Lone Star Twins. Cathy Gillen Thacker

on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Since when have we parsed words or dealt with something other than the truth?”

      Poppy raked her teeth across the delectable plumpness of her lower lip. “Never.”

      “So what’s the problem, then?”

      She stared at the open collar of his shirt. “The fact we didn’t make love makes us—our whole union—look suspect.”

      “Well, then,” Trace drawled, taking her in his arms and doing what he should have done the night before, would have done if she hadn’t been so skittish and he hadn’t been so damned jet-lagged. “There is only one way to fix that.”