Sometimes When We Kiss. Linda Goodnight
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his face with both hands and kissed him.
A jolt of laughter rumbled from his chest into hers. He pulled back. “I’m doing the demonstrating here.”
“Then get on with it.”
He laughed again. Then that sexy Cajun mouth covered hers, and she went temporarily blind.
“What was that all about?” she asked when she could breathe again.
“They call it kissing.”
She punched him in the chest. “Why?”
“Why do they call it kissing? I don’t know. Guess we could look it up on the Internet.”
“Ha-ha. Not funny. Why did you kiss me?”
His black eyes danced with orneriness. “You kissed me first, remember?”
Leave it to Jackson to bring that up. “But you started it.”
He shrugged. “You were worried about losing your charms. I thought I’d check them out for you.” As if totally unaffected by what had just occurred, he nonchalantly unlocked the stall door and pushed it open. A stream of sunlight filled the entry.
“And?” Was she totally pathetic or what? Begging the man to pay her a compliment.
His dimple deepened. “You want to go over to the club tonight? Free dance lessons on Tuesday.”
She blinked at him, baffled. Jackson had always been like this though, so what had she expected? He could tease and please, but he never let his true feelings come to the surface. If she was looking for someone to soothe her ego, Jackson was the wrong man to ask.
When Jackson entered the ranch office that afternoon, he was still thinking about what had happened in the barn. He hadn’t intended to kiss Shannon, but she’d seemed so uncharacteristically uncertain about her ability to interest a man that he’d been unable to resist. He felt sorry for her. Not that he didn’t use any excuse at any time to kiss a good-looking woman, but he was here on business, not pleasure. And kissing Shannon again had certainly been all pleasure.
But he refused to regret the action. He liked her, always had, and looked forward to an evening of scooting a boot with her out at the club. They’d always had fun together, and she knew him well enough to know he wasn’t interested in anything but fun and games.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Gus lay back in a brown leather recliner, sock feet sticking in the air. Only Gus Wyoming would insist on moving his recliner into the ranch office. But the room had his stamp all over it, from the mounted bass hanging over the huge fireplace to the old saddle piled in one corner.
Gus popped the chair lever and sat up. “Yep. Sure did. How’s your aunt Bonnie getting along these days?”
“Ornery as ever.” He didn’t add that she was worried sick over her back mortgage payments, and he was going out of his mind trying to find a way to take care of the problem. If he’d lived a normal life, held a decent job he could borrow the money himself, but he had nothing to impress a banker.
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