West Texas Nights

by Sherryl Woods

  Thinking back on it, she sighed. It had felt so right being there with him. A curious kind of peace had stolen through her, even as her pulse had skipped to an erotic, when-will-he-kiss-me beat. She hadn’t thought there could be so much anticipation between a man and a woman who’d already made love, who’d already discovered the most intimate secrets of each other’s bodies. But it had been as if they were starting over fresh, as if they’d met for the first time that night, as if there were a million sensual fantasies still to explore.

  And she’d agreed to see him again tonight, this time for a real date, just the two of them. They were going to Garden City for dinner and a movie, assuming they could agree on one, given his fondness for action and hers for comedy. She’d had every piece of clothing she’d brought to Texas spread out on her bed at one time or another since dawn, trying to choose the perfect first-date outfit. Half had made their way back into the closet, deemed unsuitable. Unsatisfied with the choices left, she was now reconsidering.

  “Did I miss the tornado that blew through here?” Laurie asked, standing in the doorway, her expression quizzical.

  “I’m trying to decide what to wear,” Val said, considering a simple silk blouse and raw silk slacks in a matching shade of teal. Too plain, she concluded, and tossed them atop the rest for the second time.

  “Would I be nuts to point out that you’re already dressed?” Laurie inquired, coming in to perch on a chair well out of the path of clothes flying from closet to bed with barely a hesitation in between.

  “For tonight,” Val replied succinctly, holding up a favorite dress in seduce-me red. “What do you think of this? Too much?”

  “Are we talking Slade?”

  Val nodded.

  “You’ll have him cross-eyed and panting.”

  “Perfect,” Val said, hanging the dress on a hook on the closet door so she could stand back and get the full effect. This dress had served her well in the past when she’d wanted to walk into a room and turn up the heat. That was precisely why she’d dismissed it earlier. She wasn’t sure heat was what tonight called for. In fact, she was pretty sure it called for caution and quiet reason. If Slade touched her, though, reason was likely to fly straight out the window. She’d missed those insidious caresses that could carry her to a whole other universe.

  “Where are you going?” Laurie asked.

  “Dinner and the movies.”

  Laurie shook her head. “Not in that dress. That dress belongs on a dance floor, where he can see it. If you’re in a movie, you could be wearing jeans and a T-shirt and it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Good point. We’ll go dancing,” she said, all but sold on the dress and hang the nagging voice in her head that called for something more sensible. Being in Slade’s arms on a dance floor held too much appeal. Being in Slade’s arms at all was practically irresistible.

  “Wait a second.” Laurie was shaking her head before Val finished the statement. “His leg, remember? He might hate the idea of dancing.”

  “We’ve danced at parties here,” Val argued.

  “Among friends.”

  “He was a little awkward at first, but after that he was into it,” Val insisted. She grinned. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’ll be glad to get his hands on me any way he can. He seems to have crossed the great divide between being pursued and becoming the pursuer.”

  “And how do you feel being on the other side?” Laurie asked.

  She considered the question thoughtfully. “Scared. Giddy. Confused.”

  “Confused? Because you’re not sure of your feelings for him, after all?”

  “That, too. More important, though, I have no idea what turned him around.” She sank down on the edge of the bed, clutching the heels that matched the red dress. Because it was Laurie asking, she forced herself to dig deep and try to explain her greatest fear. “A week ago, it was all about Annie. Now it seems to be about Slade and me. Did he just wake up one morning and decide he wanted me? Or is this some last-ditch effort to get me for Annie, after all?”

  “So you still don’t trust his motives?” Laurie asked.

  “Would you?”

  “Probably not, which is why dating is good. If this is all pretense just to win you over, you’ll know soon enough. There’s not a man on earth who can actually fake being in love. They just aren’t clever enough to fool a woman, not for long, anyway.”

  “Are you so sure about that?” Val asked, unable to keep a plaintive note out of her voice. “What if I get suckered in, just the way he wants me to, and find out I’m wrong?”

  To her dismay, Laurie actually laughed at the question. “Sweetie, the person hasn’t been born yet who can fool you for long. You’re very intuitive about human nature. You’re warm and generous and caring, which is why Slade wants you in Annie’s life and his. He might be able to keep up a pretense for an evening or two, but you’ll see through it in a heartbeat. Besides, I don’t think Slade’s capable of long-term deception. Deep down, he’s too honest. That’s why he put his cards on the table in the first place. If he’s playing a different hand now, it’s because he wants to.”

  “I suppose.”

  Laurie gestured toward the red dress. “I say go for it. Make the man pay for holding out for so long, for making you doubt what you feel for him.”

  Val grinned. “That dress is meant to make a grown man weep, isn’t it?”

  “I imagine that depends on whether or not you decide to let him get you out of it,” Laurie replied with a wink. “Don’t let Harlan Patrick get a glimpse of it. He’ll be down at the barn warning Slade that you’re in a take-no-prisoners mood. It will ruin the element of surprise.”

  * * *

  Slade took one look at Val and almost abandoned his plans to take her to Garden City. The only place he wanted to take her was bed.

  He was pretty sure he’d never seen a dress that slithered over a body as cleverly or as seductively as the red silk scrap she was wearing. Worn in winter, it would guarantee frostbite. It bared shoulders and cleavage and legs. In fact, he was hardpressed to decide what it did cover beyond the necessities. He swallowed hard and tried to find his voice.

  “That’s...you look...”

  She twirled around. “You like it?”

  He ran a finger under his collar and wished he weren’t wearing a jacket. The temperature had to have gone up a good thirty degrees just since she’d opened the door.

  “It’s, um... Are you sure you want to wear that just to go to the movies?”

  “I thought maybe we’d go dancing instead,” she said, striding past him with that provocative sway that was devastating enough when she wasn’t encased in red silk. Practically overnight she’d turned into the perfect spokeswoman for sin.

  For once, at the mention of dancing, his bum leg was the last thing on his mind. His frantic gaze scanned her back, trying to find one single spot where he could put his hand on it in public without risking heart failure. Couldn’t be done, he concluded.

  Maybe he could talk her out of dancing between soup and dessert, he decided, following her to the car. He held open the door and practically choked as that fancy slip of a dress slid up her thighs as she got in. He caught the quirk of her lips and realized then and there that she knew exactly the effect she was having. Most parts of his body were already hard, but that smug little smile stiffened his resolve.

  Let the woman do her worst. He wasn’t going to back down or start running scared. In fact, this evening could get downright fascinating if he decided to call her on her game. Unless he counted the one and only time he’d taken Val into his bed, it had been a long time since he’d let a little casual flirting turn serious.

  “Dancing it is,” he said, as he slid behind the wheel and gave her a slow, thorough once-over that could have melted steel. He almost chuckled at the alarm that flickered in her eyes, right before she blinked
and looked away.

  He’d been planning dinner in a casual restaurant that was popular with some of the ranch hands, followed by a movie. He’d counted on being able to slip an arm around her shoulders or maybe snuggle her hand in his own while they’d sat in the darkened theater. That dress and her desire to go dancing had thrown his plans into disarray. He wasn’t sure he knew of any place in Garden City that could withstand the shock value of that dress. He glanced over at her.

  “Did you have someplace special in mind? I’m afraid my visits to Garden City haven’t taken me to the kind of place that dress belongs,” he admitted.

  Amusement flashed in her eyes again. “And what kind of place do you think it belongs?” she inquired in a tone that challenged him to tred diplomatically.

  “Someplace fancy. Elegant. You know, where they do the waltz, instead of the two-step.” He didn’t say he was afraid anything as energetic as the two-step would have her shimmying right out of that dress.

  She grinned. “Good answer. Laurie mentioned that the Garden City Hotel has a new dining room that brings in a band on Saturdays.”

  It would also have beds upstairs. How convenient, Slade thought, already well beyond the last dance in his imagination. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he could hold out past the appetizers.

  “Sounds good,” he said, his throat tight.

  Those were the last words he managed to choke out until they reached the neighboring town and its quaint historic district. The Garden City Hotel was a very old, wooden structure that maintained its image as one of the city’s original buildings. It would have suited the set of a Western movie just fine.

  Inside, however, was another story. The owners had updated and refurbished the interior to create an elegant ambiance. Slade figured the restaurant was guaranteed to blow his food budget for the month. Val was worth it, though. She was the kind of woman who belonged in a place like this. In fact, she’d probably grown accustomed to luxuries while she was on the road with Laurie. He wondered if she could accept that luxuries like this came along once in a blue moon on a ranch hand’s salary.

  Heads turned as she sashayed across the lobby to the dining room. Slade credited the dress for the reaction, but the truth was Val in burlap could have made heads turn. She had a kind of presence that no other woman he’d dated had had. The Adams women had it. He’d always figured it came with money, but maybe it had more to do with self-confidence. Val exuded it. A pride and possessiveness he had no right to feel welled up inside him just the same.

  The dining room was lit with candles on every table, setting a romantic mood—or trying to keep folks from seeing the prices on the menu, Slade thought cynically. A small band was tuning up on a raised platform at the far end of the room. The dance floor in front of them was large enough to accommodate a dozen couples and no more. The whole ambiance was intimate, suggesting that those lucky enough to be there were part of a very exclusive club.

  The maître d’ clucked over their lack of a reservation until Slade slipped him a twenty-dollar bill. Amazingly enough a table right beside the dance floor suddenly became available. Val followed the man in his stiff black suit, while Slade brought up the rear and admired the view. He figured if his heart gave out before the night was over, he’d die a happy man.

  “Madame,” the maître d’ said, holding Val’s chair. He kept his gaze discreetly averted as she sat down, Slade noticed. Good thing, he thought. He would have hated to have to punch the guy out for ogling her legs.

  “Nice place,” he said, after they were alone.

  Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Do you really like it?”

  “What’s not to like? The music’s promising. The menu weighs a ton and the wine list has enough French on it to guarantee there’s a decent champagne on there.”

  “Champagne?”

  “It’s not just for celebrations, darlin’. And even if it were, I’d say this occasion calls for it.”

  “Oh, really? Why is that?”

  “It’s our first date.” He glanced over the wine list, beckoned the wine steward and ordered a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

  Val’s eyes widened with surprise. “Isn’t that a little expensive? A nice, domestic white wine would do.”

  “Not tonight,” he said tersely, determined to prove he knew how to treat a lady. There’d been a time when he’d swilled down fancy champagne after every rodeo victory. Despite his preference for an occasional beer and a burger, he knew his way around in a place like this. For reasons he couldn’t entirely explain, he set out to prove it. “Mind if I order for both of us?”

  Val gave him a puzzled look, but nodded.

  He ordered escargots, chateaubriand for two, and salads after the meal. “We’ll decide on dessert later,” he told the waiter.

  One glance across the table told him he’d startled her with his choices, with his easy familiarity with the menu.

  “Snails?” she whispered in a choked voice.

  “Sure. The place is French, isn’t it? They’re a delicacy.”

  “If you say so.”

  He grinned at her reaction, then leaned across the table to confide, “Personally, I stick to dipping the bread in all that garlic butter, but you can do what you want.”

  Laughter bubbled up and erupted. “Oh, thank God. I was terrified you were actually going to expect me to eat them.”

  “Nope. We’ll just admire them for a while, then send them on their way.”

  “Won’t the waiter wonder about that?”

  “Not in a place like this,” Slade decreed. “They’re paid to keep their thoughts to themselves.”

  After the champagne had been poured, he held out his hand. “Care to dance?”

  Val stood up at once and moved gracefully into his arms. The band had started with something slow and old-fashioned, a Glenn Miller tune, if Slade wasn’t mistaken. The tempo made it easy for him to keep time. Holding Val inspired him.

  He could hardly tell where soft skin gave way to silky fabric beneath his touch. Her scent rose to fill his head with thoughts of being outdoors in a garden, with her in his arms under the stars. The brush of her thighs against his made his pulse pound and sent blood rushing to a part of his anatomy that had been on the verge of arousal ever since he’d caught his first glimpse of her earlier. Val knew it, too, but instead of pulling away, she tucked herself even closer, snuggling against him in a way that was downright dangerous.

  “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart,” he warned softly.

  Wide eyes gazed up at him. “Is that so?”

  “Another couple of minutes and we’ll miss dinner altogether.”

  A smile came and went. “It’s just snails and steak. We can have that anytime.”

  Slade gave her a startled look. She’d sounded half-serious. “What are you suggesting? Since you were the one who wanted to go dancing and this is our very first turn around the floor, I think you’d better spell it out for me.”

  She gave him a brazen look that went with the red dress. “I’m suggesting we grab that bottle of champagne and make a run for it. I hear the rooms have really, really big beds.”

  Slade’s pulse ricocheted wildly. “And if they’re all taken?”

  “Use your imagination, cowboy. It’s been working overtime all night, anyway.”

  But nothing he’d imagined had involved making love in the front seat of a truck. “You stay put and fend off those snails. I’ll get a room,” he declared with grim determination.

  Ten minutes later, they were upstairs in a room dominated by a king-size bed. The heat that had been simmering on low between them all night turned into a bonfire when he discovered that all Val had on under that dress were panties and a red garter belt. He swallowed hard as she stood before him and daintily rolled down her hose to remove them.

  “Lady, you are dangerous,” he murmured as he touched a
fingertip to one nipple and watched it harden. When he touched the same place with his tongue, she gasped and all but came apart.

  “Now,” she pleaded. “Please, Slade. I want you inside me now.”

  Her cry was almost his undoing. He slipped inside her moist heat with all the best intentions to take it slow, but she wouldn’t allow it. The frantic rise and fall of her hips demanded a pace that tugged him toward oblivion. When her body shattered with a violent climax, she carried him along, then sank back against the pillows with a sigh of pure contentment.

  Still trying to catch his breath, he regarded her with amusement. “Pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” she claimed, her expression all innocence despite the position of their bodies.

  “This evening has gone exactly the way you planned.” It sounded more like an accusation than he’d intended.

  Her gaze darkened. “Are you complaining?”

  “About this? Never,” he said. “I’m just a little confused about how we ended up here.”

  “We’re two adults, Slade. If we want to sleep together, we certainly can. We’re not hurting anyone.”

  “So this is just about sex?” he asked, his tone lethal. “You had some kind of an itch and I happened to be around to scratch it?”

  She blinked at the question and something that could have been hurt shadowed her eyes, but she recovered quickly. “That’s a little crude, but yes,” she said.

  Slade rolled to the side of the bed and sat up. He was suddenly so furious it took every ounce of restraint he possessed to keep from yelling at her.

  “I think we must have gotten our signals crossed,” he said eventually. “You see, when I climbed into this bed, it was with the intention of making love to a woman I care about, just like it was the last time we were together.”