Twins For The Texan. Charlene Sands
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since sunset the temperature had cooled considerably. They stood facing the lake.
“Better,” he said, taking gulps of air into his lungs. “It got a little heavy in there.”
He dropped her hand, seeming to compose himself.
“It did.”
“You surprised me, is all,” he said, looking away from the lake to connect with her again. “I mean, I didn’t expect...”
“I know. I’m different.” He didn’t have to say it. He didn’t expect to be attracted to her. “I’m no Texas girl. I dress weird most of the time. Believe it or not, I toned it down for the wedding.” No leather wrist bracelets, giant hoop earrings or multiple long chains around her neck for this shindig. As a matter of fact, she’d left most of that stuff back home in LA. Maybe she was entering a new phase in her life.
“I like your style, Brooke. There’s nothing weird about you.”
“Thanks for that.”
“I mean it. When I saw you with Uncle Hal on the dance floor, I had an irrational urge to knock his block off.”
“Is that equivalent to punching his lights out?”
“It is,” he stated plainly.
“Why, Wyatt, that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She stood toe-to-toe with him, grinning. It felt good to break the tension and get back to easy conversation with him.
He laughed loud and deep and she joined in, too.
“I like you, Brooke,” he said easily.
“Feeling’s mutual,” Brooke said. “Isn’t that how they say it out here?”
“Stop poking fun at Texans.” Wyatt’s eyes twinkled. “We’re a proud lot.”
“I’ve heard as much.”
A wicked Texas breeze blew strands of hair into her face.
With his finger, Wyatt innocently pushed a barrel curl resting on her cheek behind her ear. From the second his finger glided across her skin, the ridiculous yearning reared up again, putting a halt to their pleasant banter. Her laughter died in her throat, and as she focused on the man touching her tenderly, his smile changed into something less animated and playful. He gazed at her with dire want, his eyes dipping down to her pursed and needy mouth.
“Brooke,” he rasped. There was a distinct hitch in his voice.
“It’s okay, Wyatt,” she said. Whatever he wanted, she was ready for.
A groan rose from his throat and he began shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Brooke was in the same boat. They were sailing along at breakneck speed. She wasn’t about to throw down the anchor; she wanted the wind at her back taking her wherever this was leading.
Wyatt wrapped one of his hands firmly around her waist, his fingers inching her closer, while he lifted her chin to meet his beautiful giving mouth with the other. The kiss was sweeter, more leisurely than before. She instantly felt safe with Wyatt; it wasn’t about his saving her from empty gas tanks or pesky older men. It was something more, something she’d never experienced before. Utter trust.
The little voice in her head said, It’s because he doesn’t know who you really are.
But that wasn’t it. A Texas rancher couldn’t care less about her being a celebrity’s sister. Wyatt had no agenda in that regard, and this uncanny faith she had in him came from a deeper, more soulful place within her.
Only seconds later, Wyatt whispered a curse over her lips and deepened the kiss, making it hard for Brooke to think straight. Helpless to curtail the sizzling connection between them, she flung her arms around his neck and his kisses immediately became inferno hot. Her lips were on fire, set ablaze by this amazingly strong, gorgeous man. He walked her backward until she met with the solid breadth of a cottonwood tree. She leaned against it, out of view of the wedding tent and the two hundred other guests.
He urged her mouth open and their tongues tangled. Explosive sensations rocked her back and a potent stream of desire coursed through her body, making her feel more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time. Wyatt had her trapped, his arms on either side of the thick tree. There wasn’t any place else she’d rather be.
He brought his arms down to cup her face and tilted her head at an angle that was to his liking. His kiss was more deliberate this time, packed with intensity and precision. Oh, he was a yummy kisser.
He began an exploration of her body with both hands grazing her shoulders and traveling down her sides, along the inward curve of her torso and caressing the slight flare of her hips. She could tell he wanted to touch her in more intimate places but his keen sense of propriety wouldn’t allow it. She wanted more, but couldn’t deny how incredibly sweet and sensitive he was to her.
They came up for air a minute later, both shaking, both completely turned on. The music inside the tent stopped and the bandleader’s gleeful voice carried over the microphone, announcing it was time for the bride and groom to cut the cake.
“Brooke.” He whispered her name on a sigh and touched his forehead to hers, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “We should really go back inside.”
“Mmm.” He was right, of course, but how on earth would she stop her legs from trembling, her body from quivering? “I think so, too.”
“You go first,” he said, encouraging her with a nod. “I’ll need a minute. Oh, and be sure to save the last dance for me.”
She straightened her disheveled dress, took a swallow, steadied her out-of-whack nerves and then headed up the embankment toward the tent. Halfway there, she swiveled her head around to find Wyatt’s discerning eyes still on her.
She turned to continue her trek, purring with quiet delight like a kitten lapping up a bowl of rich cream.
* * *
“Here you go,” Wyatt said so quietly she barely heard him. He set her luggage down outside her hotel room door as she slid the key card into the lock.
“Thank you,” she said, turning to him. “I, um, had a great time tonight. The wedding was pretty cool.”
“I had a good time, too. Thanks to you.”
She stared at him, quaking inside. She didn’t want to make another mistake. But looking into Wyatt’s eyes, she didn’t believe him to be one. “You give me too much credit.”
“I don’t think so. I was dreading coming here today. And then I met you.”
She blinked. He had a way of saying the right things. He wasn’t a clever charmer, but he was charming. And he was a gentleman, in every way that counted. “Why were you dreading it?”
Pain entered his eyes. “Let’s just say I’m new to bachelorhood and leave it at that.”
“Oh.” She got that. She didn’t want to rehash her past relationships, either. One of the best parts of meeting Wyatt tonight was not having to think about the Royce Brisbanes of the world. She was fine with forgetting all about her own lousy relationships. “Okay.”
Wyatt tilted his head. “You’re not like most women.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment, Wyatt.”
“Believe me, it is. Most women want to nose around and fix what’s broken, but I’m not into that right now.”
He was broken? Now that was a revelation, because from where she stood all of his parts seemed to be in excellent working order. “Wyatt,” she said softly. She didn’t want him to leave. Gosh, how she didn’t want to say good-night to him.
“I’d better get to my room.”
She didn’t miss the reluctance in his voice. “Okay. Thanks for being my miracle cowboy today.”