Summer Nights. Сьюзен Мэллери
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of his hand.
The curls tickled and teased, making him want to weave his fingers through the strands. Even without trying he could breathe in the scent of her. He swore silently, reminding himself he had to maintain control.
“Hmm.” She pointed to the kitchen. “This isn’t going to work. Look at where the pantry is. Around behind the refrigerator? That’s going to be a pain. And this wall here, closing everything off.”
“You need the wall for cabinets.”
“You need a wall for cabinets. There’s a difference. The kitchen itself is great, but it’s all catawampus.”
He drew back and grinned. “It’s what?”
“Catawampus? Askew. Turned around wrong.”
“I know what the word means.”
“I was trying to talk in cowboy terms. So we could relate to each other.”
“You don’t think we’re relating now?”
Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part but he would swear she leaned a little closer. And that her lips parted as she drew in a breath.
“I do, but I wanted to make sure.” She blinked a couple of times and turned her attention back to the plans. “All you’d have to do is shift everything ninety degrees. Then the kitchen would be open to the family room and the sink would still face a window. The pantry would be accessible, like this.”
She picked up a pencil and drew a couple of quick lines.
He was more intrigued by her reaction than what she was doing. Was it possible that she felt it, too? The connection? Talk about a game changer. Not that he was looking to get involved, but there was a whole country of possibilities between interested and involved.
“I’ll talk to Jocelyn,” he told her, still watching her as he spoke.
“You and I should probably schedule some time in the home improvement store so I can get an idea of what you like. For finishes and fixtures. That will help me narrow down the choices. I know everyone is crazy about granite, but I think there are a lot of manmade finishes you could consider. They’re so easy to take care of.”
More time with her? “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good.”
She turned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. Her mouth called to him in ways that left him hungry and determined. He wanted her and if she felt the same way—
“Shane?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you think of Charlie?”
It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.
“Charlie Dixon?”
“Yes. She owns Mason. You’ve met her. What do you think of her?”
Of course he knew Charlie. He took care of her horse. “In what context?”
Annabelle smiled. “Romantically. Would you like to go out with her?”
He’d been thrown from his share of broncs, but never had he landed on his ass like this. He stared at Annabelle, wondering what he’d done to deserve it. All he wanted was a regular kind of life with a normal woman. Someone nice and caring, someone he would be faithful to and take care of. Was it asking too much?
With that description, Charlie should be exactly who he wanted. She was a walking, breathing definition of sensible. Instead he was driven mad by the bar-dancing, horse-whispering redhead in front of him.
“Shane?”
He did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed her by her shoulders, pulled her a couple of inches closer and kissed the hell out of her.
* * *
ANNABELLE HAD BEEN THINKING Shane would either say he liked Charlie fine or that she wasn’t his type. Honestly, she’d sort of been hoping for the latter, what with the tingles she’d started feeling when she was around him. But she hadn’t expected this.
His mouth was warm on hers. Firm, a little demanding, but only enough to keep things interesting. He smelled good, tasted better and he held on like he would never let go. A quality she could appreciate in a man. He was—
Need shattered her. One second she was enjoying how much she liked him kissing her and the next she was beyond frantic. Desperate, actually. She wanted to crawl into his lap and maybe inside of him. She wanted more kisses, along with some touching and even taking. Taking would be good. Very good.
She’d felt passion before, but nothing like this. Nothing had ever been so…desperate.
Moving as one, they stood, which was better. Now she could wrap her arms around his neck and lean into him. Now he could pull her even closer, then slide his hands up and down her back. She nestled against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against her curves. He wasn’t the kind of man who yielded easily. A characteristic she could get used to.
She angled her head so she could deepen the kiss. He moved the opposite way, then stroked her bottom lip with his tongue. She parted for him, hanging on to his shoulders, knowing it was going to be a wild ride.
He didn’t disappoint. At the first sweep of his tongue, fire danced through her. Her thighs heated, then went weak. The tingling returned, racing around her body before it settled in her breasts and between her thighs.
He kissed her deeply, teasing her tongue with his. She met him stroke for stroke, becoming more aroused by the second. His large hands settled at her waist. She wanted to pull them higher, to have him touch all of her. Tension made her surge against him, rocking her belly against his erection.
The proof of his need thrilled her. Although she’d managed to avoid being slutty for her entire life, right now the thought of doing it on the desk, right here, in the construction office, seemed feasible. Sensible even.
Shane broke the kiss and took a step back.
They stared at each other, their sharp breaths the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. A small measure of sanity returned, dulling the regret that he’d pulled away. Yes, it would have been amazing. Double yes, she would have had regrets.
But a girl could dream.
She cleared her throat, not completely sure she could speak in a normal voice.
“So, that would be a no on Charlie?” she asked.
“That’s a no.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“ANNABELLE! YOU’RE not listening.”
Annabelle pulled herself out of the delicious daydream that had haunted her pretty much all day. The instant replay of Shane’s kiss was nearly as powerful as the actual event had been. She wasn’t sure if that spoke to chemistry or the empty tragedy that was her love life. Maybe both.
“Sorry,” she said, smiling at the girl in front of her. “What is it, Mandy?”
“Is Shane a real cowboy? When we were at the Fourth of July festival last week, my mom said Shane was a cowboy and a half. I don’t know what that means.”
Annabelle held a smile, thinking it meant Mandy’s mom had an appreciation for a good-looking man. Having a beautiful garden of one’s own didn’t mean a person couldn’t admire someone else’s garden.
She frowned, not sure why that metaphor sounded weird, then deciding to go with it.
“Shane is a real cowboy,” Annabelle assured her. “Very much so. He has horses and knows how to ride. Oh, he was helping another cowboy with his rodeo skills, so I guess he teaches them, too.”
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