A Weaver Wedding. Allison Leigh

left her the surprising message—she’d thought that was something her brother had wanted, too. Now she knew better.

      “No cake,” she told Axel. “No candles.”

      His thumb slid down her palm again. “Ah, now, that just ain’t right. Birthdays always come with a cake and candles where my family is concerned.”

      She wasn’t surprised. There wasn’t a soul who lived in Weaver who could be unaware of what a tight-knit clan the Clays were. From all appearances, his family was the complete antithesis of hers.

      “When it’s just one of you, cake and candles leem a snittle—” she explained, then frowned and marshaled her tongue with some deliberation “—seem a little unnecessary.”

      “Well, it’s not just one of you tonight, anymore.” His gaze became even more hooded. His thumb wasn’t stroking any longer. It was situated, dead center, against her palm where it felt as if an electric current was passing directly through to her heart. He turned his head slightly as if he was studying their hands pressed together, and her blood seemed to rush to her head. “Feels like there’re two of us to me,” he murmured.

      Her heart bounced around. Her skin felt tight, her nerve endings wanting suddenly to burst free. “Okay.” The word came out more like a breath, but his mouth still slid into a slow, satisfied curve.

      He linked his fingers through hers and before she knew it, she felt the cold rush of October night air across her hot face as he pulled her right out the front door.

      It vaguely dawned on her that she’d forgotten her jacket, but then it didn’t matter because there, just out of the light of the entrance, he slid his arms around her shoulders, turned her boldly into his arms, and covered her mouth with his.

      Sensation blasted through her with all the warmth of a summer afternoon and her head fell back, her mouth opening beneath his.

      His hand—oh, it was so warm, so gentle, so strong—covered the base of her neck. Slowly slid along her throat until it reached her jaw.

      “Dude. Get a room.” A laughing male voice said from behind them, followed by a trill of female giggles.

      Axel lifted his head, but he didn’t even look back at the snickering couple entering the bar behind them. His gaze stayed on her face, but his hand cradled her throat where she felt certain he could feel her thundering pulse. “Wishes aside for the moment, what do you want for your birthday, Tara Browning?”

      She moistened her lips and tasted him on them. “You.” The word escaped. Bald. Husky. The blush that hit her face was scorching. “Sorry. Blame that on the margaritas.”

      “I was hoping I had something to do with it.” His fingers splayed against her spine, and he nudged her even closer until not even Wyoming cold could get between them.

      She inhaled. Everywhere that she was soft and giving, he was…not.

      Then his head ducked close to hers, but his lips merely grazed the point of her chin and followed the line of her jaw toward her ear. “Having me is the easy part.”

      She shivered and it had nothing to do with the night air. Her fingers latched onto the butter-soft leather jacket covering his wide shoulders.

      “But first,” he said as he lifted his head with a devilish grin in place, “some celebrating is still in order.”

      She would have swayed again if not for his steadying hold. “Celebrating?”

      “Cake and candles at the very least.” He let go of her and in one smooth motion pulled off his jacket and slid it around her shoulders.

      The leather hung heavily around her and smelled of him. She managed not to slide into a puddle at his feet and clutched the front of the coat together with one hand. He took the other and pulled her steadily through the dimly lit parking lot, stopping only when they reached the passenger side of a big, dark pickup truck. “If we find a cake at this hour, I’ll eat my hat,” she told him, trying to curtail the excitement racing through her.

      “There are better things to eat.” He pulled open the door, ran his hands beneath the jacket to unerringly find her waist, and lifted her right off her feet, sliding her up his long body. “I haven’t been tempted to make love to a woman in a parking lot since I was fifteen.”

      She swallowed hard, shocked by the rush of temptation that centered hot and moist inside her. “I don’t…um…do this sort of thing.”

      “Celebrate your birthday?” His words whispered along her neck.

      Her head fell back. “Invite a man to my room. I was planning to get one at the motel across the street.”

      Whether that was margarita-inspired boldness or Axelinspired boldness, she didn’t know, and wasn’t sure she cared. They were adults.

      “Good,” he said, sliding his lips over hers in a faint, grazing kiss that made her pulse throb. “We’ll have someplace to go to have our cake—” he slid her slowly onto the seat and tucked her knees inside “—and eat it, too.”

      Her heart lurched as he closed the door. She watched him through the windows as he rounded the front of the truck. His gaze seemed to meet hers through the window for a moment that started to stretch forever. Then he opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. “Ready?”

      “Mmm hmm.” It sounded strangled even to her.

      He put the keys in the ignition and in seconds they were driving out of the parking lot.

      Dear Lord, what had she gotten herself into?

      But then he glanced at her and his smile was slow. Oh-so-easy. He gently squeezed her fingers where they were clenched against the side of her seat.

      And just that easily, calmness spread through her. Her worries settled. Her judgments dissolved. At that moment, she knew she was exactly where she wanted to be.

      With him.

       Chapter One

      The hearts were everywhere. If anyone entering the high school gymnasium wondered what was being celebrated, the hearts would definitely have given it away.

      “How much for these earrings?”

      Tara smiled at the pretty teenager standing at her Valentine’s Festival booth. It was only February 13th, but the event planners had figured they’d have a better turnout from the residents of Weaver on a Saturday than they would on a Sunday. “They’re half off if you turn in a can of food for the food drive.” The rest of Tara’s profit would go directly to the primary purpose of the festival—raising funds for the elementary school expansion.

      The girl handed her the distinctive bead earrings. “Promise you won’t sell ’em, okay? I’ll be right back.”

      “I promise.” Tara watched the girl speed off across the gymnasium floor that was crowded with booths offering everything from kisses to cookies.

      All of the businesses in Weaver had turned out to offer something of interest at the festival. Even Tara. Though the last thing she felt like celebrating was the hearts-and-love thing.

      She sat down on the little round stool behind the stylishly draped table that constituted her contribution to the Valentine’s Festival. Two more hours and she could pack up shop and move her wares back to Classic Charms, satisfied in the knowledge that she’d done her part in this latest exercise of community spirit.

      There was no reason for her to stay after that. The festivities would culminate in the evening’s dinner dance and purchasing the ticket didn’t mean she had to attend.

      The only thing she wanted to do that evening was have an early rendezvous with her four-poster bed. Alone.

      “Afternoon, Tara.” Hope Clay—one of the festival organizers and the head of the school board—stopped