Trading Places with the Boss. Raye Morgan

looked up, surprised, when he took her arm and leaned close.

      “We need to talk,” he said softly near her ear.

      Her lovely mouth tilted at the corners. “Talk is cheap,” she quipped, gathering her things and looking toward the exit. “Send me an e-mail.”

      His fingers ringed her upper arm. He wasn’t about to let her bolt, despite the way her flesh felt under his hand.

      “You want all communications in writing, so you can hold my words as evidence against me?” he responded in kind. “Just a bit too transparent, Shelley. I’m not going to fall for that one.”

      “Too smart for me, huh?” She gave a significant glance at his hand on her arm. “Or, if brains don’t work for you, you’re ready to move on to manhandling. Is that it?”

      He didn’t let go. “Intimidation can come in many forms,” he noted dryly. “Some of them just your size.”

      “Are you accusing me of using my feminine wiles to intimidate you?” she said, looking more amused than anything else.

      He opened his mouth to say something that would get him into a lot of trouble, but luckily, he thought better of it in time.

      “Shelley, I just want to talk to you. Don’t make a federal case out of it.”

      “Okay.” She made a face that made it obvious she was surrendering to the inevitable. “Come on up to my room. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

      Rafe drew in a deep breath, looking down at her. Okay, here was the crux of his dilemma. Every part of him yearned toward an evening alone in her room. He could already see the soft light, feel the romantic music coming in over the sound system, taste the way her mouth would yield under his….

      No way. Couldn’t be done. How about the bar?

      The music there would be throbbing with sensual urgency, the atmosphere provocative, the sense of impending possibilities tantalizing, her mouth would be just as tempting—and alcohol would be involved.

      No. Too dangerous.

      “Let’s walk down to the canal,” he said quickly, deciding a public walkway filled with tourists would pose the least risk. “Soak up some of the ambience.”

      A slight frown appeared, but she nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

      The evening air was unusually warm. The crowd was thick and in a rollicking mood. Lights from the boutiques and clubs bounced off the water and laughter formed a foundation for the music that filled the night. The scene was celebration.

      But Rafe felt edgy. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep from reaching out to help guide Shelley as she walked along beside him. Glancing sideways he saw that she came up above his shoulder. The perfect fit for him. He could already feel how it would be to put an arm around her slender form and curl her up against him.

      He swore softly, fed up with the way his mind kept trending.

      “You rang?” she said quizzically, glancing upwards in a way that emphasized the almond shape of her big brown eyes, her dark lashes leaving long shadows on her cheeks.

      He swallowed hard and looked to the heavens for help. “Sorry,” he said shortly. “I just had a thought.”

      “Quite an unusual experience for you I guess,” she said archly. “Do you swear every time you get one of those?”

      He stared at her, fighting off the impulse to grab her and either shake her or kiss her. “You know what?” he said instead. “You’re as big a brat now as you were when we were kids.”

      She glared at him. “Why not? You’re as big a bully.”

      The crowd surged around them and someone bumped against Shelley, sending her reeling into his arms.

      “Sorry,” said a disembodied voice but Rafe’s first instinct to go after the perpetrator evaporated as he looked down into her face and felt the fragility of her body against the strength of his.

      Time stood still. He couldn’t breathe. The background faded into a swirling mist and all he could see were her huge eyes.

      Then things went back to normal and they pulled apart, avoiding each other sternly, walking quickly toward the river. Rafe turned into a viewing bump-out and she settled alongside him as he leaned his elbows on the railing and stared into the inky waters below.

      It was too late to pretend he didn’t react to her like a bug on a hot skillet. Everything she did, every time she moved, everything she said, triggered a response in him of one kind or another. If he couldn’t conquer it, at least he had to learn to hide it. He stood very still, steeling himself. Time to take back the controls, all the way around. Otherwise he was going to turn into a mushy mess. And that couldn’t happen.

      Shelley was floundering. She had no idea what was going on with Rafe. He was acting so weird. He probably hated her.

      And why not? She’d never liked him much.

      Of course, there had been that New Year’s Eve party when they had both had a little too much to drink. He’d hung around making caustic comments and she’d given as good as she got—but when midnight came, he’d kissed her. The surprise of that kiss had shocked them both and they’d drawn apart unable to look each other in the eye. If it had been anyone else, that kiss might have launched a torrid affair. But since it was the two of them, they hadn’t spoken to each other since—until this weekend. The fact was, any sort of civil relationship between them just wasn’t meant to be.

      Sighing, she looked out at the water, enjoying the bobbing lights reflected there. A slight breeze pressed the lacy fabric of her skirt against her legs.

      “I love San Antonio,” she murmured, mostly to herself as she drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.

      He turned to look at her, then looked away again.

      “Funny how it used to seem like this huge city when I was young,” he said. “Now it seems more like an overgrown small town.”

      “That’s what I like about it. You can wrap your arms around it and become a part of it so easily.”

      “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I like small towns. In fact, it’s cities I hate.”

      She bit her tongue. If he was going to make everything into an argument, she just wouldn’t talk anymore.

      The silence stretched between them. She risked a quick look his way. His attention was on the other side of the river, giving her an opportunity to study him for a moment. He had a rugged, masculine appeal, untamed and proud of it. Pure Texas. She remembered he’d always looked so very good riding a horse.

      But that was then. And remember, she’d never liked him much. She had to keep that in mind at all times.

      Suddenly, as though there had been no pause in their conversation, he spoke softly.

      “My mom brought me to San Antonio for a weekend one November when I was a kid, to see the Christmas lights on the river.”

      That surprised her, and not only because he was talking like a normal person for a change. “Just you? Not any of the others?” There were plenty of Allmans.

      He shook his head. “Just me. I was about thirteen and she thought I needed something special. I think she was trying to make up for the fact that Pop was making it pretty plain that he considered Matt his fair-haired child and thought of me as good for nothing much.”

      He stopped, frowning fiercely. Why the hell was he telling her all this? Of all people, she was the last…

      But maybe it was because they’d known each other forever, practically grown up side by side. Too bad he couldn’t just think of her as a sister. But the feeling that swelled in him whenever he looked at her had nothing to do with brotherly love. So he had better stop looking.

      “You