The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson

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Название The Westmoreland Legacy
Автор произведения Brenda Jackson
Жанр Короткие любовные романы
Серия The Westmoreland Legacy
Издательство Короткие любовные романы
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781474093064



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intention of doing so now. The most important thing in her life had always been her work, and she deliberately avoided relationships to keep her focus where it should be. She wouldn’t let her attraction to Gavin interfere with what she needed to do.

      And the first thing she needed to do was get out of bed and start her day. Gavin said they would talk today and she could only hope for the best.

      * * *

      It was early evening when Gavin finally opened his eyes and he immediately thought about the woman staying in the party house. The woman he’d kissed last night.

      Layla had mated her tongue to his with an intensity that made every muscle in his body throb. It was as if she had just as much passion bottled up inside as he did. And he’d unleashed it all with that kiss.

      He would love to pick up where they’d left off last night. Take the passion to a whole new level. That made him think of other things...like making love to Layla. How it would feel to run his hands through her hair, lock his mouth and his body to hers. Become immersed in all that sexual energy they seemed to generate. He got hard just thinking about the possibilities.

      Gavin glanced over at the clock. He had slept the day away, but he had needed the sleep. Images of Layla had sneaked into the deep recesses of his mind, whether he had wanted them to or not. She’d been in his dreams.

      He wanted her.

      There. He’d confirmed it in his mind without an ounce of regret. He was a man with needs and that kiss last night had totally obliterated any desire for the Mississippi vixen. He’d lost interest in heading south as planned. Nor did he want Layla to leave the ranch. But like she’d reminded him last night, unless he agreed to let her dig on the property, she had no reason to stay.

      That meant he had to come up with a plan.

      He rubbed sleep from his eyes, remembering that he had detected a few insecurities lurking within Layla last night. Something about her need to prove herself. What was that about? Did he really want to know? Did he even care?

      Yes, he cared. He would go so far as to say that he even admired her spunk. Layla was tough and he had a feeling he hadn’t even seen half the strength she possessed. She had to be resilient to have become a college professor at such a young age. He could see her holding her own when it mattered. He couldn’t help but smile when he recalled her saying that he needed to keep sex out of this situation. Little did she know he had no intention of doing that. Their attraction was too strong and he intended to use it to his advantage.

      As he stood to head for the bathroom, he halted upon hearing voices. They were his grandmother’s and Layla’s. His body immediately reacted to the sound of Layla’s voice. They were in the kitchen. And he could tell his grandmother was enjoying the conversation.

      He could understand why Gramma Mel was so taken with Layla. Although he never thought about it much, his grandmother probably got lonely around here whenever he was away. Even though she had Caldwell, there hadn’t been another woman staying on the Silver Spurs since Gavin’s mother had left.

      He tried pushing thoughts of Jamie Blake from his mind like he’d always done. Why should he think about the woman who hadn’t thought of him? One day she’d packed up and left, drove away leaving only a letter claiming she needed time away and would return. She never did. That’s what had bothered Gavin the most, knowing a woman could just walk away from her husband and eight-year-old son without looking back.

      Refusing to think about his mother anymore, Gavin entered his bathroom to shower. He hoped Layla stayed in the kitchen with his grandmother for a while because he definitely needed to talk to her.

      * * *

      Layla’s hand tightened on her glass of iced tea the moment Gavin entered the kitchen. She didn’t have to glance behind her to know he was there. His presence filled the room and sent all kinds of sensations vibrating through her. She was a little irritated that she was so aware of him. The sexual chemistry she’d hoped was a fluke was back in full force.

      “Gavin, I figured the smell of food would wake you sooner or later,” Melody Blake said, smiling at her grandson.

      When he moved into Layla’s line of vision she had no choice but to glance over at him. “Yes, it definitely did,” he said, answering his grandmother but staring straight at Layla.

      Then he spoke to her. “Layla. How are you today?”

      She wanted to tell him she’d been fine until he’d made an appearance. She couldn’t stop her gaze from roaming all over him. He stood near the window and the fading afternoon light highlighted his features, his clothing, everything about him. Not for the first time, Layla thought he had to be the sexiest man alive.

      When he lifted a brow, she realized she had yet to answer his question. “I’m fine, Gavin. Thanks for asking.”

      She quickly switched her gaze away from him and back to her plate. Why had she waited so long to answer? Doing so had made it obvious she’d been checking him out. Thoroughly.

      “I left your food warming in the oven, Gavin,” Ms. Melody said, breaking the tension.

      “Thanks, Gramma Mel. All I’ve been able to think about these last few days was getting back to your home-cooked meals.” Gavin opened the oven to peek inside.

      After getting his plate out of the oven, he smiled at Layla and crossed the kitchen to sit in the chair beside her, brushing his thigh against hers. He said grace and then lifted his head and looked over at Layla. He caught her staring at him again. She knew his touch had been no accident. Totally deliberate.

      He pasted an innocent smile on his face and asked, “So, Layla, how was your day?”

      Layla gritted her teeth. The nerve of him asking how her day had gone when she’d been waiting to meet with him. She hadn’t mentioned anything about Gavin’s visit last night to Ms. Melody. There was no way Layla could have mentioned it with a straight face, especially when she couldn’t help thinking of the kiss they’d shared.

      Knowing he was waiting for her response, she said, “My day has been going great.”

      “Gavin, I’m glad I got to say hello before I leave,” his grandmother said, standing to her feet.

      Gavin looked at his grandmother. “Where are you going?”

      “The civic center. It’s bingo night and Viola is picking me up. She should be here any minute.”

      It suddenly occurred to Layla that she would be left alone with Gavin. That shouldn’t be a big deal since they still needed to talk, but it was. Already nerves stirred in the pit of her stomach.

      “We’ll take care of the kitchen,” she heard Gavin say. “Layla and I need to talk anyway.”

      Ms. Melody looked back and forth at the two of them before directing her gaze to her grandson. “I think that’s a good idea.” At the sound of the car horn, a smile touched her lips. “That’s Viola.”

      Before Layla and Gavin could tell her goodbye, Melody Blake had grabbed her purse and was out the door.

      That’s when Gavin turned his attention back to Layla.

      * * *

      When Gavin saw Layla loading her dishes into the sink, he said, “You don’t have to help me with the dishes.”

      She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

      Her back was to him and he couldn’t stop his gaze from covering every inch of her backside, wrapped tight in her skirt. And before she’d left the table, more than once he’d checked out her pink blouse, noticing the deep V neck. There was nothing like seeing a little of a woman’s cleavage every now and then. Made him wonder what her breasts looked like. How they would feel in his hands. Taste in his mouth.

      “Your grandmother forgot to mention she made a dessert,” Layla said, breaking into his thoughts and turning around to meet his gaze.

      “What