Expecting...in Texas. Marie Ferrarella

      “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

      The words uttered by the minister abruptly drew Savannah back to the wedding. What was wrong with her? This was Vanessa’s moment. She was here to share it with her, not relive one night of passion best forgotten.

      Two

      “You came back.”

      Only ten minutes into the wedding reception, Savannah’s stomach merged with her heart and both instantly raced for her throat. She wasn’t sure just which won the narrow space for its own as she turned around to face Cruz for the first time since that heated encounter in the stables.

      Dressed in a black, embroidered western jacket and a light blue shirt that made his complexion that much more romantically olive, Cruz was standing behind her, a glass of punch in each hand.

      It must have been her stomach that won the race, Savannah reasoned. Because her heart had stopped. Completely.

      Cruz nodded toward the glasses, his smile unfurling like warm brandy sipped slowly on a cold day. “I seem to find myself with two glasses. Would you like to help me out and take one?”

      She became aware that she was smiling in return. Widely. Savannah reminded herself that there was absolutely no reason for her to behave like a tongue-tied adolescent. Yes, he was beautiful, and yes, they had made wild, wonderful, passionate love together. But in the greater scheme of things, that meant nothing.

      Nothing, except that their night of lovemaking had produced a baby. A baby she wasn’t ever going to let Cruz know was his. Because she would never tie him to her. Not with bonds—like her parents—forged out of guilt.

      Savannah inclined her head as she took the glass. “I guess I could, just this once.”

      She looked at the way the red punch caught the sun within it and gleamed invitingly. Almost as invitingly as Cruz’s eyes had that night.

      And now.

      She raised her eyes to his. “And why wouldn’t I come back for my best friend’s wedding?”

      “No reason.” He shrugged. His eyes traveled over the soft contours of her face. Savannah felt as if he were actually touching her. “Except that you left so quickly the last time we were together. When I woke, you were gone. I thought that perhaps it was something I’d said. Or done.”

      His smile was so sensual that she struggled to keep her mind on the conversation.

      Yes, it was something you’d done. You completely unraveled me, made me behave so that I didn’t even recognize myself. And then made me want more.

      Savannah took a long sip before she spoke, her throat suddenly too parched to house dust.

      “I had to get back.” She purposely looked past his head as she spoke. “I had papers to grade. It was the end of the semester—the end of the year,” she corrected, silently chastising herself for stumbling.

      But while she’d always been very self-assured in her chosen professional life as an elementary school teacher, her personal one, especially since Reese had left, was another matter entirely. Even before Reese had broken her heart by breaking off their engagement, she had never been very experienced when it came to men.

      That was probably why he’d strayed and ultimately left, she had come to realize. Because she wasn’t exciting enough to hold him. All he’d wanted, apparently, was a woman who was as empty of mind as she was well endowed of body.

      But Savannah had always been praised more for her mind than her looks. She was not the type who instantly attracted men. That was part of the reason she’d been so flattered by Cruz and his attention. He could have had any woman—and there had been plenty at the party. Yet he’d singled her out.

      She couldn’t help wondering why.

      “Good.” Pleased, he nodded his head. “Then it wasn’t me. What about now?”

      She didn’t understand. “Now?”

      “Will you be leaving tomorrow?” He raised one eyebrow, as if he could see right through her excuse, right through her. “More papers to grade?”

      Was he asking her because he wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t be around to become a problem? Or was he asking because he wanted to know whether she’d grown up a little, become a little more sophisticated?

      Savannah couldn’t make up her mind which it was. Not when she was being so distracted by the look in his eyes, by the way his lips moved when he spoke. There was no doubt about it— Cruz Perez was raw sex and sensuality, served up on a section of delicious toast.

      It was a crisp September afternoon. There was even a bit of a chill in the wind. Yet she felt so warm, as if the air around her were heated by his presence.

      It took a moment, but she finally found her voice, and with it a little bit of conviction. “No, no papers to grade.”

      “Oh. Right. It’s too early.” He looked at her knowingly. “You’re one of the nice teachers.”

      “One of the nice teachers?” she echoed, not sure what he was driving at. Was he referring to some sort of exclusive club? Whatever it was, he’d called her nice, and she liked that. Liked thinking that he’d meant it. “What makes you say that?”

      “Instinct,” he said, sounding sincere.

      His mother was the “seer” around here, the one who had dreams she claimed came true. It was only so in about a third of the cases, although no one went out of their way to point the fact out to her. But even so, if there was a scrap of truth about her abilities, maybe they were passed on. Maybe he’d inherent a smattering of it himself. Because he was beginning to sense things about Savannah Clark, things that he found enticing and pleasing.

      Casually, Cruz threaded his arm around her shoulders.

      He had no way of knowing how intimate that felt to her, Savannah thought. Or maybe he did, and that was the whole point of it. She struggled not to enjoy the feeling as much as she did. Allowing herself to venture deeper into the trap really wouldn’t help anything in the long run.

      But logic didn’t seem to be working for her today, she thought. Magic was. His magic.

      “I always used to hate it when the teachers would give long assignments the first week of school,” he confided. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that they did it to get back at us because they had to return from their vacations and work again.”

      Habit made her protective of her vocation. “That’s not true. It’s to get students back into a thinking mode after they’ve been playing all summer.” And Savannah didn’t have to ask to know that Cruz had been one of those students who had played the hardest and the longest.

      “There’s nothing wrong with playing.” His mouth curved a little more deeply, drawing her in further still. “It can be hard work, too.”

      Not for him, she thought. For him, it came naturally. Like breathing. Like kissing.

      “Maybe you’re right.”

      His face turned toward hers, Cruz lightly touched the outline of her pearl drop earring and sent it swaying ever so slightly.

      “So,” he asked softly, “you like to stimulate your students?”

      Her blood was beginning to roar through her veins, like Indy-500 stock cars revving up their engines. She had to concentrate on each word to get it out.

      “Getting them to think for themselves is always a good thing.”

      He smiled to himself, seeing the effect he was having on her. That it heightened his own excitement was a bonus in the bargain.

      “And you are an expert on that?” he teased. “On thinking?”

      Her knees felt like water.