I Cross My Heart. Vicki Thompson Lewis

attribute her flush to the wine. She glanced at the bottle and discovered that it was empty. It dawned on her that Nash must have refilled their glasses at some point and she’d been having too much fun to notice.

      “I hadn’t thought of animals being tattletales,” she said. “I guess it’s a good thing they can’t talk. I lost my virginity to my then-boyfriend when his parents weren’t home, and as I remember, there was a cat lying on his desk. She probably saw the whole thing.”

      “Kinky.” He grinned at her. “Are you one of those women who likes having an audience?”

      “No, I most certainly do not! It was a cat, not a person. And frankly, it sort of freaked me out when I noticed her staring at us.” She took another swallow of wine and realized she was feeling extremely mellow. And all this talk of sex was turning her on. “Do you like an audience?” If he did, that would help cool her off. She wasn’t into that.

      Of course, she wasn’t supposed to be feeling hot in the first place. And she’d never bothered to record her long-term goal in her day planner, either. The double whammy of wine and sexy conversation made her wonder why boinking Nash would interfere with having her own television show someday. The extremely boinkable Nash Bledsoe was looking yummier by the minute.

      “I prefer privacy when I’m making love to a woman.” His voice had lowered to a sexy drawl and his blue gaze held hers. “I don’t like the idea of being interrupted.”

      Oh, Lordy. She could hardly breathe from wanting him. “Me, either.”

      He put down his glass and leaned toward her. “I have a confession to make.”

      “Me, too.”

      “Okay, you first, then.”

      She took another hefty swallow of wine, for courage. “You know when I claimed that this nice dinner wasn’t supposed to be romantic?”

      “Yeah.”

      “I lied.”

      “Oh, really?” His blue eyes darkened to navy. “Care to elaborate?”

      “See, you were this out-of-reach senior back in high school, and I was a nerdy freshman, so when you showed up today, I thought about flirting with you because now I actually have the confidence to do that. But then you offered to help repair the place, so I couldn’t flirt with you. But I still thought you were really hot. We shouldn’t have sex, though. At least, I didn’t think so this morning, but then I fixed up the dining room, and I admit you were on my mind while I did that. So I think secretly I wanted it to be romantic. But I—”

      “Do you always talk this much after two glasses of wine?” He’d moved even closer, bare inches away.

      She could smell his shaving lotion. Then she realized what that meant. He’d shaved before coming over here. That was significant. “I didn’t have two full glasses.”

      “I think you did.”

      She glanced at her wineglass, which was now empty. Apparently she’d been babbling and drinking at the same time. “You poured me a second glass.” When he started to respond, she stopped him. “But that’s okay, because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be admitting to you that I want you so much that I almost can’t stand it, and you wouldn’t be looking at me as if you actually might be considering the idea of…”

      “Of what?” He was within kissing distance.

      “This.” She grabbed his face in both hands and planted one on that smiling mouth of his. And oh, it was glorious. Nash Bledsoe had the best mouth of any man she’d ever kissed. Once she’d made the initial contact, he took over, and before she quite realized it, he’d pulled her out of her chair and was drawing her away from the table.

      “Bedroom,” he murmured between kisses. “Where is it?”

      She thought fast, or as fast as the wine would allow. “Follow me.” She eased out of his arms and took his hand. “And don’t look at anything.”

      “You’re all that I see.”

      Ah, he was good, this guy. He knew his lines, and she had a feeling he’d know the right moves, too. Shoving open the pocket door, she led him through the kitchen. Fortunately she’d turned out the light so it was dim in there.

      Her bedroom and bath were off the kitchen. She only had a twin bed, and the room’s color scheme was as pink as the bathroom and included ruffles. She didn’t think he’d care, though, especially if she didn’t turn on the light and he wasn’t faced with all the girlie frills from the get-go. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I have condoms.”

      “You do?” He sounded amused. “Since when?”

      “Since I went shopping today. And I told myself I wasn’t going to have sex with you, but then I thought, What if he seduces me but forgot the condoms?”

      “Good thought.”

      “I like covering my options.” Once they were inside her bedroom, she turned and moved into his arms. “Were you going to seduce me?”

      “No. Or I would have brought condoms.” He cupped her chin and turned her face up to his. “But I’m perfectly willing to be seduced.”

      “Oh, good.” With a sigh, she nestled against him. “Except I’m not so good at seduction. Not a lot of practice.”

      He laughed. “Then I’ll take it from here.”

      “Sure. That would be great.” Once he started kissing her again, she knew she’d made the right decision. This cowboy knew his way around a seduction. She was in the hands of a master.

      And what hands they were, too—large and strong, hands that could gentle a horse or excite a woman with equal skill. Because she’d bolted straight to city life after high school, she’d never been loved by a man who worked with his hands. Serious omission on her part.

      With the kind of dexterity that could repair a broken bridle or braid a rope, he unfastened the buttons down the front of her sleeveless blouse. And he did it while kissing the living daylights out of her. His tongue did things to her mouth that, if employed elsewhere on her body, would be illegal in some states. She hoped he was into breaking a law or two.

      The man also knew how to get a woman out of her bra, and once he did, he demonstrated how much he understood the sensitivity of breasts in general and nipples in particular. Oh, dear God. She trembled on the edge of an orgasm, and he’d only stroked her breasts.

      He lifted his mouth from hers. “You feel incredible.”

      “You, too.”

      Laughter rippled through his response. “You haven’t touched me yet.”

      Oh. She’d meant that his hands on her breasts felt incredible, but in her dazed state of pure pleasure, she’d abandoned her side of the deal. “Sorry.”

      His breath was warm as he nuzzled the spot behind her ear. “You don’t have a thing to be sorry about. You invited me into your bedroom and you have condoms. But I’d appreciate it if you’d unzip my jeans.”

      “Glad to.” She eased back and slid her hand down to reach for his zipper, where she discovered that the denim covering his crotch was stretched to the breaking point. Tugging down his zipper wouldn’t be easy, but once she did, She was in for a treat.

      She found the zipper tab, but the physics of the situation worked against her. She made no progress whatsoever.

      “Unfasten my belt buckle and the top snap, first.”

      She was amazed that he could even talk, considering the fact that he’d already unbuttoned and unzipped her capris and was presently working them down over her hips. That was enough to make her speechless, but not him, apparently. She turned her attention to his belt buckle.

      When she got it undone and managed to unhook