by Helen Lacey
He tugged her hand toward his mouth and gently kissed her knuckles. “True.”
“So maybe you should stop doing that,” she said and pulled her hand away. “Even though it’s very...nice.”
“Sweet? Nice?” Amersen made a face. “Mon Dieu...I have clearly lost my...” His voice trailed off as he searched for the right word.
“Mojo?” she suggested and laughed, dipping a chunk of bread into the sauce on her plate. “Rest assured, Amersen, you are as charming as ever. And tempting. And if you weren’t leaving in a matter of days, I would probably drag you into my bedroom right now and have my way with you. But you are. So I won’t.”
God, he loved her honesty. It was like a blast of fresh air every time she spoke. She kept talking, about Christmas and needing to go gift shopping, and as he listened to her lovely voice, he realized he’d never been more attracted to a woman in his life. And he tried not to think about how all the blood in his body had surged to the lower half of his anatomy when she’d mentioned them having sex. He wanted to make love to her so much he could barely concentrate on what she was saying.
While she made coffee and prepped dessert, Amersen remained in his seat, elbows on the table, his chin resting on his linked hands, listening contentedly to her almost musical voice and thinking he’d never met a woman with more beautiful hair. It was long and lustrous, cascading down her back in a wave. He wanted to run his fingers through it, to anchor her head and kiss her again and again and taste the sweetness of her lips against his own.
“Texas sheet cake,” she said and placed a small plate in front of him, along with a steaming mug of coffee. “Kind of like a brownie, but gooier and delicious. Try it,” she offered and licked a little chocolate frosting off her thumb. “Trust me, once you taste it, you won’t go in for those fancy French desserts like crème brûlée or éclairs ever again.”
Amersen wasn’t about to tell her he didn’t like desserts all that much. Her sheer enthusiasm meant he’d spoon sugar into his mouth rather than curb her animation. He tasted the cake, ignoring the way the sugary sweetness wreaked havoc on his palate, doused it with a sip of coffee and then smiled. “Yes...very good.”
She smiled back, as though he’d gifted her some great compliment. “So, what will we be doing tomorrow?”
He shrugged lightly. “Breakfast. Shopping. Taking in the sights. I thought you could show me around this town of yours.”
“Deal,” she said and grinned. “And I’ll take you to a gift shop so you can take some souvenirs home. Nothing screams Texas more than a baseball cap in the colors of the state flag. Although it might ruin that sexy, just-tumbled-out-of-bed hair of yours.”
He grimaced. “Perhaps I’ll stick with a key ring instead.”
“Oh, live dangerously, Beaudin,” she said and laughed.
Amersen pushed back his chair and stood, moving around the table. He took her hand and silently asked her permission to draw her gently to her feet, pulling her close. Then he grasped her chin and tilted her head back.
“Is this dangerous enough?” he asked, feeling every inch of her pressed against him. He was half-aroused and not afraid to let her know it. Because he would never take any more than she was prepared to give willingly. And she knew that about him—he was certain of it. Her gaze was slumberous and tempting, her cheeks tinged pink, her mouth slightly parted, inviting his kiss. He moved closer, dipping his head to reach her lips, feeling her sigh like a breath as he angled his mouth over hers. Her hands moved around him, resting on his hips for a moment before she slid them up his back. Her lips tasted like chocolate, and he suddenly decided he did like sweets. When she thrust her tongue into his mouth, sensation arrowed directly to his groin.
He could have taken her there and then. He could have lifted her up and carried her to the counter, stripped off her jeans and panties, and plunged inside her, feeling her slick and tight around him, seeking the sensual oblivion he craved. But he wanted more than some quick, mindless release. He wanted to tease her, taste her, feel every inch of her skin with his mouth and hands. He wanted to watch her come apart beneath him. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her shudder, to absorb every pulse of pleasure as she reached orgasm. And he wanted to make her forget every other man she’d known.
“You can’t stay,” she moaned against his mouth. “You just can’t.”
“I know,” he muttered.
“Go,” she said, still kissing him. “Go...before I change my mind.”
Leaving her a few minutes later was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He yearned. He craved. He ached. And he knew she felt exactly the same way.
Amersen also knew that being just friends with Robin Harbin was totally out of the question.
Chapter Seven
By the time breakfast was done the next morning and they were back walking down East Sixth Street, it was close to 11:00 a.m. Robin had always enjoyed exploring the city, and having Amersen for company made the experience richer than she dared think about.
The night before, she’d been so close to asking him to stay and make love to her. Somehow, she’d come to her senses. Just. Making him leave was like slicing open her heart and denying her body what it craved most. She’d never experienced such rampant, overwhelming desire for anyone before. Not her high school boyfriend. And certainly not Trey. By comparison, her feelings for both other men had been lukewarm at best. But Amersen evoked passion she hadn’t known she possessed. It was like he had tapped into a part of her and awakened sexual desire and longing.
“What are you thinking about?”
Amersen’s voice jerked her back into the present. She certainly wasn’t going to admit she’d been thinking about how good it would be to have sex with him!
“Shopping,” she said and smiled, feeling a shot of electricity strike up her arm as their fingers accidentally touched. “We have to get that key ring, remember? I need to get something for Kate and Sterling for Christmas. And Otis, my right-hand man at the ranch. You can help me choose.”
He nodded. “Lead the way.”
In worn jeans that she suspected cost a fortune, a blue sweater and his leather jacket, he looked effortlessly masculine. He had a long black scarf around his neck that looked like it cost more than she earned in a week and did nothing to lessen the purely alpha male picture he evoked. His hair was mussed in its usual sexy style, his jaw had a sexy stubble that was too damned arousing for words and he smelled so good she could barely stand being more than six inches from his side. Just being around him was an aphrodisiac. And the more time they spent together, the more she wanted to share his company.
Which meant she was in for one hell of a ride.
And then a major fall.
They found their way to Second Street and browsed through several boutiques, where she found a lovely silk scarf for Kate. It was a modest purchase, but she still refused his offer to buy it for her. Money had never impressed Robin in the past, and she wasn’t going to change her view on that score. At a secondhand bookstore an hour later, she found a leather-bound edition of Gulliver’s Travels that Amersen suggested would be a thoughtful gift for Sterling. In a tourist shop he bought a few mementos for his family, including a baseball cap for his father. Then they spent a couple of hours comparing the Christmas windows at some of the more enthusiastic shops and boutiques in the neighborhood. By two o’clock they’d had lunch at a bistro, then by four thirty had moved on to drinks at a hip place on Ninth Street and later listened to a grunge band playing ’70s rock covers.
And not once did either of them mention their aborted make-out session the night before.
But Robin wasn’t fooled. They might not have ended up in bed together, but the sex was there between them, waving like a great red flag. She couldn’t believe that not having sex had become as complicated as if they’d dived between the sheets for a few
hours.
Instead, they talked. About anything and everything. She discovered that they liked much of the same music and had a proclivity for old movies. They talked politics and religion, economics and social media, and fashion and food. He told her about his wine brand and his ambitious plans to have it served at all the finest restaurants around the world. She told him of her dream of using her degree in plant biology as a stepping-stone for further research into natural remedies for some chronic ailments. He listened as she spoke, offering the occasional word of advice and counsel, but mostly he was interested and attentive, and as the day progressed, Robin felt as though they had more in common than not.
He was, she realized, perfect boyfriend material.
Even if, she suspected, he’d never considered himself right for the role with any woman. He was clearly a serial monogamist. He never cheated. Never dated more than one woman at a time. But he never made a commitment longer than a month, either. He opened up about his family and she learned he had a close relationship with his mother; when he showed her a picture, Robin was taken aback by the still young and still beautiful woman who had given birth to him twenty-five years earlier. Suzette Beaudin was forty-five but looked a decade younger, and her handsome husband was eight years her senior. A big contrast to Robin’s own parents, since Veronica had her first child at twenty-eight and her last ten years later.
“My dad was forty when I was born,” Robin said, sipping the wine she’d ordered at the obscure little bar a few doors down from the bistro. “So my parents have always seemed, you know, oldish.”
“Your father was there,” Amersen said quietly. “That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” she replied, realizing how ungrateful she must have sounded. “I didn’t mean I wasn’t... I’m sorry if that made you think about...you know...your...”
“Sperm donor?”
Her expression narrowed. “Why do you call him that?”
“It’s what he is,” Amersen replied, watching her over the rim of his glass. “Just a moment of failed contraception.”
She wanted to reach out and grasp his hand but didn’t. “It hurts you, though.”
He shrugged. “No. That would mean I cared. And I don’t.”
Robin wasn’t sure she believed him. “What if he tried to find you? Would you be—”
“Let’s go dancing,” he said and pushed his chair back, cutting off the rest of her words.
She looked toward the street. It was nearly dark and the streets were busy with pedestrians and a steady flow of traffic. Robin looked down at her jeans, crumpled blouse and jacket, and purple boots. She really wasn’t dressed for a nightclub. And foolishly, she didn’t want to share Amersen with a whole room full of onlookers, particularly any interested women who might circle around him.
Maybe they were just friends who happen to make out every now and then, but that didn’t mean she wanted him on the open market while they were out together.
“I have a better idea,” she said and got to her feet.
“Where are we going?” Amersen asked.
“You’ll see.”
* * *
It was an old theatre, he discovered some time later as he pulled up in the parking area and parked the rental car.
And it was busy with people. Old people, young people, families...all filing in through the wide doors.
They got out of the car and she waited until he was by her side, then grasped his hand and smiled. “You ready for this?”
He smiled and allowed her to lead him toward the entrance. “So, we’re at the movies?”
“It’s A Wonderful Life,” she explained, grinning. “They play it here every Saturday and Sunday night in the lead-up to Christmas. It’s my favorite Christmas movie.”
He wasn’t surprised. She looked delighted by the idea, and seeing her so happy did something to him inside. All day he’d had a strange feeling in the center of his chest. Sure, there was an undercurrent of attraction and desire between them—but this was something else. Something that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a calm, enjoyable day.
Never.
Because he’d never spent a day with anyone as intoxicating and lovely as Robin.
“Is this okay?” she asked, clearly sensing his surprise.
Amersen nodded. “Sure. Great.”
They waited in line for a few minutes to purchase tickets and were quickly ushered up to the theater. The place was old but had obviously gone through a recent renovation.
“It was going to be demolished,” she said, as though reading his thoughts. “But the local historical society fought the plans and took the developers to court, and thankfully the place was listed on the historical buildings register. They had a good lawyer,” she said and grinned. “My brother Reece does a lot of pro bono work. And he’s something of a tree hugger and wasn’t going to allow this beautiful building to be pulled down.”
The pride and admiration in her voice couldn’t be denied. He liked how close she was to her family and it made him miss his own more than he’d believed possible. But he was also torn, knowing that he would miss Robin once he returned home.
They found seats at the rear of the theater, up high and with a great view of the screen. When she shivered, he pulled off his scarf and draped it around her neck, shushing her as she protested.
“Be back in a minute,” he said with a grin.
He headed back out to the foyer, and when he returned with a hot chocolate for her and a small bag of warm doughnuts, she groaned her approval. He sat down and passed her the drink.
“I know I shouldn’t be hungry, since we’ve pretty much been grazing all day, but this was a great idea,” she said and waved a sugared doughnut. “Want a bite?”
There was innuendo and flirtation in her words, and Amersen met her seductive gaze, saying nothing.
“No?” she queried.
He chuckled. “I don’t eat sweets.”
Her eyes widened, and then she frowned. “But last night you—”
“An aberration,” he said and drank his black coffee.
She looked indignant for a moment and then laughed. “Good...more for me. Although if I keep eating at this rate, I’ll put on ten pounds before the weekend is over.”
Amersen looked straight ahead at the blank movie screen. “You have a very sexy body, Robin. Ten pounds wouldn’t change that.”
She sighed, then grabbed his hand and laid it on her thigh. “You know, you could probably read a phone book to me, and with your accent, it would be the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard.” She nibbled on the doughnut. “My friend Francesca reckons that her English husband has the sexy-accent thing going, but I don’t know. I think the French accent is more...seductive. Next time I see Francesca and Keaton, I’ll have to compare.”
Caution rose up his spine and Amersen stilled instantly. “You mean Keaton Whitfield?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I think he uses both Whitfield and Fortune now. He’s one of those illegitimate Fortunes. Seems like one pops up every now and then.”
Amersen swallowed the rising panic in his throat. His breath felt heavy in his chest, but thankfully he had an inhaler in his pocket if the need arose.
“You said you knew his wife?” he asked, his chest tight, remembering how her parents had spoken about knowing several of Gerald Robinson’s illegitimate children.
“We went to college together. We don’t hang out much now or anything because we’re both so busy, but we catch up for coffee every couple of months.” She sipped her hot chocolate. “Do you know Keaton?”
“We’ve never met,” Amersen replied, thinking it wasn’t exactly a lie. He had never met his half sibling in person. Every communication from the oth
er man or Ben Fortune Robinson had been via email—until the note he’d left at the hotel the other night. Perhaps Robin had mentioned to Whitfield’s wife that Amersen was in town... Whatever the circumstance, it was all seeming a little too close for comfort.
The movie credits started, and Amersen heaved a relieved sigh. He didn’t want to think about anything other than enjoying the remainder of the evening. Robin’s attention was immediately taken up with the movie, and over the course of the following couple of hours, he watched as she sighed, laughed and cried as she absorbed the movie and its whole sappy nonsense. She edged closer to him as the film progressed, and by the time the end came, her head was tucked neatly against his shoulder, their thighs pressed intimately together. As people started moving to leave the theater, Amersen heard her stifle a yawn.
“Come on, tu dors debout,” he said, getting to his feet as he translated. “Sleepyhead. Time for me to get you home.”
She nodded, and they quickly packed up their belongings and headed back to the car.
The drive back to her ranch was quiet, with a tinge of regret in the air, as though they both knew their day together was coming to an end. If she invited him in, he knew they would make love. It was inevitable.
But she didn’t.
He walked her to her door, noticed that a light flicked on in the main house, and then he waited while she unlocked the screen. “So, good night,” he said and passed her the shopping bags.
“Good night, Amersen. Thank you for a lovely day.”
He wanted to kiss her so much that his mouth tingled and his gut burned. “I had a nice time today.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “So, kiss me good-night and go back to your hotel.”
“Good night,” he said, drawing on every ounce of his self-control to press his lips to her cheek and not ravage her mouth with his own.
“I’ll see you Monday,” she said quietly, stepping back.
He’d already explained that his flight left Monday afternoon and that he would be stopping by Sterling’s Fortune to see Kate before he flew out of Austin. “If you would like to have dinner tomorrow night, I will be at the hotel. Say, around six?”
