Tempting A Texan. Carolyn Davidson

her gaze to touch upon the delaying tactic. “I can see you’re very busy,” she said, and rising, touched her index finger to her cheek. “I really only dropped by to remind you of the party tomorrow night at the Millers’ home. I’ve told them we would attend.”

      Nicholas dropped the paper from his hand and looked up, his gaze ascending the lush figure of the woman before him. “You shouldn’t have done that, Patience. I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

      Her smile was cool. “Perhaps not, but we have become something of an item of late. People expect us to arrive at such gatherings together. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” She took small steps, circling the side of his desk and approaching him with her hand outstretched. Long, slender fingers touched the sleeve of his suit coat and she smiled invitingly into his eyes. “Perhaps I misunderstood your interest in me, Nicholas.”

      He felt perspiration break out in a narrow line down his spine, and at the same time he was chilled and angered by the thought of being manipulated in such a way. His gaze dropped to where her hand lay against his arm and, for an instant, he felt her grip tighten, then relax, sliding from its place until her fingers held the strings of her reticule and he was set free from the contact.

      “Perhaps you misunderstood, or maybe I was at fault, even premature, in my interest in you, Patience.” Cruelty was not normally in his nature, but this must be brought to a halt.

      He thought he saw genuine surprise in her features as she looked up at him, and then it was masked and her smile became practiced and serene. “Well, we’ll see what the future holds, won’t we?” she said enigmatically.

      And wasn’t that the truth? He watched her leave, unimpressed by the same movement of hips he’d found fascinating only a week since. His smile was rueful, remembering again the sight of Carlinda’s stocking-clad calves and ankles. Indeed the memory was constantly at the surface of his mind, and he straightened the papers before him with precise movements as he attempted to erase his errant reaction to the woman.

      A glance at his pocket watch assured him he would not be amiss in leaving for home. The dinner hour was becoming increasingly important in his everyday scheme of things this week, and he would not insult Katie by making her put the meal on hold while she awaited his appearance at the table.

      The walk was short, his pace brisk, and he approached his home with an ear open to Amanda’s presence. The child was increasingly vocal; he’d noticed her laughter ringing out even early in the morning, her cheerful voice greeting him from the porch each afternoon when the bank closed and he hastened to make his way from town.

      Today, he heard her chanting a singsong rhyme, and slowed his pace, hoping to come upon her unaware. The high hedge at the corner of his lot hid her from his view and he halted there, peering like a voyeur beyond its boundaries to where the child played on the front sidewalk leading to the porch. He’d had cement poured from the street to the house, providing a dry passageway in inclement weather, and Katie had planted flowers on either side of its length.

      Amanda stood ten feet or so from the porch, a rope tied to a pillar swinging in a circular motion, while her nursemaid jumped across it in perfect rhythm, her feet moving in time to the chanting song coming from Amanda’s lips. Her skirts caught up in both hands, Carlinda’s slender ankles were thoroughly exposed, and then she missed her step, and the rope tangled around one foot as she came to a quick halt.

      “You did real good,” Amanda cried out as Carlinda’s mouth formed a downward turn. “You’ll get it yet,” the child said, laughing aloud.

      And then Carlinda turned, catching sight of Nicholas at the end of the walk, one hand on the gate. Her cheeks burned crimson and her fingers dropped her skirts to press instead on the rosy skin, covering the embarrassment she could not conceal.

      “Oh! I didn’t know you were there,” she said, her breasts lifting as she inhaled deeply. “Amanda was teaching me a new song to—”

      He held up a hand, his amusement knowing no bounds as the woman’s usual dignity deserted her. Her hair was coming down on one side, the curls totally out of control, and as he watched, one hand thrust itself into the mass of russet hair and caught it up at the crown of her head. Her fingers were deft as she rearranged several pins, and he was fascinated by the process. The sunlight cast a warm glow upon her head, and the rich, dark tresses seemed lit from within by glints of gold and tipped by fire.

      He wanted her. As he’d never wanted another woman, he wanted this creature before him. Carlinda. Linnie. Lin, perhaps. And at that thought, he became aware of the taut formation of his masculinity within the confines of his trousers. His hat provided cover as he swept it from his head and then held it before him, opening the gate with his other hand.

      Tonight. Tonight he would approach her, speak to her. She was a mature woman. Perhaps he could offer an arrangement that would benefit them both, and relieve this urge that kept him from his daily pursuits. He felt young and impetuous, like a stallion seeking out a mare, or a youth settling upon his first conquest. It would not do. It simply would not do.

      “One day, could you teach me how to sing the song, Amanda?” he suggested with a grin, determined to take his attention from the mature woman who was swiftly regaining her breath and brushing down her skirts with a quick hand. “We can take turns swinging the rope while your Miss Donnelly jumps it.”

      Miss Donnelly shook her head, a movement that almost sent her hastily pinned hairdo on its way to disaster once again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea at all,” she said heatedly. “In fact, I fear you are making jokes at my expense, sir.”

      Nicholas only smiled. And then relented. “Not at all, ma’am. I’m only asking to join in the fun. I haven’t seen rope skipping since I was a schoolboy.”

      “You were a schoolboy?” Carlinda asked, doubt alive in the words. “I can’t imagine such a thing. I’d have thought you were hatched full-grown. I can’t think you ever played marbles or chased after a dog or wrestled with your playmates.”

      He felt a pang of regret that she had hit the nail so squarely on the head; for indeed, he’d never pursued any of the typical boyish games she listed so readily. But his words covered those memories as he sat down on the porch steps.

      “I was just an ordinary—”

      “Ordinary?” Her single word doubted his statement. “I think not,” she said, judging him, her look grave as she stood before him. “You can’t claim that, Mr. Garvey.”

      Her eyes touched his briefly, then darted to where Amanda stood, jump rope in hand, her small fingers attempting to untie it from the porch pillar. “Let me help you,” Carlinda said smoothly, as if she had not just peered with soft brown eyes into his past.

      Dinner was presented with pride, Katie beaming as she brought forth a platter of sliced ham and bowls of vegetables. Bread still warm from the oven tempted him with its aroma and he looked up at his housekeeper, lifting a brow in question. “I find your cooking to be improving daily. Are you trying to impress our guests?”

      She lifted her chin, a haughty gesture that amused him. “Certainly not, sir. I always do my best.” And then her eyes twinkled as she bent to murmur words beneath her breath. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, Mr. Garvey. Sprucing up for our guests?”

      He’d have to see about instilling a bit more respect into her thoroughly Irish demeanor, he thought, ignoring the taunt. Looking up, he met the sober eyes of his young charge, the niece he’d never known. Now she held her plate in both hands, awaiting his attention, and he lifted a slice of ham to rest at one side, then spooned potatoes and creamed corn as she nodded her approval.

      “Will you be here this evening?” Carlinda asked as he attended to her plate in the same manner. She waited patiently as he served her, shaking her head in a small movement as he would have added another helping of greens.

      “Yes, I expect to be,” he said. “Do you have plans for me?”

      “Oh, no. I just thought we might discuss plans for Amanda’s