Hot Texas Nights

by Janice Maynard

  How was she ever going to face him today? How was she going to pretend that she didn’t love him? Ethan being Ethan would put two and two together pretty quickly. Aria had been the instigator for the final portion of last night’s festivities. Eventually, it would occur to him that she had been hoping to break through his emotional barriers and force him to admit he loved her.

  And then he would be angry.

  If that had been her motive, it hadn’t been intentional. She didn’t want a man who had to be tricked into loving her. For years she’d honestly believed she was over her pointless crush on Ethan. That he had moved on, and so had she. But on a cold, late-winter day in Royal—when he came back into her life so abruptly—it was as if all the lies she had ever told herself had dissolved in the joy of being with him again.

  After dressing in a soft, slouchy sweatshirt and old jeans, she crept to the kitchen, desperate for a jolt of caffeine. Unfortunately, Ethan had beaten her to the coffeepot. He leaned against the counter, cup in hand, looking tired and rumpled, but incredibly sexy and appealing.

  Her stomach flipped hard. “Hey,” she said, searching desperately for a breezy tone. “Did you leave any for me?”

  His gaze was impossible to read. No smile. Just a smoldering sexuality that made her shiver inwardly. “Help yourself,” he said. “Cups are in the cabinet to the right of the sink.” His dark hair stuck up in several places, perhaps because she had yanked at it during certain never-to-be-forgotten moments.

  When she went up on tiptoe to grab an earthenware mug, she was aware of his gaze on her back. She tugged down her top self-consciously and poured herself a drink, adding sugar and milk generously.

  Still Ethan didn’t speak.

  Though she risked burning her tongue, she took a few sips right off, unable to deal with this conversation without her coffee.

  After three or four minutes, the silence was agonizing. She tried to smile, but it felt fake. “So what are you up to this morning? I assume you’ll be at the club site all day?”

  He refilled his cup. “Yes. I have back-to-back meetings from eleven till six. No rest for the weary.”

  Aria nodded. “I understand. I brought some dresses for the gala from home, but I thought I’d go out today and look for something new. Who can resist Houston stores? You know me. I love patronizing local businesses, but the fourth largest city in America? I’d be a fool not to at least window-shop. All the major designers are here. And I’m meeting friends for dinner, so don’t worry about me. I may be late.”

  He came around the island, took the coffee cup from her hand and kissed her. The kiss was firm and heated, but not to the level of last night’s excesses. Ethan’s eyes crinkled at the corners afterward as his eyes warmed in a smile. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Are you bashful this morning?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

  Ethan smoothed the hair from her face. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  She froze in his arms, sensing danger. “I suppose.”

  “How many men have you slept with? Before me?”

  “That’s not fair,” she said. “I’ve never asked to compare notes about our love lives.”

  “Humor me.” The teasing faded from his gaze. Now, if anything, he appeared troubled.

  Aria thought about lying. He would never know. She could embellish her number enough to make herself seem like a typical twenty-eight-year-old woman. Unfortunately, she had never been adept at juggling the truth. “Two,” she said baldly. “One during college and a second in Royal when you first moved to Houston.” She really didn’t know why he cared.

  Her answer seemed to bother him. Well, that was too damn bad. “You want to share your number with me, Ethan?”

  He scrubbed his face with both hands, wincing at her sarcasm. “I have to get ready for work.”

  “I know that.”

  “I’m sorry I won’t be around to entertain you today.”

  Something about his demeanor flicked her on the raw. “I’m not a child who needs to be appeased with a lollipop. Go do whatever you have to do. I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied. In fact, you can forget I’m even here.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, his expression thunderous. “If I could do that, Aria, we wouldn’t have a problem.”

  Thirteen

  Aria wished desperately that she could simply fly back to Royal immediately and never have to see Ethan again. Cowardice and avoidance held a definite appeal. She was desperately glad the new renovation project was keeping him occupied.

  It was better this way. Last night hadn’t changed anything at all. He still didn’t want to be tied to anyone, despite this false engagement. And if Aria allowed herself to weave silly daydreams about a future with Ethan, she was simply courting heartbreak.

  On any given day, shopping at exclusive salons for a fabulous party dress would have been fun and exciting. As it was, Aria found her mind wandering time and again as she tried on one dress after another. Usually, she dressed to please herself. Now, after what had happened in Ethan’s bed last night, it was impossible not to wonder what he would think when he saw her in satin and lace or even next to nothing at all.

  She started at Neiman Marcus, which was the safe and obvious choice for a fancy outfit. Though the original flagship store was in Dallas, the Houston location at the Galleria was none too shabby. Aria spent a pleasant morning trying on dresses, but didn’t find exactly what she was looking for. After lunch with a friend at a trendy downtown bistro in one of the high-rise hotels, she set out on foot to find a boutique she had heard about.

  The River Seine was the brainchild of a Parisian transplant who had married an American and brought with her a distinctly French sensibility when it came to fashion. Though starting a business from scratch was challenging, the younger set in Houston had embraced Marie’s designs with enthusiasm.

  Aria picked out several casual outfits for spring and summer and then settled in to the serious business of selecting a gown for the gala, one that would turn heads. One stubborn male head in particular.

  The theme for the fund-raising gala was “It’s All in Black & White.” Aria seldom wore black for formal occasions—she preferred a pop of color—but she found herself wanting to prove to Ethan that she was more sophisticated and worldly than he realized. Besides, white would look too virginal and sweet for what she had in mind.

  She wanted to make him hungry. She wanted him to see her as a sexy, desirable woman.

  One he couldn’t live without.

  Because the shop wasn’t large, the inventory was, out of necessity, limited. Aria was beginning to give up on finding the perfect dress when the exuberant thirtysomething Marie returned from the back one last time with an armful of black satin and tulle.

  “Try this one,” she said, beaming, her accent strong. “I forgot about it. A young lady took it home last week, and her parents wouldn’t let her keep it to wear for prom, because it was, how you say it, too, um...”

  Aria lifted an eyebrow. “Risqué?”

  “Oui.” Marie nodded. “The tags are still attached. If mademoiselle likes it, I give you nice discount, because it has been returned.”

  Aria took the dress into the tiny fitting room. As soon as she put it on, she understood exactly why a high-school girl had not been allowed to keep it. The dress was shockingly sensual.

  The black satin gown, overlaid with intricate, tiny patterned black lace, was strapless. That part was not so unusual. Subtle boning kept the bodice in place. But the neckline plunged almost to the waist in front. And in the back...well, there was no back to speak of at all.

  Aria managed to zip the frock and then stared at herself in the three-way mirror. Her breasts looked amazing, even without a bra. When she peered over her shoulder, she saw that the dress curved to fit her bottom as if had been sewn ont
o her. Below the knee, black tulle fluffed out, mermaid-style.

  Marie had supplied a pair of black satin gloves that hugged Aria’s arms and reached up past her elbows.

  The designer/saleslady stood just outside the curtain. “Well,” she said. “What do you think?”

  Aria turned in a circle. Though she was completely clothed, she felt as if she was naked. The dress was designed to showcase a woman’s body and to demand a man’s attention. “What about jewelry?” she asked faintly.

  Marie twitched the curtain. “May I look?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  The Frenchwoman put her hands to her cheeks. “Ooh, la la. This is how I want my designs to look. You have the perfect body. Not too plump, not too skinny. A man will think of all those curves and not be able to sleep at night, n’est-ce pas?”

  Her naughty amusement made Aria smile. “I’ve never worn anything so revealing.”

  The Frenchwoman shrugged, a Gallic gesture that indicated her disdain for such prudish concerns. “You are young and strong and attractive. Now is the time to enjoy your beauty. And besides, you show more of yourself at the beach, is not true?”

  Aria had to admit the designer had a point. Besides, it was supposed to be in the eighties tomorrow. “And the jewelry?”

  “An old-fashioned strand of jet beads to dangle in this lovely valley.” She brushed the tops of Aria’s breasts. “And matching earrings. But studs only. Not too much.”

  Aria trusted the other woman’s intuition when it came to accessories, though she was not at all sure about wearing the outrageous gown.

  Even so, she plunked down her American Express card and paid for all the glitz and glamour without a single qualm. Go big or go home. Wasn’t that what people said?

  She had the inescapable feeling that tonight and tomorrow night were her absolute last chances to win Ethan over to her way of thinking, to persuade him that he wasn’t his father, and that he wasn’t a man who would ever cheat on or hurt a woman he cared about.

  In her gut, she knew she was heading for heartbreak, but she couldn’t give up on him. Not yet.

  With no shopping left to do, she had all of her packages dispatched to Ethan’s condo. She would have preferred a quiet, intimate evening at Ethan’s place if he had asked her to change her plans. But he had been oddly silent all day. No texts. No phone calls.

  Because she wanted to give him his space, she went ahead with her original agenda and joined a trio of old college friends for the evening meal. The girls’ night was fun—plenty of laughter and catching up—but it didn’t fill the ache in her heart. She was already grieving the loss of Ethan. And it hadn’t even happened yet.

  It was almost ten when she returned to Ethan’s condo.

  The concierge was one she hadn’t met yet. “Has Mr. Barringer returned this evening?” she asked.

  “I haven’t seen him, ma’am. But I only came on duty at eight.”

  Aria thanked him and crossed to the bank of elevators. Was Ethan upstairs? Her heart pounded.

  It was a distinct letdown when she used her key, let herself in and found the apartment silent and deserted. She found all of her packages neatly stacked just inside the door, so she carried them to her room.

  After that, she spent an hour in the den watching HGTV. When she started yawning, she glanced at her watch and decided to call it a night. Disappointment curled in her stomach, but she ignored it staunchly. Ethan was a busy man. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was merely letting her stay with him so she wouldn’t have to go to a hotel.

  And he wasn’t lying dead in a ditch, or surely someone would have contacted her.

  Grinning wryly at her own dark humor, she went to her room and got ready for bed. Tomorrow night was the gala. The next morning, she would fly back to Royal. Her life would go back to normal.

  Why was that prospect so very dismal?

  * * *

  Ethan’s day had been one hellish snafu after another. Around four o’clock, he actually thought his luck was improving. He’d had visions of calling Aria and offering to take her out to dinner.

  But just about then, he’d discovered that two of the hotel walls they had planned on ripping out were load-bearing. Which meant calling in the architect and doing a quick revamp of the existing site plan to see how much had to be scrapped and which of the original blueprints could be left intact.

  It was like pulling a thread in a tapestry. One thing led to another and another and another.

  In the end, the worst of the problem had been resolved over a very, very late dinner at a local steakhouse, but the entire affair had left him exhausted.

  When he made it to the condo and quietly let himself in, it was after midnight. He had entertained the unlikely hope that Aria might have waited up for him.

  He should have known better. He’d done a pretty damn good job of convincing her that he didn’t need her.

  After stopping by his suite to strip off his shirt and kick off his shoes and socks, he wandered barefoot down the hall. If Aria’s door had been closed, he absolutely wouldn’t have opened it. That would have been creepy.

  But it was ajar. He put his hand on the edge and eased it the tiniest bit wider. She hadn’t closed the drapes, and in the full moon he could see her silhouette against the white sheets. She had one arm flung over her head. Her hair tumbled across the pillow.

  Again, that odd pain assaulted his chest. For the first time, he allowed himself to remember a moment years ago when he had wondered if they might make a go of it. Aria had been home from college on fall break, and the two of them had run into each other at a party.

  She had been incandescent that night. Young. Full of life. He had just found out that his father was divorcing his second wife. The knowledge had burned in Ethan’s gut like acid.

  Aria had been so pleased to see him, and the two of them had talked for an hour in a small corner of their host’s apartment. Ethan remembered the evening in vivid detail. Aria had worn ripped jeans and a fuzzy lavender cropped sweater that exposed her navel.

  Ethan’s bad mood had gradually dissipated. By the end of the night, he had actually felt lighthearted enough to walk Aria home and think about kissing her good-night.

  They’d been laughing and teasing each other. Old friends. Very old friends. Comfortable with each other, yet still very aware of the sexual vibe between them, the tug of attraction that had existed since they grew old enough to understand what such things meant.

  But at the final minute, he’d pulled himself back from the edge, because he hadn’t been sure.

  Even then, he had known Aria was disappointed in him.

  Now here they were, years later. The memory of last night made him want to steal inside that partly open door and climb into bed with her.

  He didn’t even have to have sex, though God knew that would have been amazing. Tonight, though, he craved the thought of sleeping with her. Just sleeping.

  The longer he stood there, the more his body ached. His sex hardened. His breathing quickened. He wanted her. Endlessly. Always. What was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  The next morning, he woke up early, ready to confront his beautiful houseguest and make plans for the big evening. His mood took a dive when he found a note on the kitchen table.

  I’m headed down to the beach at Galveston with a friend. I’ll be back in plenty of time to change for the gala. See you then. Hugs, Aria

  The note was breezy and friendly, exactly like her. Of course she had friends. A million of them. And the fact that she hadn’t mentioned whether or not the beach friend was male or female didn’t bother Ethan at all.

  Grumpy and frustrated, he headed for work. At least he had tonight to look forward to. And after the fund-raising gala was over, well, only time would tell.

  His day was marginally better than the day before, but n
ot much. There were no major crises, though when he found himself barking at his employees and having to apologize time and again, he realized that he was in a bad way. His head ached as if he had been up all night drinking, when in fact, he was stone-cold sober.

  The fact that he had absolutely no idea what Aria was thinking drove him crazy. Was she glad to be accompanying him to the gala tonight? Or was he simply a chauffeur?

  Ryder Currin had planned for a formal, sit-down dinner at this event, and dancing afterward. The thought of other men touching Aria made Ethan’s chest tighten. He felt possessive. Protective.

  Aria would not react well to either of those reactions from him. She was independent, and she was not interested in a one-way relationship. Any man who might one day marry her and give her babies would have to accept her as a full partner.

  By the time Ethan’s crew clocked out at four, jubilant at getting paid for an hour of heading home early, Ethan was more than ready to be done for the weekend.

  He drove back to the condo in heavy traffic, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. It seemed like a week since he had seen and spoken with Aria, not merely a day and a half.

  She was nowhere in sight when he got home, but he heard sounds from her bedroom, enough to reassure him that she had indeed made it back from Galveston. Damn straight. She was his date for the night.

  He showered and changed into his tux, wrestling with the bow tie and trying to pretend his hands weren’t clumsy with nerves.

  Because he and Aria had both been asked by the TCC board to be on hand early at the gala, they were supposed to leave at five thirty. The hotel wasn’t far. But they would be battling rush hour.

  Ethan strode to the foyer, pulled his phone from his pocket and called downstairs to have the car brought up from the garage.