock into my tailored suit. I look at myself in the mirror and almost laugh at the bulge that’s so unmistakable that I wonder if I’ll be charged with a crime showing up in a court of law like this.

  It’s fucking bizarre, I think as I get into my truck and realize I have to push the seat back just so my goddamn cock doesn’t get in the way of the steering wheel! What the hell is going on? Has ten years of celibacy driven this cowboy insane? For a moment I wonder if I’m subconsciously looking forward to seeing my ex-wife again. I barely leave my ranch these days, and it’s been years since I even saw a woman! Fuck, maybe I am insane. Who goes ten years denying himself the most basic need in life? The need for sex. The need to take a mate. The need to damn well fuck!

  My mind is squirming like a nest of rattlers, and a memory long forgotten floats back on the breeze. I see myself and my grandfather, the old man and the young boy, both of us standing on our land, watching two snakes move together like they’re dancing or maybe fighting.

  “What are they doing?” I’m asking Grandpa, even though a part of me knows what they’re doing.

  The old man gives me a lopsided grin as he tips his hat. “The dance of life,” he says softly. “The dance of destiny. They’ve found each other, and they’re rejoicing in the simplest, most basic form of pleasure. This is what it’s all about, kid. Someday you’ll find that joy. Find your destiny. Your mate. Your girl.”

  We stare as the snakes slip away into the hardy brush to finish their dance, and I squint up at Grandpa. I feel funny inside. “How did they find each other?” I ask, when what I mean is, “How will I find my girl?”

  Grandpa just laughs, putting his hand over my shoulder as we turn back towards the ranch-house. “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that, kid. Someday life will put you face-to-face with her.”

  “But how will I know she’s mine?” I ask, that funny feeling rising up in me, making me almost giddy with excitement.

  “Your body will tell ya,” says Grandpa. “A man’s body doesn’t lie, Kid. His mind lies to him all the time, but his body don’t give a shit about logic and reason and common sense. So when your body tells you it’s her, you take her. You take what’s yours, kid. Like a man does. Like every man’s done for a million years. You take her, kid. You ignore logic, reason, and fucking common sense and just take her. Step up and take her.”

  The memory is so vivid I can almost smell the tobacco and old leather, and before I know it I’m already parked outside the courthouse. Incredibly, I’m still hard as a horse in heat, and I seriously have to consider whether I can walk into a courtroom looking like this. But I can’t not show up. My lawyers warned me if I’m a no-show, the court could very well rule in my ex’s favor, passing a “No Contest” judgment against me. Then she gets the house and the land. My house. My land.

  Finally I take off my jacket and hold it in front of my crotch, grunting and adjusting my inseam as I make my way into the building. For a moment I’m wondering if there’s some sick part of my subconscious that wants to see my ex-wife again. After all, she’s the last woman I touched, albeit ten years ago. Not that it was some magnificent explosion of lust or anything—not for either of us. Shoulda listened to my body back then, but I’d been scrambling its signals by drowning myself in whiskey every night.

  I walk into the courtroom, and immediately I know I’m right. This isn’t about my ex-wife. Yeah, the woman’s taken care of herself over the years, but she has no hold on me, no hold on my mind, certainly no hold on my body.

  It’s the woman sitting next to my wife that’s got my attention. Dark hair, brown eyes, a pretty round face like an angel’s, big breasts that want to make me cry like a baby, an ass that makes me want to howl like a wolf, hips that make me want to snort like a stallion and place her firmly on my cock, make her ride me into the sunset as I buck up into her so hard she screams like an eagle in flight.

  Life will bring you face-to-face with her.

  Your body will tell you she’s yours.

  And then you take what’s yours.

  She’s mine, comes the thought as I gaze upon the curvy woman in the black business suit. The courtroom has faded away, and suddenly I know that every mistake I’ve made has led me to this moment, to this courtroom, to this woman.

  This woman who’s got all my attention.

  Every fucking inch of it.

  2

  CASSANDRA

  “I’d like to draw the court’s attention to the property assessment document,” I say, my voice trembling as I wonder what just happened. I can’t talk right, and I can barely keep my eyes focused on the stern-looking judge. It’s like my head is on a swivel, like it’s being turned towards the man sitting across the aisle to my left.

  I’d seen him the moment he walked into the courtroom: Tall and broad, with thick brown hair and stubble that was streaked with lines of silver. He wore a Stetson hat when he walked in, and as he respectfully took it off before sitting down next to his lawyers, I felt my heart skip a beat at the way he looked over at me.

  It was like he knew me.

  Like he wanted me.

  Like I was his.

  It confused the heck out of me. He barely even glanced at his ex-wife, even though she told me they hadn’t seen each other in ten years. But she means nothing to him, I could tell, and for some reason that made my heart beat even faster . . . like that meant something to me!

  My heart is still pounding as I present my case to the judge. It’s pretty simple, really: I’m arguing that when my client got her divorce settlement, the property value of the ranch and land was assessed too low. That’s not right, and so the ex-husband has to make it right. His lawyers had offered to settle for a very generous sum, and I urged my client to accept the offer. But she refused. She wants the land and everything on it. That might be pushing it—the judge isn’t going to award her the entire property—but SueAnn apparently thought her ex-husband wouldn’t show up in court, which would allow for a “No Contest” judgment against Cade.

  “He’s whacko,” she’d told me in our first meeting. “Reclusive and weird. Nobody’s seen him in like ten fucking years. He doesn’t leave his ranch. Spends his time alone with the snakes and horses. Probably fucks those horses too. Wouldn’t put it past him. The things he wanted to do to me when we were married! God, I’m lucky I got out in time! He might’ve killed me, you know!”

  You sound as whacko as your ex, I’d thought as I listened to this rail-thin, well-dressed woman talk about this man like he was the devil himself. The whole thing sounded like a bad idea, so bad I’d almost walked right out of that meeting. Actually I would have walked out if not for the fact that Cade had settled every prior lawsuit without any fuss, simply cutting a large check to SueAnn without even bothering to negotiate. This looked like easy money, I’d thought. After all, the lawyer gets a cut of the settlement, and I need the money. I’ve got my own loser ex, and since he was unemployed and broke when we split, guess who lost her house and is paying fucking alimony every month for some asshole to sit on a couch, smoke weed, and play video games! Talk about being young and stupid!

  Well, I’m not so young anymore, but I’m clearly as stupid if I screw up this case, I think as I clear my throat and do my best to listen to what Cade’s lawyer is saying. But the blood is pounding in my ears, and I feel myself yearning to look at this man again, this tall, silent cowboy who looks like he’s from another era, another world, another life.

  Finally I just give in and turn my head. It’s a mistake, because I can’t contain the gasp that emerges when I realize he’s looking directly at me. Has he been s
taring at me all this while? Somehow I know he has, and although it should creep me out, maybe even freak me out based on what SueAnn told me about him, it doesn’t. Instead it makes me feel . . . makes me feel like . . . like . . .

  I almost choke when I move my ass on the wooden chair and realize that my panties are wet, so wet that I’m soaking through the satin until I’m sure there’ll be a dark patch on the wood if I stand up. I blink so rapidly that I wonder if my eyelids are wings, and it’s only when I lower my gaze from the man’s dark green eyes that I’m able to breathe again.

  But then my breath catches once more when I see how he’s got his jacket draped over his lap in a strangely unnatural way. It’s also peaked in a strangely unnatural way. Ohmygod, is he . . . is that his . . . oh, my God!

  Cade leans over to his lawyer just as I’m certain that the man is sitting in a solemn courtroom with a goddamn hard-on the size of Devil’s Tower. I think back to what SueAnn told me about this man, about his twisted needs, how she’d filed for divorce shortly after their honeymoon, which was when they’d had sex for the first time—the only time. I frown as I glance at my client and then over at her ex-husband. It seems like an odd match, I think. This woman is jumpy, all nervous energy. And Cade seems like the complete opposite, calm and composed, dignified in his tailored suit, ruggedly handsome in a way that makes me think he’s from a different age, a different world.

  A world that I want to be part of.

  The thought comes to me like it’s obvious, and I blink and force myself to stop staring at Cade. I didn’t even realize I was staring at him until I feel SueAnn nudge me with her elbow.

  “Aren’t you going to respond?” she demands, her gray eyes wide. “They just asked for a dismissal! You need to respond!”

  I’m blinking like an idiot as I realize that I totally missed what Cade’s lawyers just said. A dismissal? Did I screw up? What the hell just happened? I shuffle the papers on the desk in front of me, wondering if I’m losing my shit. I never really wanted to be a lawyer—I just kinda applied to law school and got in. But I’m smart, and I’m good at this lawyer shit. I’m good in court. I don’t choke under pressure.