A Deal Made In Texas. Michelle Major

stained-glass dome, was the hallmark of the Driskill’s famous lobby.

      “Hey, Christine.” The man she’d been standing with at the bar earlier, Bobby, waved from where he stood in front of the concierge desk. “A few of us are going to bail on the dancing and head to an Irish pub around the corner. Want to—”

      “Oh, no,” Christine whispered, her lips barely moving.

      “She’s busy,” Gavin called and headed for the elevators along the far wall. She followed him in without protest but tugged her hand away as he hit the button for the fifth floor.

      “Are you staying here, too?” he asked, not sure how to broach the subject of what had just happened between them. His wildly successful legal career had made Gavin believe he could talk his way out of any situation. Not so, apparently.

      She shook her head, a lock of fiery hair falling forward to cover her cheek. Had he run his hands through her hair, loosening the elegant chignon? He couldn’t remember but suddenly he wanted nothing more than to see the bright strands cascading over her shoulders. He’d told his sister he was dating a woman with blue eyes and auburn hair. Maybe he’d been unconsciously thinking of Christine after their dance.

      “Gavin, I—”

      The door opened, cutting off whatever she was going to say to him. An older couple got in.

      “Going down?” the man asked.

      Gavin shook his head. “Up.”

      “We’ll ride along,” the woman offered. “You two look fancy.”

      “Wedding reception,” Christine said quietly.

      “I love weddings.” The woman sighed. “Always so romantic.”

      Her husband snorted. “Except when your brother got sloshed and threw up on the dance floor at ours.”

      “He had food poisoning,” the wife said, her tone clipped.

      “Forty years.” The man lifted his hands. “She still can’t admit that her no-good brother’s a drunk.”

      “At least he still shows up for holidays,” the woman shot back. “Unlike your rude sister and her—”

      “Our floor,” Gavin interrupted when the elevator dinged. The door slid open, and he placed a hand on Christine’s back. “I’m at the end of the hall,” he told her when the door closed behind them with a snick.

      His hand stilled as he realized her shoulders were shaking. Oh, God. Not tears. He could handle an angry jury or a recalcitrant witness. But tears killed him, especially the thought that he’d caused them.

      “Don’t cry,” he whispered. “It will be—”

      A sob broke from her throat. No, not a sob. Laughter.

      She lifted her face, and he realized her tears weren’t from anxiety, but amusement. “I know our relationship is five minutes long and a complete lie,” she said, wiping her cheeks as she laughed, “but promise we’ll never fight about your drunk brother.”

      He grinned and looped an arm around her shoulder as they started down the hall. “Fortunados can handle their liquor,” he promised. “Do you have a sibling? I don’t even know.”

      “A sister. Aimee is a year younger than me and perfect in every way.”

      “Perfection must run in the family.”

      As lines went, Gavin thought it was a pretty good one. Both subtle and charming. Christine only burst into another round of laughter. He was definitely losing his touch, although it was somewhat refreshing to be with a woman who didn’t melt in a puddle at his feet. Gavin liked a challenge.

      He wouldn’t have pegged Christine as one, but this woman surprised him at every turn.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered, clasping a hand over her mouth when a snort escaped.

      He unlocked the hotel room door and gestured for her to enter.

      “I hate to be indelicate,” he said when they were both inside, “but are you drunk?”

      She shook her head and drew in a shuddery breath. “It’s just been a crazy night, you know?”

      “I do. Would you like a drink now? I have a bottle of Mendoza red that was left in the welcome bag for wedding guests. Or water?”

      “No, thanks.” Now that her laughter had stopped, Gavin could almost see the wheels turning in Christine’s brain as she became aware that she was alone with him in his hotel room.

      “Would you feel more comfortable if I propped open the door?” He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it onto the edge of the bed.

      “I trust you,” she whispered.

      He blew out a breath, surprised at how happy the simple statement made him. He loosened his bow tie then undid the top button of his tailored shirt.

      “Christine, I want to—”

      “I’m sorry,” she blurted. All the amusement from minutes ago had vanished from her features. “I shouldn’t have butted into your conversation with Schuyler. You don’t need my help to handle your sister and—”

      “On the contrary. I want to thank you. You rescued me.”

      She wrapped her arms around her waist, and he could see her knuckles turning white from pressing her fingers against her rib cage. “I’m not sure what possessed me to get involved,” she admitted. “I guess because you helped me with Bobby earlier.”

      “Bobby is a putz.”

      One side of her mouth curved, not a true smile but a step in the right direction. “That’s true, which makes our situations different. Schuyler is your sister and she cares about you.”

      “She’s also relentless.” He took a step toward her, slowly, like he was approaching an animal that might spook at any moment. He didn’t want to spook her. “Would you like to sit down?” He inclined his head toward the couch positioned in front of the room’s large window. “We can talk about next steps.”

      Her cornflower-blue eyes widened. “Next steps. Okay.”

      He grabbed two bottles of water from the mini-fridge and set them both on the coffee table before taking a seat next to her. “In case you get thirsty.”

      “You’re really not mad?” She leaned forward and slipped off the heels she wore, revealing the most adorable painted pink toes Gavin had ever seen.

      Hell, when was the last time he’d been with a woman? Granted, he’d been busy with work so his personal life had taken a back seat. But he was too far gone if a glimpse of toenail polish could mess with him like this.

      “Christine, I’m grateful. I’d already made up a girlfriend. You made her a reality.”

      She tucked her legs underneath her. “And the kiss?”

      “You’ll never hear me complain about a beautiful woman kissing me.”

      She rolled her eyes. “I took it too far.”

      “You were convincing.”

      Color stained her cheeks. “Maybe I missed my calling. I should have been an actress.”

      “Hmm.” Gavin didn’t like the sound of that. It bothered him more than it should to think she’d been faking the kiss, even though that was what this whole thing was. A fake. He forced a smile, unwilling to let her see his reaction. Best to keep things light and casual, and he could do that better than almost anyone he knew. “I’m hoping you’ll be interested in a repeat performance.”

      Christine made a sound that was somewhere between a yelp and whimper. “Of the kiss?”

      Hell, yes.

      “Actually, I was talking