Shut Up And Kiss Me. Sara Orwig

done a lot of work for John Frates because we’ve known each other all our lives.”

      “You’re a lot younger than John Frates.”

      She smiled at him. “Thanks, but you don’t know how old I am.”

      “I’d guess twenty-eight,” Mike said, his gaze drifting up and down her.

      “Guessing a woman’s age is a risky business. I’m thirty.”

      “Ten years younger than John.”

      “You remember his age?” She shot Mike a surprised glance.

      “I had to know a lot about John before we went to get him. Personal information helps.”

      As she smiled at him, Mike suspected she knew a lot about his background. They talked while they drove through small towns and across the Texas countryside until finally they reached the outskirts of a town, where a rock wall held a sign that read Welcome to Stallion Pass.

      “So where’s the pass?”

      “There isn’t one. It goes back to an early-day legend of an Apache warrior who fell in love with a cavalryman’s daughter. The soldiers killed the warrior, and according to legend, his ghost was a wild, white stallion that forever roamed these parts looking for his true love. According to the legend, whoever caught the stallion would find love. Anyway, the town got the name Stallion Pass because there have been wild, white stallions around these parts forever.”

      “Is there one now?”

      “The last one I heard about was fairly recent. One of the ranchers here caught a white stallion. He passed it on to one of his friends, who gave it to another friend.”

      “And did love come to them?”

      She smiled. “All of those guys are married now—you be the judge.”

      Mike smiled back at her. “You can be charming when you want to be.”

      “So can you, Mike. Truce?”

      “Until we talk about babies and settling in small towns.”

      She wrinkled her nose but didn’t challenge him. “Now we’re coming into the central part of Stallion Pass. This town was established right after the Civil War because there was an early fort outside of town. Then the railroad came through here and the town boomed. The Frateses were one of the early families. So were the Clays. Most people have stayed. There’s a lot of oil money here, lots of ranches in the area, a refinery, some small industry in Stallion Pass, so we have a prosperous town. There’s a museum, a civic center, a fine aquarium and botanical gardens.”

      She pointed out sights to him while he looked at two new hotels a block from an older, renovated one. “That’s the Wentworth Hotel, one of the oldest in Texas, although not as old as the Menger in San Antonio. Across the street is the best steak house in these parts, Murphy’s Steakhouse. It’s excellent. A few blocks over is an equally good restaurant—only, barbecue is the specialty.”

      He looked at sights she pointed out, realizing that “prosperous” was an understatement. The town looked like the product of both old and new money, with its fancy shops, restaurants and office buildings surrounding a green, tree-shaded town square with a large, three-tiered fountain gushing sparkling water.

      The houses around town were old and well-kept, but as he and Savannah drove out of town, the houses changed to newer structures. Soon Savannah turned between iron gates into an area of enormous mansions.

      He saw a sign that read Woodbridge and gazed beyond it at sprawling, well-tended lawns and multicolored flowerbeds.

      “Looks like there’s a lot of money in this little town,” Mike said, looking at a mansion set back from the road, a winding, tree-lined drive leading up to the front door. “It’s not going to do you any good to show me the house I can inherit,” he said quietly. “This isn’t my style.”

      “What is your style, Mike?”

      “Small apartments, my books, my bike. I don’t have a lot of possessions. I’ve lived on military bases and moved around a lot.”

      “The house comes furnished,” she said as she turned up the long, winding drive.

      “That won’t matter,” he replied. Mike looked at the three-story, redbrick Georgian. White columns supported the roof of a wide front porch.

      “This is the Frateses’ home, which you have now inherited.” She stopped and turned off the engine.

      He caught her wrist, instantly more aware of the physical contact than what he was about to tell her. “This is a waste of time. I was never meant for a house like this. I’ve never even dreamed of a house like this.”

      “So sell it and get something you like. Right now, it’s yours, so let’s go look at it. C’mon.” She twisted her wrist out of his light grasp and climbed out.

      Mike got out, too, and walked around, truly not interested in the house and unable to relate to it in any manner.

      He stood in the enormous front hallway and looked at the crystal chandelier overhead, the winding staircase and the elegant furnishings. She caught his hand. “Come with me.”

      Once again, the moment she touched him, he was focused completely on her. He went upstairs with her and knew where she was taking him before they entered a little girl’s bedroom filled with toys, pink ruffles and fancy white furniture.

      “I figured this was where we were going,” he said when she stopped in the middle of the room and dropped his hand.

      “This is what you’re taking her away from.”

      “You’re a smart lawyer. I’m sure you can work out something.”

      “While I work out something, she’ll belong to the state. Those bureaucratic things take lots of time and red tape.”

      “So you told me,” he said. “The answer is still no.”

      She turned to stare at him. “I think you’re being incredibly selfish. You could take Jessie and have all this! Hire a staff to care for her.”

      “If I took her, I couldn’t live with that,” he said quietly, wanting to leave.

      “Instead, you’ll give her up to strangers,” Savannah said, fire flashing in the depths of her eyes.

      Mike felt his own temper rise. “Why don’t you take her? You’re so all-fired eager to get Jessie someone who cares. Though I am surprised you care. You’re—” He broke off.

      “What?” she asked, looking amused. “Hard?”

      He gazed into her eyes and shook his head. “Tough, but never hard. There isn’t a hard part in you. You’re delectably soft,” he said quietly, watching her blink and realizing for once he had caught her so by surprise that she hadn’t been able to hide it. “Maybe you’re stubborn and aggressive, but definitely soft.”

      “Me, stubborn? You take the prize.”

      “I’ll tell you one thing I am,” he said in the same quiet voice, aware of her as a woman, inhaling her perfume, standing only a few feet from her. “I’m curious. Before I get on that plane to D.C., I’d like to satisfy my curiosity.” He moved closer and slid his hand behind her head.

      He expected her to step back and snap at him, but when she didn’t, he looked into her eyes and saw she wasn’t going to say no. He saw the same curiosity he had.

      He leaned the last bit of distance and brushed her lips with his, and then his mouth settled on hers. Her mouth was a warm, soft invitation, her lips parting and her sweet breath rushing out.

      The moment his tongue touched hers, he felt a jolt. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, and discovered he had been right. She was all soft curves.

      To his surprise, as he kissed her, the