Tycoon's Temptation: The Truth About the Tycoon / The Tycoon's Lady / HerTexan Tycoon. Allison Leigh

go out with me.”

      She bobbled the logs in her arms again, but saved them from falling. “I… excuse me?”

      “You need to learn how to relax. I know how to relax. I will teach you how to relax. Over a drink. There’s gotta be a watering hole in this town somewhere.” He knew of one, quite specifically.

      “Several, but—”

      “It’s just a drink, Hadley. Your virtue is safe.”

      She turned away, muttering something under her breath.

      “What was that?”

      Her shoulders lifted, then fell. She turned around to face him again. “I said that was a pity,” she blurted. “If I were less virtuous, then maybe Wendell wouldn’t be so anxious to fall in with my brothers’ plans for me. He’s called me four times just this afternoon. Four times! The man doesn’t know how to take no for an answer any more than Shane or Stu.”

      “So tell them all you’re not interested. Nobody can force you to go out with someone you don’t want to go out with.”

       “Go out with? Oh, believe me. If that were only as far as it goes. I told you before. They want to marry me off, and Wendell Pierce is the intended groom.” She shook her head and her dark hair bounced, gleaming in the moonlight. “Wendell knows me from way back. He knows I’m settled and quiet and, and uninteresting!”

      “You settled and quiet?” He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Sweetness, you drive like a bat outta hell, and you have more energy than a swarm of ants.”

      She eyed him. “Gosh. Flattery indeed.” Then, as if she regretted the impulsive words, she ducked her chin and hurried toward the house. Dust and bits of wood rained down from her armload as she went.

      Dane was an expert in negotiations. He ran a billion-dollar corporation. He could sure as hell manage not to offend one twenty-something small-town girl, couldn’t he?

      He found Hadley inside, stacking her wood in the iron bin in one corner of the long kitchen. He crouched down beside her and began unloading his own burden. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

      She dusted her hands together and pushed to her feet, putting distance between them, and he regretted that. It was painfully obvious that—between her spurts of tart humor—he made her nervous.

      “What kind of deal?” Her tone was suspicious enough that had her brothers heard it, they’d have applauded.

      “I’m going to be stuck in this town for a while. You introduce me around, and if your Wendell gets the wrong idea about you in the process, we’ll both be happy.”

      “Introduce you around to whom? Women?” Her lips twisted. “A man who looks like you doesn’t need introductions from me.” Rosy color filled her cheeks.

      It wasn’t like him to be sidetracked by anyone, much less a blushing young brunette. “But then Wendell wouldn’t get word that your interests might lie elsewhere,” he pointed out. “And I didn’t say anything about introducing me to other women.”

      Her eyebrows skyrocketed. “You want me to introduce you to men?”

      He exhaled, torn between laughter and aggravation. “People,” he clarified. “Just people. Come on, Hadley. I’m a sociable guy.” He felt an unexpected pang of conscience at that particularly bald-faced lie. He knew the social games that went along with his place as CEO of Rutherford Industries, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed them. “It’ll help pass the time while my car’s getting fixed. You remember the car, right?”

      Remorse filled her eyes. “I’m not likely to forget,” she assured.

      “Well then.” He rose, too, and stepped closer to her. She held her stance, which was surprising, but good. “We go out. Have a few drinks.” To please no one but himself, he drew a long lock of hair away from her face and settled it against her wood-dusted flannel shoulder.

      Her hair felt just as silky as it looked, and it took more effort than it should have to move his hand away.

      “But… but aren’t you tired? You were in an accident yesterday, for pity’s sake. You surely don’t want to be going out.”

      “I don’t offer to do things if I don’t want to. Agree. You learn how to relax,” he murmured. “I meet some new people. And maybe your problem with Wendell will solve itself.”

      Her eyes were impossibly wide. “You talk people into doing lots of things, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” Now that was true. Only person he’d never been able to talk into something was Roth.

      She exhaled. “I suppose we could go to the Tipped Barrel. It’s fairly popular with some people.”

      The Tipped Barrel was exactly where he wanted to go, only he’d intended to go there alone until Hadley began bemoaning her small difficulty with Wendell.

      “And you?”

      “Oh, I’ve never been there. Never been to any bar in my entire life, for that matter. When people see me there, they’ll be certain you’re corrupting me.” A glint sparked in her eyes and she smiled suddenly. Brilliantly. “Okay. I’ll do it. Let’s go.”

      “You don’t want to change clothes or anything?”

      Her enthusiasm visibly faltered and he felt like kicking himself when she looked down at herself. “Right,” she muttered. “Of course. How silly of—”

      He caught her chin in his fingers and lifted. “You don’t need to change,” he said gruffly. He figured he wouldn’t win any awards by telling her he was used to dealing with far more high-maintenance women. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

      She didn’t look convinced. And standing there touching her face—satin smooth and velvet soft and, if he wasn’t mistaken, completely devoid of artifice—wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done in his life. Because he definitely wasn’t soft. At all.

      He lowered his hand. “It’s cold out. Do you want to get a warmer coat?”

      Hadley nodded. She would probably never have an opportunity like this again. To dissuade Wendell by his own choice without her ever having to tell him she had absolutely no interest in him and hurting his poor feelings. “We’ll, um, need to walk,” she reminded him, ignoring the little voice inside her head that mocked her for not admitting that the appeal here had nothing whatsoever to do with Wendell. “Are you sure you want—”

      “Get your coat, Hadley.”

      She didn’t wait around for Wood to come to his senses and change his mind. She went and got her coat.

      And if she ran a brush through her hair and spritzed on a little perfume that Evie had given her for Christmas to compensate for the sexless bulky parka she donned, then only she had to know.

      Wood was waiting by the front door in his leather jacket.

      Her steps faltered. She might be warmer, but he wouldn’t be. “You need a coat, too.”

      He shrugged, unconcerned. “I’ll be fine.”

      “We could stop by Shane’s and borrow one.”

      “And give the good sheriff a chance to talk you out of this?” Wood opened the door and nudged her through. “Don’t think so.”

      He had a point. She snatched the black muffler from her own neck though, and held it out to him. “At least use this. If you end up catching pneumonia or something, I’d never forgive myself.”

      He took the long scarf and looped it around his neck. “Satisfied?”

      “I would be if you had gloves, too.”

      He smiled and grabbed her hand, then tucked them both, her mitten and