“Do you like it?”
“Well enough. What about you? You have a bit of a drawl yourself, but I can’t place it.”
He looked surprised, as if she wasn’t supposed to ask any of the questions. “I’m from Wyoming. My father and I own a ranch there.”
“A real ranch? Don’t you miss it?” Her eyes had brightened with interest, and she’d turned in her seat to face him, a movement that made the draped bodice of her dress gape open just a bit, enough to allow his quick glance to caress the soft, beginning curve of her breast. He wanted to put his hand inside her dress and feel the satiny swell, to make her nipple pucker against his palm. The jolt of pure desire that hit him took him by surprise, and he had to force himself to concentrate on her question.
“Yes, I miss it.” The admission surprised him, because he’d been ignoring the increasing need to walk away from the whole rat race and go back to what he’d grown up doing, ranching. Old Tom was proud of his son for making it big in the business world, and Brett had to admit that he’d enjoyed the challenge of it himself. But now…he was getting older, and so was old Tom, and when it came down to it there was nothing that gave him the satisfaction of a hard day’s work in the saddle. He wondered what this soft, sleekly sophisticated creature beside him would say if he told her that more and more often he wanted to go home, to Wyoming and the growing Rutland spread.
“I’m going to go home, someday,” she said softly. “This isn’t going to be my permanent home. Home is an old farmhouse that needs a coat of paint, and a dilapidated barn behind it that even the old cow was afraid to go in.” She laughed a little at her memories, but they were good, warm memories, because Aunt Silver had filled that old farmhouse with enough love to completely shelter her young, confused niece. Aunt Silver had left the old farm now, though she still owned it, and moved to a modern house in Gatlinburg, but Tessa meant to fix up the old farmhouse and live in it someday. The best times of her life had been spent there.
Looking at her now, Brett found it hard to believe that her childhood had been a deprived one. She looked as expensive as a woman from a moneyed, blue-blooded background, educated in a private school in Virginia. Why would she want to go back, if she had it so much better here?
Tessa thoroughly approved of the restaurant he’d chosen; she’d never been there before, but the interior was dim and the diners were all discreetly isolated, while the music was low and pleasant. They were shown to a private little alcove, where a candelabrum with three tall white tapers was the only light. The table was small, and she found that when they were seated their knees bumped. Their eyes met across the table, and a slow, sleepy smile touched his lips and made his eyelids droop heavily. He spread his legs until they were on either side of hers, then gently closed them so that his calves clasped hers. Her heartbeat bolted into a faster rhythm as she felt the warmth of his legs, the muscular strength of his calves. He’d have legs like a linebacker, she thought suddenly, and her legs felt burned from his heat.
Over a glass of very good wine, he continued questioning her, small, innocent questions that she answered willingly. She was too bemused by the possessive clasp of his legs to really pay any attention to the polite, getting-to-know-each-other questions that he gently posed to her every so often. Inevitably, they talked about work, since that was a common ground for them. He didn’t seem to be digging for any dirt, and he was so knowledgeable about the firm anyway that she found herself telling him funny anecdotes about the people she worked with, nothing that would get anyone in trouble, but the humorous little things that happened to everyone. She didn’t spare herself, either, and laughed as hard at the spots she’d gotten herself into as she did at any of the other stories. He countered with his own tales of the things that had happened to him during the years he’d been with Carter-Marshall, and Tessa completely relaxed.
Brett was too coolly controlled ever to be a social lion, but in a private situation with a woman he wanted, he was unrivaled. He charmed without threatening, making her feel appreciated without coming on too strong, skillfully wearing down any inner defenses. He wanted Tessa very much. It wasn’t that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen because she wasn’t; but she was almost certainly the sexiest woman he’d ever met. It wasn’t anything he could really put his finger on; she was slender rather than voluptuous, though very shapely indeed. But her soft green eyes sparkled with teasing amusement, and her wide, generous mouth was made for passion. Her dark brown hair looked like thick silk as it curled around her delicate shoulders. With those high, beautiful cheekbones, she looked exotic and a little foreign. She teased and flirted…oh, she had flirting down to a fine art. Every time her long dark lashes languorously swept down to veil the cheerfully wicked glint in her eyes, he felt his body tighten with need. She played at being the vamp, but she did it so boldly, laughing at herself and enjoying the role so much, that it was unbelievably effective. She invited everyone else to enjoy themselves as lightheartedly as she did, but she didn’t seem to realize what a challenge she was. Brett thought of having her beneath him in bed, that full mouth no longer laughing but swollen from his kisses, and her sweet, satiny body accommodating his passions. He’d have to be gentle with her, at least at first, he thought as his eyes narrowed intently on her. She was delicately built, with slender, fragile bones.
Tessa looked up from the prime rib she was devouring with elegant greed, and found him watching her with sexual intent burning with obvious fire in his eyes. She went suddenly still, her mouth soft and a little tremulous. Without taking his eyes from her, he lifted his wineglass and drank the rich red liquid.
“Finish eating,” he said gently.
“I can’t.” Despite the way he made her feel, so shaky inside, she smiled at him. “You’re staring at me.”
“I know. I was thinking how much I’d rather be having you than this roast beef.”
His voice was so tender and low that it was a moment before she realized exactly what he’d said, and her eyes widened even more. She felt utterly hypnotized, sitting there and staring at him as helplessly as a rabbit must stare at a lion about to pounce. Giving herself an inner shake, Tessa gathered her senses. “Finish your roast anyway,” she admonished him. “Aunt Silver always told me that the only thing worth betting on was a sure thing, so don’t turn down your bird in the hand…or in this case, beef on the plate.”
His hard mouth curved in amusement. “Do you really have an Aunt Silver, or do you just use the idea as a diversion?”
Feeling more on top of the situation again, Tessa gave him a look so innocent that it should have been patented. “Now, could I really make up an Aunt Silver?”
“If it suited you.”
“You’re probably right,” she agreed comfortably, smiling at him. “But in this case, I don’t have to rely on my imagination. Aunt Silver is my actual, living, breathing aunt.”
“The one you and your mother went to live with?”
“Yes. Mother died not long after we moved to Tennessee, so Aunt Silver and I were closer than we’d normally have been. All we had was each other. She’s fantastic; she’s my aunt, my mother and my best friend all rolled into one.”
“Does she still live in Tennessee?” That was another bit of information that he’d already gotten from her file, but Brett’s cool attention to detail never faltered. He wanted her to give the details of her life herself, partly to account for the knowledge he already had, and also to give him the chance to see if she told it exactly as she’d put it in her file, or if she was reluctant to answer any personal questions. So far, she was an open, warmly responsive woman, and he wanted her more and more as the minutes passed.
“She owns a doll shop in Gatlinburg; she lives there now. The old farmhouse needs a lot of work done on it, and the only heat is the fireplace and old woodstove, so it was a lot easier on her just to move to Gatlinburg, as well as being safer during the winter. Now she doesn’t have to drive on those icy roads.” Tessa gave her slow s
mile. “I hope she’ll close the shop for a couple of weeks of vacation this winter, during the slow season, and come out here to visit.”
Brett’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Slow season?”
“The Smoky Mountain park headquarters are in Gatlinburg. The summer months, and through October, are the busiest, though a lot of people go during the winter, too, for the snow.”
He shook his head. Wyoming born and bred, he still couldn’t understand why anyone would actually want snow. It seemed to him that every winter they’d always had more snow than anyone could want in a lifetime. He skied, and did it well, but he’d never been enthusiastic over the sport or the snow necessary for it. But more and more he found himself missing Wyoming, even those god-awful winters.
Tessa laughed at his expression. “Listen, when you live in the South, snow is rare. I’d never seen snow at all until we moved to Tennessee.”
They finished their main courses, and the waiter promptly cleared the dishes away, while they lingered over the wine. Tessa had thought that she wouldn’t be able to eat any dessert, but when the waiter brought the dessert cart, she stared at the scrumptious pastries until her mouth was watering. “I can’t resist it,” she sighed, choosing her dessert.
Brett declined a sweet, but they both ordered coffee, and he slowly drank his as he watched her attack the pastry. She certainly enjoyed her food, for someone so slim. She glanced up at him and caught his gaze, and smiled as she read his thoughts. No words were necessary; it was one of those strangely intimate interludes when two minds march together, and she felt closer to him at that moment than she ever had with anyone else.
His gaze lowered. “You have a crumb on your lip,” he said softly, and Tessa ran her tongue slowly, searchingly, over her lips in quest of the errant crumb.
His navy eyes darkened to black. “You missed it. Lean over and I’ll get it off for you.”
Obligingly Tessa leaned over, smiling at him, so he could flick the crumb off with his finger. He paused for a moment, searing her with the dark heat of his gaze, then leaned over slowly, like a man moving at the command of a force stronger than he. As the distance between them lessened, Tessa’s eyes widened until they were large green pools, soft and deep. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her, was he? Lightly his mouth touched her, found the crumb, and his tongue captured it. Tessa quivered under that light touch, filled with his taste, the heat and smell of his skin surrounding her. She felt almost paralyzed, totally unable to move away from him. She was as overwhelmed by him as if he’d put his arms around her and was holding her tightly to his lean, hard frame, though he’d touched her only with his mouth, and that so lightly and delicately that she’d scarcely been able to feel it.
He moved away, and the heat in his eyes had intensified, his gaze locked on her face. His expression hadn’t changed, but Tessa’s tingling nerve endings picked up the small, almost imperceptible signals of his growing arousal. His skin seemed to be pulled tighter over his fierce cheekbones; his lips were redder, a bit fuller. Tessa’s body throbbed in rhythm with his thundering heartbeat, as if his body set the pace for hers. His heat lured her, pulling her closer.
“Are you ready to leave?” he asked, and his raspy voice was even rawer than usual.
Tessa had a mental image of herself cheerfully, blindly wading ever deeper into the dark sea of temptation. In over my head, she thought with faint despair, then threw caution to the wind and nodded. “Yes. I’d like to go home now, please.”
He didn’t even take her arm as they walked back out to his car, but tension vibrated between them. Tessa glanced up at his controlled face, wondering how a man with such steely self-control could at the same time project the raw, steamy sensuality that was overwhelming her own instinctive caution before he’d even made a real move toward her. That fleeting brush of lips in the restaurant hadn’t qualified as a real kiss, but even that had sent rockets of pleasure zinging through her body.
She was a little stunned by the intensity of her feelings. Not even with Andrew had she wanted so badly, and she’d loved Andrew. Nor had she been physically attracted to Will, but Will had been an infatuation, not love. She was accustomed to attracting men; it was effortless on her part, and she simply accepted it as part of her personality. She kept it light, enjoying herself and enjoying the knowledge that the men in her life had fun when they were with her. Life was for laughter, for teasing and joking and dancing, for feeling good. It was for love, too, but she knew that love didn’t come as easily as laughter.
Tessa was a creature made for the sunlight, warm and bright; the man beside her was controlled, even a little grim, though she’d been able to bring the light of laughter to his eyes several times. For all the warm golden streaks in his hair, for all the heat of his sexuality, he was a man who held himself aloof mentally, whose emotions were cool and even. But he made her heart jump at the sight of him, as no other man had ever done. He made her ache, as if she were suddenly incomplete, and yearning to be a part of a whole, with him.
What if I fall in love with him? she thought in sudden panic, and looked at him with apprehension plain in her eyes. He wasn’t like other men; with him, she wouldn’t be able to control the relationship as she’d always done before. He would take everything she had to give, all of the sunlight and sweet secrets, and she wasn’t certain that he would give her anything in return. Oh, she knew that he was physically attracted to her, but he kept his emotions, his thoughts, carefully shielded. She was totally uncertain of herself in that regard, and she wasn’t used to feeling as if she was walking in emotional quicksand.
Brett had seen the brief moment of fear that had glimmered in her eyes, and he wondered what had caused it. What was she afraid of? She certainly wasn’t afraid of him as a man; she was too damned enticing and flirtatious. His brows pulled together in a momentary frown, before he smoothed them again. He’d solve all her riddles, eventually.
As he pulled the car to the curb at her apartment, he glanced at his wristwatch. “Ten o’clock, Cinderella. You’re safe for the night.”
She chuckled, then quickly sobered. Was she safe? She wasn’t certain yet, and she wouldn’t be until she’d seen him on his way. What if he wanted to stay? She’d already learned that her toughest problem with controlling him would be controlling herself. If he could make her melt with a barely-there kiss, what would she do if he turned his charm on full power?
His hand rested lightly on the small of her back as they went up the walk, but even that touch affected the rhythm of her heartbeat. “Let me have your key,” he murmured. She got it from her purse and gave it to him. He unlocked the door, then stepped inside the apartment before she could think of a way to keep him from coming in. She stood just inside the door and watched as he turned on the lights and checked all the rooms. “All secure,” he said, smiling a little.
“Is this security check standard?” she asked, curiosity momentarily taking her attention.
His eyes were like the deep Pacific, with golden lights dancing on top of the blue waves. “Yes,” he said simply, and came over to her where she still stood by the door. Taking her arm, he drew her farther inside and pushed the door closed. He cupped her face in his hard, warm hands, turning it up and studying the generous mouth, the languid sweep of her thick dark lashes. It was a passionate face for all its delicacy, and he wanted the taste of her mouth on his.
She clasped her hands around the thickness of his wrists, and he felt the faint quiver of her body. Without a word, he bent his head and covered her lips with his mouth, feeling the sweet softness tremble and part, and he kissed her harder, tilting her head back even more so he could slant his mouth across hers and deepen the caress. Tessa helplessly opened her mouth to his tongue. No man should taste this sweet and heady, but he did, and she cried a little inside because she was afraid he would hurt her if she gave him any opening into her emotions, but she was also afraid that she wouldn’t be able to protect herself.
He lifted his mouth from h
ers a fraction of an inch, and his wine-sweet breath wafted over her lips as he demanded in a low, harsh voice, “Kiss me the way I’m kissing you. Give me your tongue. I want it now; I want you to kiss me the way I know you can.” Almost fiercely, he put his mouth over hers again, and with a little sigh Tessa gave in to the delicious, erotic demand. She kissed him as if he were hers, as if she had every right to him, every right to demand everything from him. With her lips and tongue she claimed him, kissing him deeply, forgetting the need to protect herself. His frank, heated sensuality overcame the barriers of laughter that she used to keep people from becoming too intimate, and tapped into the deep, passionate core of her womanhood. Tessa was a woman with a deep reservoir of love and passion waiting to be given to the one man who would be the love of her life. She knew the worth of her love; she wasn’t about to waste it on a casual, fly-by-night relationship no matter how attractive the man. Always before, she’d been able to keep the necessary mental control to ensure this, but now she felt her control slipping away, felt herself giving him the first taste of the searing magic of her passion.
His hands left her face; one arm went around her rib cage, locking her to him with a steely strength that made her shiver as she realized how very strong he was. His other hand went to the back of her head and seized a handful of hair, exerting just enough pressure to hold her head back without hurting her. He lifted his mouth from hers again, and his breathing was ragged, his eyes burning with need.
Tessa quivered against him, well aware of his need; pressed against him as she was, she could feel every taut line of his body. She knew that she should say something light, something to make him laugh, to break the mood, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything very effective. “Was that what you wanted?” she finally managed, but her voice was so low and whispery with her own need that the words were more of an invitation than the light mockery she’d intended.
“That was part of it,” he said in rasping admission, and began kissing her again. Her senses noticed the roughness of his voice, and she knew the more aroused he became, the lower and rougher his voice was, until he spoke in little more than a growl. She clung to his heavy shoulders, helplessly giving his mouth everything it sought, the freedom and depth and response of her own mouth. He was teaching her the power of physical desire, making her want him in a way she’d never wanted a man before, so deeply and powerfully that it was becoming desperation.