The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress / Lone Star Seduction: The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress. Jennifer Lewis

with excitement.

      She’d recently bought some sexy lingerie at Sweet Nothings in anticipation of becoming more intimate with Rick. She had it hidden away in the back of her dresser drawer so Alex wouldn’t stumble across it while looking for something.

      Now hopefully she’d finally get a chance to put it on—and watch Rick take it off.

      Justin pressed the button to raise the roof on his Porsche convertible. He wasn’t sure Alicia would appreciate the wind in her hair.

      Like every inch of her that he’d had the pleasure to see so far, her dark hair was silky smooth and perfectly groomed.

      And he was looking forward to seeing a lot more of her now that he’d have her all to himself, in his suite, for days—and nights—on end.

      He’d like to see desire flare in those big brown eyes, and run his eager hands all over her glowing olive skin.

      A wicked grin spread across his face.

      Then he wiped if off.

      Cool your jets. First of all, Alicia was traumatized by the fire at the ranch she shared with her brother. She needed his support, not his hands pawing all over her.

      Second, she had no idea who he really was.

      He cursed and tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel as he waited at a traffic light.

      Why did he have to call himself Rick Jones when he met her?

      Sure, he used the name often, but usually for making hotel reservations or when he met someone who had “gold digger” written all over her. There were definitely times when being Justin Dupree—of those Duprees—was a serious liability.

      Once people knew he had more money than God, they treated him differently. And he was tired of the society press tailing him like a bloodhound, looking for more stories for their gossip columns. Thanks to them, he now had an embarrassing reputation as a playboy that was really only half-deserved.

      Okay, maybe three-quarters. But that was all in the past.

      He was thirty now and more settled. He wasn’t so excited about partying all night. Lately, he wanted to spend quality time getting to know a woman before he slept with her.

      Take Alicia. How many dates had they been on? Maybe eight, and he still hadn’t slept with her.

      Or even kissed her.

      He blew out a breath. The light turned green and he honked his horn to get the car in front of him moving. Eight dates and not even a kiss on the lips? That was ridiculous. And he wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened, either.

      There was something so perfect about Alicia, so pure and sweet and gentle, that he never quite felt right about asking her back to his place. She was the kind of girl you’d send flowers to, the kind whose parents you’d chat with when you picked her up at her house. The kind you’d buy a corsage for on prom night.

      Except that they were both adults and her parents had been dead for years. Why did Alicia Montoya turn him from a hardened ladies’ man back into an eager and apprehensive schoolboy?

      He wove through traffic on the beltway and took the exit for Somerset. Alicia Montoya was something else, and he didn’t mind waiting for the chance to weave his fingers into her soft hair.

      “I’m not Rick Jones.” How hard was it to just say it?

      One snag was that Alex knew him. He’d used the alias partly so he could ask Alicia about Alex and maybe dig up some useful information about him for Mitch and Lance Brody. If he actually did go to El Diablo, Alex would recognize him from the club.

      And then there was Alicia herself.

      Usually once he told a girl he was actually Justin Dupree, she laughed off the deception and fawned all over him, thrilled to be dating the notorious shipping heir instead of some regular guy.

      Alicia though…

      He let out a low whistle. He suspected she wouldn’t take the deception lightly. She’d gone to a convent school, for crying out loud. She carried white linen handkerchiefs in her purse. Her French-tipped fingernails did not look like they’d ever been anywhere Mother Superior wouldn’t approve of.

      Did he really want to blow his chance of feeling those luscious, manicured nails rake down his back?

      No. He didn’t. Which was why he wasn’t going to mention the little name issue just yet. He’d wait until the drama of the fire blew over. Until he’d held her in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

      Until he’d made hot, wild love to her all night long.

      Then he’d tell her.

      Chapter Two

      Alicia paced under the elegant awning outside the Texas Cattleman’s Club.

      Bees buzzed around flowers blooming in the carved-stone planters. Sunlight glistened on the polished-marble walkway and flashed off the brass accents on the door as members came and went, waving hello and stopping to commiserate about the fire.

      Alicia tried to act normal, as though she wasn’t about to embark on possibly the biggest “first” in her life.

      She’d never spent the night at a man’s house before.

      She’d never…

      She’d never done a lot of things, and she hoped to rectify that, starting tonight.

      The hushed sound of a powerful engine made her glance up. Rick pulled up in front of the awning and leaned out of the driver’s seat of his silver Porsche.

      The sun shone in his tousled dark hair. “How do you manage to look more gorgeous every time I see you?” He cocked his head and fixed his bold blue eyes on hers.

      Alicia blushed. She had gone to a little extra effort with her appearance today. She wanted everything to be perfect.

      She gestured to her luggage. “I tried not to pack too much stuff. Just some clothes for work and a few casual things.”

      Like the pretty lingerie she’d bought last week.

      He stowed her bags in the trunk. Black tailored slacks clung to his powerful thighs and a well-cut polo shirt emphasized the width of his shoulders. Was it fair for a man to be so dangerously handsome?

      She could hardly believe he was interested in her.

      “Do you want to go in?” She gestured to the front door. Cara was inside and she’d love to see the look on her friend’s face when she got an eyeful of Rick.

      Although she’d met him at the club, she wasn’t sure if he was a member. The couple of times she’d mentioned his name to friends, she’d drawn blank stares.

      He hesitated and glanced at the double doors that led into the wood-paneled sanctuary. “I’d actually rather get back to the hotel. I have a business call coming. Nothing major, it won’t take long.”

      “Oh, no problem. Let’s go then.” She tried not to let her disappointment show.

      Of course he had business to conduct. She wasn’t exactly sure what he did, but judging from the car he drove and the fact that he had a four-bedroom suite at the Houston Omni, it must be pretty darn important. She couldn’t expect him to put his whole life on hold because she needed a place to stay.

      At the Omni, the bellhop removed Alicia’s bags from the trunk and she felt strangely weightless as she watched them disappear across the glistening marble floor of the lobby.

      No turning back now.

      Not that she wanted to. Rick was so thoughtful and sweet. He squeezed her hand as they walked to the bank of elevators.

      She squeezed back, trying not to let her nerves show. He had no idea this was new for her. That she’d never spent the night with a man before.