Page 3 of Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn 1)
He was still debating how to get both of them out of his house when Sarah stepped forward with the huge, welcoming smile he’d seen on her face when she’d thought he was her friend’s brother.
She took Melanie’s hand in hers and shook energetically. “Hi, my name’s Sarah.”
Melanie pulled her hand free. Did he imagine the hiss? Careful, Sarah. Feral cats aren’t real good when cornered. He figured he could intervene before things got ugly, but most creatures got along better if you let them sort it out for themselves.
Sarah’s smile didn’t dim as she waited for the other woman to speak.
“Melanie,” his dark-haired housekeeper said curtly.
In the high-speed way she spoke, Sarah said, “I can only imagine what you must be thinking, but this is much more ridiculous and innocent than it looks.” She took her phone out of her back pocket and waved it between them. “I mean, who knew it wouldn’t work out here, right?” She looked over her shoulder at Tony and said, “Your husband was just letting me use your phone.” Then she flushed a delightful shade of pink. “Okay, your shower, too, but he didn’t let me use that. I mean, I did use it, but that was before I knew you would both be here. Which, you should be, because it’s your house. So why wouldn’t you be here? I’m the one who shouldn’t be here. And I’m actually just leaving.”
Melanie, who’d simply stared at Sarah during this overflowing river of speech, raised her eyebrows and stated succinctly, “I’m not his wife.”
“Whew,” Sarah said with a laugh, then stopped and looked at both of them again. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. If you’re his girlfriend or whatever, I’m cool with that. It was just that—whoa, explaining this to a wife would be so much worse. Not that anything happened.” Sarah closed her eyes briefly as if the thought pained her, then continued earnestly, “Unless you count that he saw me naked, and that totally wasn’t his fault.”
Melanie said blandly, “I work here.”
“Oh, I thought . . .”
“No,” Melanie and Tony said in unison.
Another blush spread across Sarah’s cheeks. The quick look she gave Tony sent his heart racing and his thoughts scattering.
“Sarah isn’t staying,” he said gruffly. “As soon as she locates her friends, she’s leaving.”
Sarah deflated a bit at his harsh declaration. “Yes, in fact, they should be there now. I should head out.”
I’ll probably regret this. “Melanie, make a second plate for dinner. Sarah and I will eat in the dining room.”
Hard to say which woman he’d shocked more. Sarah looked back and forth between them as if seeking reassurance. “I am hungry. If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble?”
Melanie didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. In fact, he preferred she didn’t. He wasn’t ready to explain to anyone, not even himself, why he was reluctant to see Sarah leave.
It was more than how his body responded to the sight of hers. He wanted . . .
He wasn’t sure what exactly.
Was it because she had no idea who he was? She was neither intimidated by his reputation nor excited by the idea of being with a man many considered dangerous. No, she looked at him like there wasn’t a reason in the world why they couldn’t be friends . . . or more.
Tony had been alone so long that he’d begun to believe he preferred it that way. In the beginning it had been easier, and over time it had become comfortable. Tonight he didn’t want to be a man with a past he regretted. He didn’t want to be angry. He wanted to have an uncomplicated dinner with a beautiful woman. Knowing she was leaving after their meal made it much easier to allow himself the possibility of enjoying it.
Melanie had just finished setting two places at one end of the dining room table when he and Sarah entered the room. No one would have guessed this was the first time anyone had sat there in the five years he’d owned the place. He preferred the solitude of the small kitchen table. He wasn’t about to mention it, though—women would falsely read meaning into something like that.
Chapter Two
Standing in the doorway of the dining room, Sarah wished life had a “Pause” button. She wanted to slow time and savor each moment. Another woman might have been afraid, but the joy of the unexpected was the reason Sarah often chose riding the trails instead of sticking to the ring at the barn she boarded her horse at. Outside of the riding ring, she was free, and anything was possible.
This wasn’t how my trip was supposed to go, but look at me, standing next to a real cowboy—one with a shy smile and a slow Southern drawl. He belongs in a book. She figured he was in his late twenties or early thirties, but the rugged lines of his face spoke of years of hard work, and his callused hands held a powerful promise she’d never imagined in the manicured, smooth texture of the city men she was used to.
He even smells like the outdoors.
How strange would I look if I took out my notebook and jotted down all the things I don’t want to forget about him? I’d start with those muscles. Those heavenly muscles. Unlike the hulking men who strutted like peacocks at her local gym, this man had the understated, quiet strength that Sarah found a million times sexier. He earned those delicious biceps and that rock-hard body in a way that wouldn’t have diminished the size of his . . .
In the middle of an appreciative sigh, Sarah realized her gaze had followed her thoughts in a less-than-subtle ogling of his lower assets. She looked up quickly, her face heating with a blush when she met his eyes. Quick. Say something. “I like yo
ur . . . uh . . . jeans.”
Who the hell says that?
“Pardon the dust.” He brushed his hand down one thigh, a move that sent responding flickers of heat through Sarah. There it was again, that almost smile. “I usually shower when I get home, but it was already occupied.”
You could have joined me, Sarah thought, surprised at herself. Oh my God, I’m smiling like some street lunatic. Don’t look guilty; look away or he’ll know what you were thinking. She met his eyes and the heat that flew between them made her start considering all sorts of impulsive things—many of which included the removal of some or all of their clothing.
Sarah gulped.
Okay, this is not a good idea. I don’t know this man.
But I’d like to.
Oh, how I’d like to.
Stop that! she chastised her raging libido. This summer is about breaking free, living, finding my writer’s voice—not about having a one-night stand just because my sense of direction sucks.
She sought sanity by turning her attention to the table. The very long, very sturdy table. What would it be like to push the plates aside and . . .
A huge smile spread across her face as images of them entwined passionately elicited another thought. I have a naughty side.
Me.
Who knew? All I needed was the right inspiration!
Tony moved to stand behind one of the chairs and pulled it out for her to sit. When she did, he pushed it in with more force than she’d expected and she gasped. He took the seat across from her but looked far from happy about it, making her wonder if their attraction was indeed mutual.
Sarah had never considered herself a beauty, nor was she used to men glowering at her like she was an . . . uninvited guest? I’m such an idiot. He’s feeding me out of pity. This isn’t a date. No amount of leering at him will change that. Sarah groaned, pushed her seat back, and stood. “I should go.”
