Tangled With A Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston Book 8)

by Yvonne Lindsay

  “Wow. You look amazing.”

  “Thank you. You look very nice, too,” she answered and stepped through the door, making sure it was locked behind her.

  “Nice? I’ll have you know I went to a great deal of effort for you tonight.”

  His tone sounded wounded, but there was no doubt he was teasing her. It was another of the things she enjoyed about being with him. Nothing was too serious. Even when making love they could joke with each other.

  “And I appreciate that,” she said, patting him on the chest before fingering the bolo. “I especially like this.”

  “It was my grandfather’s. I think he’d have liked you. He enjoyed the company of strong women.”

  Zoe felt a sense of accomplishment at the compliment. Sure, she knew that Cord found her sexually attractive, but underneath all that she’d sensed a reserve—as if she wasn’t quite the kind of woman he wanted but, for the same reasons that drew her to him, he simply couldn’t resist her.

  “C’mon,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s go.”

  The warmth of his skin permeated her own, sending that intriguing buzz of electrical current through her as they walked to his car. She took a step back.

  “This is yours?”

  She gestured to the sleek and shiny low-slung black Maserati that graced the parking lot next to her own dusty vehicle.

  “Like it?” he asked before opening the passenger door and holding it for her.

  “It’s beautiful. I had no idea you had something like this. I was expecting the truck.”

  Cord smiled in response. “A beautiful woman deserves a beautiful form of transport.”

  He closed the door and went around to his side of the car. They completed the journey out to the Texas Cattleman’s Club mostly in silence, but it didn’t feel awkward. Cord had reached across and taken her hand, resting it beneath his own on his thigh as he drove. She enjoyed the intimacy of the action about as much as she enjoyed the man sitting beside her.

  “So, the food is good here?” she commented as they arrived out front of the club and pulled up next to the car valet who’d stepped forward. “It looks popular.”

  “Popular is an understatement. This place is a part of the fabric of Royal.”

  He put a hand to the small of her back and guided her through the front door.

  * * *

  Cord couldn’t believe his self-restraint. Seeing Zoe framed in the doorway of her motel room dressed like she’d stepped off the cover of some glossy European fashion magazine had forced him to call on every ounce of gentlemanlike behavior to prevent himself from walking her straight back into the room and closing the door behind them. All he’d wanted to do in that instant was lose himself in her, and the truth of that frightened him. Sure, he’d started this in an attempt to keep her distracted and away from Jesse while he tended to Janet. But right now Cord couldn’t say his motives were entirely philanthropic. In fact, they were the complete opposite.

  Even now, with his hand against the small of her back as they entered the club, he was fighting with the base urge to turn her right around and back out to the car and take her home again. He wasn’t in the mood for polite company and the conversation that he knew being seen with a woman here tonight would engender. What the hell had he been thinking?

  “Mr. Galicia, good to see you this evening. Your table is ready. Please, come with me,” the maître d’ said as they entered the restaurant.

  Cord let his hand drop from Zoe’s back and gestured for her to follow the maître d’ while he kept a circumspect two paces behind her. All the better to see the delicious curves of her butt in that dress, his alter ego reminded him. He clamped down on the thought but not before he felt the ripple of arousal the view before him wrought. The food tonight was going to have to be spectacular to distract him from what seeing her in that dress did to him. And the shoes... He felt another ripple shudder through him. Those heels were seriously sexy. He wondered, briefly, if she’d keep them on later for him, if he asked real nice.

  You’re not doing yourself any favors, he growled at himself. He watched as Zoe was seated at the table and felt a somewhat feral burst of protectiveness as the maître d’s gaze lingered a second too long on Zoe’s exposed cleavage as he shook out her napkin and laid it across her lap. Forcing himself to uncurl the fingers that had instinctively formed into fists, he took his seat and listened with half an ear as the man told them he’d send their waiter along shortly.

  “Nice place,” Zoe said, looking around.

  “I’m sure you’ve seen similar in Houston,” he said a little flatly.

  Somehow seeing the way that guy had stared at Zoe had taken a little of the shine off the evening for him. In fact, he was beginning to question what he’d been thinking inviting her here. Showing off? Letting the city girl know he could give her as good as she was used to? Idiot, he told himself. They weren’t even a couple in the true sense of the word. He had no right to feel possessive about her, no matter how intimately he knew her body.

  “Not quite as sumptuous as this,” she said with a smile and took a sip from her water glass.

  The wine waiter came across and took their orders, shortly followed by the waiter bringing menus and letting them know the specials. Cord was grateful for the respite when they took their time selecting their appetizers and mains, and a little surprised, too, when he discovered they’d each chosen the same.

  “Great minds think alike, hmm?” Zoe said with a warm smile that sent a wave of lust straight to his groin.

  “Fools seldom differ,” he countered, still a little surly.

  Zoe reached across the table and took his hand. “Is everything okay? Would you rather we left?”

  He shook his head. Of course she’d notice his change in mood. She was trained to observe these sorts of things. To study the human condition and ascertain the difference between the truth and the lies. Was that what she was doing with him all the time? Did she realize that while he’d started using sex as a distraction tactic, it had quickly become something else that he didn’t want to define? He realized she was waiting for an answer and gave her fingers a squeeze.

  “No, it’s nothing. It’s been a while since I’ve dined here is all.”

  In fact, the last time he’d eaten here was when he proposed to Britney, just before she left for training. The memory made his heart ache. Just two short years ago and yet it felt like a lifetime. And here he was, overlaying a new memory. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed with himself or pleased that he was finally letting go. One thing was for sure, though—this thing with Zoe wouldn’t go any further than the time she was here in Royal. He’d make sure of it. He couldn’t handle the constant fear of living with a woman who carried a gun for a living again. His worst nightmare had already been realized once; there was no way he was tempting fate again.

  The food, when it came, was sublime, and there was something inherently sensuous about the way Zoe enjoyed her food. He found he took pleasure in watching her, listening to the cadence of her voice as they talked, simply enjoying her presence. The last of his bad mood brushed away, and they were lingering over coffee and sharing a truly delicate serving of crème brûlée when he became aware of someone stopping beside their table.

  “Cord, darling, how are you? We haven’t seen you here in ages.”

  Cord rose to his feet, identifying one of his mother’s Women’s Institute cronies and her long-suffering husband hovering right behind her.

  “Mrs. Radison, good to see you looking so well.”

  “Oh, you charmer, you. I received an email from your mom the other day. Seems like they’re enjoying Palm Springs. And who is this?”

  Just like that, the woman dispensed with the niceties and got straight to the point that he knew had led her to stop at his table. He had no doubt that the fact he’d been out with a new woman would be al
l around the gossips in town within five minutes of Olive Radison leaving the building. She put the word social in capital letters when it came to social media.

  “Zoe Warren, please meet Olive Radison and her husband, Bert,” Cord said, hoping this encounter would be over soon.

  “Pleased to meet you, dear,” Olive Radison purred. “So lovely to see Cord moving on. After all, it’s been a while now, hasn’t it, dear?” She patted Cord gently on the cheek, oblivious to the way his body had stiffened as if set in concrete. “Come along, Bert. We mustn’t keep these young people from enjoying one another’s company any longer.”

  And then she was gone, leaving behind a generous waft of her floral fragrance and a sense of discomfort settling on Cord’s shoulders like a leaden cloak.

  “Sorry about that. One of my mom’s friends.”

  “No problem. She seemed friendly,” Zoe commented lightly.

  But there was something there in her gaze now that wasn’t there before. Questions that remained unasked and, on his part, unanswered. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get out of here.

  “You done?” he asked abruptly.

  Zoe’s eyes flicked to his, and she stared at him a moment before giving him a quick nod. “Sure,” she answered, gathering up her bag and rising from her chair. “I’ll just go to the bathroom. Be back in a minute.”

  The dessert sat on the table, still unfinished, just like so many other things between them, he thought as he gestured for the bill. He’d settled the account by the time she returned to the dining room, and he rose to meet her halfway across the room. Together they went out to wait for the valet to bring his car around. The trip back to her motel felt a whole lot longer than the journey out. It was only as they neared the motel that they saw the flash of red lights and saw the fire engines and hoses lining the street.

  “What the hell?” Zoe cried out as it became apparent it was the motel that had been on fire.

  Cord pulled over and together they approached the area where the motel manager had assembled with a few of the occupants.

  “What’s going on?” Zoe asked when the woman turned to her to give her attention.

  “I’m sorry, hon. But it seems someone’s phone charger started a fire in the end unit. Once it took hold in the roof it spread quickly. There are fire walls between the units, but even so, there is a lot of smoke and water damage. I’m not sure they’ll be allowing anyone back in to stay tonight. We’ll have to reassess in the morning.”

  “Our things? Can we retrieve them?”

  “I’ll speak to the fire chief when he’s free, okay, hon? Have you got somewhere else you can stay tonight?”

  “She’s staying with me,” Cord said firmly.

  “Thank goodness,” the manager said with obvious relief. “The other motel near here is closed for renovations, and the hotel in town is able to put up a few people, but they’re almost at capacity themselves, so we’re short of beds.”

  Cord felt Zoe shiver as the manager moved away to where it looked like a command center had been established. He identified the fire chief there, and Nate Battle, too.

  “My weapon is in there and my computer. I have to be able to clear my things from my room safe,” Zoe said firmly. “I should go and speak to the sheriff.”

  That cold slice of reality cut through him again. Every time he let himself relax a little, forget a little, that one piece of hell-no-don’t-go-there would come back and smack him clean in the face.

  “Let’s wait a bit. You’re a registered guest. They know you’re here. They’ll come to us when they can,” he said. “Are you warm enough?”

  Before she could answer, he shrugged off his jacket and laid it around her shoulders. He could see she was at the point of protesting but thankfully she didn’t. The night air was cooler than it had been, and she sure wasn’t dressed for the climate.

  It was another hour before the fire crew deemed it safe for those in units farthest from the burned-out room to enter their rooms and retrieve their belongings. Zoe didn’t waste a second. Cord went with her, packing her toiletries in the bathroom as she grabbed her small case and her gun and laptop.

  “This it?” he asked as he came through from the bathroom.

  She gave him a brusque nod.

  “You sure pack light.”

  “I wasn’t planning on staying long.”

  Cord felt a twinge of guilt at her comment. She would be staying a whole lot longer now, thanks to him and his little discussion with Frank.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. At least you know you can stay at my place.”

  “Your ranch is hardly the hub of activity here in Royal. What if I get bored?”

  She gave him a challenging look.

  “Then it will be up to me, as your host, to ensure you don’t get bored, won’t it? C’mon, let’s go. The stink of this place is getting right up my nose.”

  * * *

  Zoe followed the Maserati out to the ranch. She didn’t want to be stranded when the call came to say she could conduct the interview with Stevens, and she couldn’t see Cord letting her use the Maserati, although the idea had merit.

  She pulled her car up outside Cord’s house, swinging it off to one side of the driveway as he turned toward the multibay garage to the side of the property. He met her at the steps to the front door.

  “You could have parked in the garage,” he suggested.

  “I prefer to be parked for a quick getaway,” she said, only half joking.

  He snorted, and she could see he wasn’t entirely pleased with her response. Well, so what, she thought. This evening had gone from a very promising beginning to crash and, quite literally, burn in a very short space of time. And, she noticed as they entered the house, she had managed to get soot on her new dress into the bargain. There’d better be a decent dry cleaner in town.

  She fought back a yawn. With last night’s lack of sleep and the drama this evening, she felt exhausted.

  “You want your own room this time?” Cord asked as they went up the stairs.

  “Sure,” she said, annoyed that he’d offered.

  Something had crawled under his skin tonight, but she was too tired and irritated to try to figure it out. He showed her into a large room that, come morning, would be bathed in sunshine. The white bed linens reminded her of her somewhat-grimy state. Despite the fact the fire hadn’t reached her unit, the soot and smoke had managed to permeate everything she’d touched or brushed against.

  “Thanks,” she said abruptly as Cord showed her the door to the connecting bathroom. “I can manage from here.”

  He stopped directly in front of her. “Are you sure about that? You look done in, and—” he paused to sniff “—your stuff smells of smoke.”

  She groaned in frustration. “I’d better put my stuff through the wash before bed.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Leave it with me. Go.” He tugged the bag from her hands and pushed her gently in the direction of the bathroom. “Shower. I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on the bed.”

  He was gone before she could protest. All he’d left her with was her laptop case and her toiletries bag. Her gun was tucked into the side of the computer bag, and she’d seen his gaze flick past it. It was obvious he had some aversion to her carrying a weapon. Odd, when Texas was an open carry state. It wasn’t unusual to see any adult carrying a gun. But, she’d noticed, he didn’t carry one himself. She shrugged, putting the thought aside for now.

  The shower was everything she longed for. She let the hot water sluice over her body and wash away the tension of the evening. What had that all been about, anyway? Something from Cord’s past, obviously. And, just as obviously, something he hadn’t wanted to discuss. Maybe she could probe a little more about that tomorrow, but for now, she needed rest.

  She toweled off and padded through to the bedroom on bare feet
. Cord had been back in here, she noticed. The drapes had been drawn and a deliciously soft T-shirt had been laid on the bed. She picked up the garment and held it to her face, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. It felt sinfully wicked letting the wash-worn cotton skim over her body, almost like a lover’s caress. And just like that, weariness fled from her body and a sensual tug of longing infused her instead.

  He’d turned down her bed while she’d been showering, and she eyed the crisp white sheets with a mix of longing and aversion. It would take only a moment to head down the hallway to his room. She shook her head and yanked the sheets back a little farther. No, she was being strong. He’d clouded her mind quite enough for the very short time she’d known him. She needed to take charge of herself again.

  She slid into bed and tugged the comforter up to her chin and lay there as stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t more than a half hour when she heard a soft knock at her bedroom door. It was so soft that if she’d been asleep, she probably wouldn’t have heard it.

  “Yeah,” she called out.

  The door opened a crack. From the soft light of the hallway she saw Cord standing there, his torso naked and a pair of pajama pants barely clinging to his hips.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “I can’t get to sleep,” she admitted.

  “Need some company?”

  “Sure.”

  He was crossing the room before the word was fully spoken, and she felt him get into the bed beside her. A few seconds later and his strong arms had pulled her against him, her back to his front. She felt him kiss the top of her shoulder where his T-shirt had fallen away to expose her skin.

  “Go to sleep now,” he said softly.

  And, to her surprise, she did.

  Nine

  Zoe woke the next morning feeling like she’d had the best rest in a very long time. She rolled over to greet Cord, but he was already gone, and his side of the bed was cold, too, alerting her to the fact he’d been up for some time. Well, this was a working ranch, she reminded herself as she headed to the bathroom. When she came out, she was at a loss for what to wear and ended up staying in the T-shirt of Cord’s that she’d slept in.