Did his change of subject mean he didn’t want to talk about the more serious things anymore or that his spirits had lifted?
Tanya wasn’t sensing the low spirits so much in him now but she didn’t want to take credit for that, so she told herself Tate was just ready to talk about something else.
Which he continued to do when he said, “Did I tell you how fantastic you look?”
“I believe there was a wow involved.”
“Looking at you, being there with you tonight was the only thing that got me through it. Thanks for coming with me.”
“It was nice,” she said, because while it might not have been perfect, it had been nice enough.
“Say you’ll come to the Labor Day party on Monday night, too, so I can start appreciating that.”
Tanya laughed. “I don’t know….”
“All you need to know is that I want you there,” he said.
His eyes were searching her face the way an art lover might look at a portrait—studying it as intently as if he were memorizing it. Things had changed in the atmosphere around them—calmed, quieted, turned somehow sensual—and that was so much better than before that Tanya just breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Sometimes it seems like you’re the older and wiser of the two of us,” Tate said then, with an engaging smile.
“Oh, that’s always what a girl wants to hear,” Tanya joked, getting lost in the heat of that sky-blue gaze, in staring back into the face she couldn’t seem to get enough of.
He grinned and slid his hand from the sofa back to mold his palm to the side of her neck. His fingertips were at her nape, his thumb was just behind her jaw and there was a nearly infinitesimal urging for her to tip her head up to him.
Tanya didn’t resist, making it easy for him to lean forward and find her lips with his.
And that kiss was where the pattern of not-quite perfects ended, because it was perfect. So perfect that the moment it began, everything else seemed to fall away and leave nothing but the two of them.
How they’d achieved that kind of harmony so soon, Tanya couldn’t fathom, but his mouth on hers felt absolutely natural, and she thought what she’d thought when he’d held her hand earlier—that it was as if they’d been doing it forever.
Lips parted in unison, breaths mingled and when his tongue came to hers it was like a secret only they could share.
Tate’s right arm slipped under her thighs, bringing them over his so they could be closer still. Then that arm went around her, holding her while tongues cavorted, claiming each other with abandon.
Tanya’s hands went to Tate’s chest—a solid wall of steel that was nothing like her own breasts burgeoning from the tight, strapless dress and yearning for his touch.
No, no, no—that couldn’t happen, she told herself. She wouldn’t go that far.
But the craving was stubborn and stayed. Grew, in fact, as both his hands coursed around to the exposed flesh of her back and inspired more goose bumps.
Big, warm, adept hands that she knew would work magic on her far more sensitive front if only that was where they were….
Their kiss was deepening, mouths were open even wider, tongues were engaged in a sexy skirmish, things were awakening in Tanya that were wiping away rational thought and replacing it with pure, raw desire.
She felt her nipples harden and strain against the near prison they were bound in, and as she ran her hands around to Tate’s back and pressed her fingers into the expanse of muscle there she wondered if she took a deep enough breath and arched her spine a little, if her breasts might just escape on their own….
But it didn’t take anything quite that outrageous to draw Tate’s attention in that direction as one of his hands began a slow path from her back to her side, and then to her breast. Cupping it, molding his palm around it the way he’d molded it to her neck before, he kneaded and caressed, pushed and pulled and tormented her by making her just want more.
But popping out of her dress apparently wouldn’t have been as easy as a deep breath and an arch because Tate’s hold was firm and even when he lifted more than she could have, the dress held tight.
Damn designer dress!
And oh, how she was dying to feel his touch on her bare breast!
She pulsed into his massaging hand, sighing softly when he let a single fingertip trail along the bodice’s edge to tantalize the naked flesh above it.
But still she wanted more. Especially when she felt him harden at her thigh…
His mouth abandoned hers, kissing the hollow of her throat, the center of her breastbone, reaching the swell of one breast with the tip of his tongue as he hooked a finger between her cleavage and the dress and tried to make some headway like that.
Her nipples were both hard little gems of need but the dress offered no leeway and after a few attempts, Tate gave up on that route and reached for the zipper that ran from under her arm to her hip.
He discovered the hook that was at the top of it and unfastened that without too much trouble.
And Tanya thought, what would happen if she just gave in to this…
The dress would come off. Here in the den of the McCord mansion. His family’s home. The house where she had rarely been allowed past the kitchen. The house her mother had spent years and years cleaning….
Tate eased the zipper down a scant inch.
And Tanya thought, what about the morning? Would one of the staff come in and find some tiny remnant that would give her away? Even just a bright red string from this dress she was itching to get out of now. Then everyone would know that she’d been in the house, with Tate….
Tate eased the zipper down another inch and by then she really could have freed herself from the boned bodice with only a deep breath.
But instead she thought again what she’d thought at saner moments than this, what if she was only a distraction for Tate tonight, an escape from his dark mood….
And then, it was as if there were two of her. While half of her was still in his arms, wanting every bit of what he was clearly going to do, there was another part of her that was pulling away from his kiss, dragging her hands from his back and stopping him from unzipping that zipper any more.
“No, I can’t. Not here or now or…I can’t.”
“We can go out to the guesthouse,” he suggested, kissing her neck.
And it felt so good….
But she shook her head. “No. Not only not here. Not now—”
“Why not now?”
“It hasn’t been a good night for you. I don’t want to be…a diversion.” Not from his feelings about losing his friend, not from his adjusting to his new vision of life, not from Katie Whitcomb-Salgar, who he could well end up with after all….
He sat up straight and looked at Tanya. “You are very diverting, though. How could you be anything else looking like that?” he said with a smile that spread languidly across his handsome face.
But she wouldn’t allow herself to be only that and tonight she was too worried that that might be the case. So she again shook her head and merely repeated, “No.”
He kissed her once more—softly, sweetly, enticingly, weakening her willpower and making it all the more difficult for her to stick with her decision.
Before she caved, though, he ended that kiss and she tried to strengthen her resolve by rezipping her dress.
Then Tate gallantly replaced her feet on the floor and stood, taking her hand and tugging her to stand.
“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he said, continuing to hold her hand.
Tanya had just stepped away from the sofa when she remembered her evening bag.
“Wait,” she said, reaching for it where it was being almost swallowed by the couch cushion, where her mother or one of the maids or Edward might have found it and begun to wonder….
Relieved that that possibility had been avoided, she told herself it was better that she hadn’t let anything else happen to put her at risk.
If only her body agreed….
Tate led her through the house and out one of the rear doors. Neither of them said anything as they went to the housekeeper’s cottage, and Tanya tried to be content with having her hand nestled in his for the trip.
Then they reached the bungalow and under the porch light Tate faced her again, laying a gentle palm on her cheek and looking deeply into her eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you want. Or I won’t do whatever it is you don’t want me to do,” he said in a deep voice that was for her ears alone. “But I want one thing clear—you aren’t just a diversion to me. You’re much, much more. So much more that I’m not even sure what, exactly. Something unlike what anyone else has ever been to me. Something special, I know that….”
He kissed her once more, softly, lingering, making her light-headed with wanting him all over again.
Then his hand slid from her face, his other hand let go of hers and he turned and walked away.
It took Tanya a very long while to recall why it was that she’d stopped what she’d stopped in the den.
And even after she’d recalled it, there was still that part of her that wished she hadn’t stopped it at all.
That part of her that just wanted to be anywhere, at anytime, if she could be with him….
Chapter Eleven
K atie Whitcomb-Salgar was back.
Actually, when JoBeth had told Tanya that, JoBeth had called her young Miss Whitcomb-Salgar because that was how JoBeth referred to the daughter of the McCords’ friends. But in Tanya’s mind—as it repeated itself over and over again to torture her—Tanya kept thinking Katie Whitcomb-Salgar is back….
And it had repeated itself over and over, and tortured her. All day and all evening, and it was keeping her from going to bed as midnight on Saturday night approached.
Of course it didn’t help that her mother had relayed the information at breakfast and that even though Tanya had gone looking for Tate repeatedly throughout the day and evening, he was nowhere to be found.
No, he and Tanya hadn’t prearranged any time together today or tonight, and possibly he hadn’t brought it up because he’d had other plans. Ordinary, everyday, innocent, other plans. But what if those other plans hadn’t been so innocent? What if those other plans had been to see his longtime girlfriend on her first day home—that’s what had troubled Tanya. What was still troubling her. What if he was off rekindling his romance with the heiress his family had handpicked for him?
Not that I should care, Tanya told herself.
But she did care. Too much to sleep, and so she decided that maybe a walk in the fresh night air might help. That maybe all the thoughts of Tate and all the thoughts of Tate reconciling with Katie Whitcomb-Salgar would just drift away….
Tanya made sure to leave the bungalow silently so she didn’t wake her mother. Once she was outside she knew she should take her walk away from the McCord mansion, especially if she had any hope of walking off thoughts of Tate. But at dinner her mother had talked about the fact that the lights for the Labor Day party were all up and how the lighting people had outdone themselves. Tanya could tell by the glow coming through the trees and shrubbery that the lights were lit. And she wanted to see them. That was why she went in that direction, she told herself, to see the lights. Not to see if Tate had ever come home.
Because it’s none of my business…
Even if things had been heating up between them.
Even if he had said what he’d said the night before about her being more than a diversion to him. About her being special.
He could have just been trying to get her out of that dress she’d already taken to the dry cleaners so she could return it to him the way she’d told her mother she would.
As she stepped through the clearing into the backyard of the mansion it was the lights she was looking at. Hundreds and hundreds of tiny white lights wrapped all the tree trunks and lower branches and then canopied from there to the house itself. They spiraled up the poles that held the white tents where food and beverages would be served, they outlined the entire rear of the house and adorned the covered patio to cast a beautiful bright glow on the entire area.
It was only after a moment of enjoying the spectacle that Tanya realized there was someone gliding soundlessly through the pool water, doing laps.
It could have been Blake—he and Tate were about the same height, they had similar body types and coloring, and the swimmer’s face was in the water so that even when he raised it to take a breath he was swimming away from her and she couldn’t see it. But despite not having a clear view, it took only a moment for her to be sure it wasn’t Tate’s older brother. That it was Tate. And that he was alone.
Of course that didn’t mean that he hadn’t just come from hours and hours with Katie Whitcomb-Salgar, and Tanya knew she should turn and duck into the camouflage of the bushes once more before Tate saw her. That she should distance herself from him before he did get together with the other woman yet again, even if that hadn’t already happened.
But there he was, moving through the water by the power of his long, muscular arms, his shoulder blades glistening in the light, flexing with each stroke, and she was riveted to that spot, watching him, appreciating the view….
He reached the opposite end of the Olympic-size pool, disappeared under the water for a minute and then resurfaced for the return lap.
It was definitely Tate—now he was coming in her direction, and each time his face turned out of the drink Tanya could see it in all its chiseled glory. But he wasn’t yet aware of her, so she could still sneak away.
But she didn’t. She just had to know if he’d been with Katie Whitcomb-Salgar today….
Tanya took a few more steps toward the pool and by the time Tate reached the end nearest to her, something—her movement probably—had caught his attention. He stopped rather than making a blind turn the way he had at the other end, and stood so that his shoulders rose out of the chest-high water. He ran his massive surgeon’s hands up his face and into his hair to slick it back. Then he opened eyes that were the same color as the pool tiles and took in the sight of Tanya.
He smiled.
“Hi,” he greeted simply.
“Hi,” Tanya responded, sticking with simple even though there was nothing simple about what she was thinking and feeling at that moment.
“How about a swim?” he invited, spreading his arms wide and fanning his hands through the shimmering liquid around him.
“My suit’s packed in a storage box somewhere,” she said by way of declining.
His smile grew and one eyebrow arched devilishly as his gaze dropped to the tight tank top and blousy elastic-waisted short shorts she had on. “How about a clothes-optional swim?”
“I don’t think so,” Tanya said, hoping that he hadn’t come from the other woman only to flirt with her the way he had been most of the last week. Worse than being a diversion to fill his time until he patched things up with his fiancée would be to be juggled along with Katie Whitcomb-Salgar….
“I just heard on the car radio that it’s still ninety-two degrees. The water feels good,” he persisted.
“Where were you coming from?” Tanya asked before she realized she was going to, wishing she’d managed more subtlety.
“The hospital. I got called in to do an emergency surgery this morning. I’ve been in the O.R. for the last sixteen hours.”
Not with Katie Whitcomb-Salgar….
Tanya couldn’t help smiling. Grinning from ear to ear as relief washed over her and left her in an entirely different mood than she’d been in.
“What about you?” Tate asked. “I was going to whisk you away to take a look at some of the Foley oil wells for your report but since I didn’t get to do that, what were you up to today?”
So it was her he’d planned to see today, even if he hadn’t told her ahead of time….
Tanya went the rest of the way to the poolside, sat down on the edge and dangled her feet in the water, knowing she shouldn’t feel
as good as she did, that the very fact that she did was an indication of just how hard it would have hit her if Tate had been with the other woman during the last several hours. But she felt so good she just had to go with it.
“I worked,” she answered his question about how she’d spent the day. “I organized my notes and did some research on the Internet—apparently the Foleys were destined to be on the docket today no matter what because it was Foley research I did.”
“Did you find out anything interesting?”
“To me, because I didn’t really know much about them. I don’t know if it’s interesting to you. All I learned was that Rex Foley is the patriarch of the family and he recently left Foley Industries to start a consultancy. He has three kids. Zane, who now heads Foley Industries, Jason, who is the chief operating officer and a ladies’ man—so no wonder you’re worried about his involvement with Penny—and Travis, who’s the rancher in the family. There’s also one grandchild—Olivia—who is Zane’s six-year-old daughter by his late wife,” Tanya recited.
“Nothing new there for me,” Tate decreed. And he didn’t seem inclined to talk about his family’s archenemies because then he said, “What about your evening? You didn’t work tonight, too, did you?”
“Oh, tonight I had a hot date.”
She’d only been joking but his frown said that wasn’t how he’d taken it.
“Really? With an old boyfriend? Someone you knew before you moved away? Someone new?”
He was grilling her as if it was something he needed to know. Was that because he didn’t like the idea of her being with someone else any more than she’d liked the possibility that he might have been with his former fiancée?
The mere chance that that was the case made Tanya feel better and better. She had to suppress a smile as she considered torturing him a little by drawing the joke out, but then she decided against it.
“I was kidding,” she said. “I haven’t met anyone since I’ve been back and as for someone from my past, I don’t think Kevin—my high school sweetheart—would be interested in rekindling anything even if he was in Dallas—which he isn’t.”
Texas Cinderella Page 14
