Chapter One I was doing decline push ups when my office door opened. Decline push ups cause a lot of blood to rush to your head and a fabulous burn across the upper pectorals. They also looked pretty damn silly in a professional environment. Luckily, this wasn't a professional environment. Somebody was quietly watching me, probably admiring my near-perfect form or the way my tee shirt rippled across my broad shoulders. Either way, I rattled off twenty more, completing my set of a hundred. In a distinctive country twang, a man's voice said, "I could come back." "And miss my near-perfect form?" I eased my running shoes off the desk and immediately felt a wave of light-headedness. Granted, I didn't entirely mind the light-headedness. I am, after all, a sucker for a good buzz. The man who came swimmingly into view was wearing a cowboy hat and leaning against my door frame, a bemused expression on his weathered face. He was about twenty years my senior. "Howdy partner," I said. He tipped his Stetson. "So what are those push ups supposed to do, other than cause a lot of blood rush to your head?" "That's enough for me," I said happily. "Oh, and they happen to be a hell of a chest workout." "Seems like a lot of trouble," he said. "It's not easy being beautiful." "Ah," he said. "You must be Jim Knighthorse. I heard about