One Texas Night.... Sara Orwig

job completed and return to her quiet world where there was no Jared Weston to tempt her. No matter how appealing and exciting Jared was, Allison didn’t want to get so deeply involved with him that she cared. With a man like Jared, life would be a continual roller coaster.

      Hurrying to dress for dinner, she wore a short green cotton skirt, a matching cotton blouse and flat sandals. She twisted and braided her hair, fastening it on her head, hoping to look cool and remote, and to keep things that way between them through dinner.

      When she stepped outside, Jared turned to greet her. Dressed casually now in chinos and a black knit shirt, he still took her breath away. The evening presented a challenge the minute she saw him.

      As she approached him by the pool, he walked toward her, his look of approval warm while he smiled at her. “You look great.” When his gaze lingered on her mouth, her pulse drummed.

      “Thank you. I brought my iPad and thought we might get one more room done after dinner tonight.”

      His smile broadened. “Sure, if you’d like,” he said, taking the iPad from her to place it on a table. “In a hurry to get through and get away?” he asked, walking closer to her. “Scared of me? Or taking your brother’s warnings seriously now? Or something else?” he added, studying her.

      “I’m trying to stick to business,” she answered, her heart racing beneath his piercing gaze. His green eyes ignited memories of his mouth on hers, his tongue, his taste. The hot need for more then, as now, became a temptation to reach for him. She was fighting memories of his kisses that still could make her tingle merely thinking about them.

      “Ever hear of stopping work for the evening?”

      “I think sticking to business is a far safer course to follow.”

      “Safer than being with me? I’m dangerous?” he asked, his dark eyebrows raising slightly. “How am I a threat? Boyfriend at home? What about Phillip? Your brother said you’re almost engaged. Is your brother wringing his hands until you’re away from me? What is it?” Jared asked.

      “No boyfriend,” she said, barely able to recognize her own voice that had become breathless. “Phillip and I are old and close friends, that’s all. And I don’t have to answer to Sloan. He’s got his family, and I’m an adult now.”

      “So what does that leave?” Jared prompted, his voice becoming deeper and his gaze intensifying, making her breathing difficult.

      “That you’re an incredibly sexy, appealing man who might be a bit of a threat to my quiet life. You’re definitely not ready to settle down, whereas I have reached the point in my life where I’m more interested in long-term, serious relationships or none at all. Does that answer your question?” she asked, gazing up at him. Her heartbeat raced as she watched him. Her words should put up a wall between them, make him stop and think before he flirted or touched her.

      “After that description, if you expect me to back off and become all business and purely professional—” He paused to shake his head and move still closer, resting one hand lightly on her shoulder, his fingers playing back and forth slowly on her nape, a sensitive, erotic part of her. “It isn’t going to happen,” he finished. She heard his words while his touch immobilized her. “Incredibly sexy,” he repeated in a hushed tone, leaning toward her. “I’m not going away when you tell me that’s how you see me.”

      She placed her hand on his chest to stop him from coming any closer. Her heart pounded while she looked up at him and the tension between them heightened. As his gaze lowered to her mouth, it was impossible to draw in enough air to breathe. The urge to lean toward him strengthened, creating another inner battle.

      “You may not be going away, but I’m not coming any closer in spite of my description. I’m here to do a job. I intend to do it and then go home and forget all about you again.”

      A faint smile tugged up one corner of his mouth as he stepped close and slipped an arm around her waist. “I don’t think you’ve ever forgotten. Right now I think you recall that night as clearly as I do. I remember how soft you are,” he said in a voice that dropped and grew thicker. “I remember how passionate you can be—”

      Her heart pounded while desire consumed her even as she placed her fingers on his mouth to stop him from talking. He kissed her fingers, his tongue touching them, and she yanked her hand away and wriggled out of his embrace.

      “We get back on an impersonal basis, or I eat dinner elsewhere,” she threatened.

      “We can do whatever you want,” he said, stepping away. “But sometime soon we’ll do what I want. We could make a wager on that one. A wager I would win.” He turned to walk toward the bar. “What would you like to drink tonight?” he asked, stepping behind the bar to face her. “We have everything. Fully stocked. What’s your pleasure?”

      His transformation had been far swifter than hers. She still burned with desire and struggled to think of business and to get Jared out of her thoughts. She wanted to return to a purely business relationship, wanted to maintain an impersonal one tonight. “I’ll have a piña colada,” she said, naming the first drink that came to mind.

      She climbed onto a bar stool to watch him mix drinks. His well-shaped hands moved with efficiency, stirring her memories of his hands on her body, her legs, moving over her, creating magic. Inhaling a shaky breath, she shifted her attention to the swimming pool with a waterfall and three fountains. All except the pool were dry, turned off since the mansion was no longer lived in, she assumed.

      “Are you busy with jobs like this one all the time?” he asked.

      “Not at all. We have sales. There’s always inventory to keep track of, billing, office stuff. If I have a chance, which is rare, I spend time studying antiques, their history, the different styles of furniture, art history. I’m amazed by how much my dad knows. This is a fascinating field,” she said, thinking the most fascinating thing in her life at the moment was the tall, dark-haired man she faced.

      “So you like what you do,” Jared said, coming around the bar to hand her a drink while he held his. “Let’s go sit where it’s a little more comfortable,” he suggested before she could answer him.

      “Yes, I love this work. Sloan will never go into this line of work, but I want to help my dad and help grow the business,” she replied as Jared directed her toward a grouping of outdoor furniture. When she sat, he pulled his chair close, turning slightly to face her.

      He raised his drink. “Here’s to success,” he said.

      She had to smile. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass and taking a sip. “Even though you didn’t specify what endeavor you had in mind with this toast.”

      “Care to try to guess what’s on my mind?”

      She laughed. “I don’t think so. I’ve told you what I want. What do you want in your future?”

      “Made you laugh. That’s good,” he said. “What do I want in the future?” he repeated. “In the near future—tomorrow night—I want to take you to dinner.”

      “Thank you, that would be nice,” she said, deciding not to fight him at every turn.

      “‘Nice’ sounds a little dull.”

      “‘Nice’ sounds absolutely perfect to me. A simple dinner out.”

      “Good. Half past six. We’ll go early because I’m anxious.”

      She had to smile again. “I doubt if you’ve been ‘anxious’ over a woman since you were ten years old.”

      “You may have the wrong impression, which hopefully I’ll change.”

      “I don’t believe you need to give one second to that endeavor. It’s unnecessary,” she said. Wanting to change the subject, she steered their talk back to their work. “As far as the furnishings are concerned, so far, the oldest piece I’ve found in this house is a sixteenth-century chest.”