Three

      Diego took her hand in his. His voice was rough and husky, but he couldn’t control that. He’d been turned on by her kiss. Just her kiss had gotten him hotter and harder than he’d anticipated. But she’d said she was on the run...something that he’d suspected, along with most of Cole’s Hill. And he didn’t want her to feel pressured to go home with him.

      “I’d like that, too,” she said. There was a look in her eyes that made him even harder and he stood, putting the champagne glasses on one of the tables that lined the patio.

      He turned back to her and held out his hand.

      She licked her lips and closed her eyes for a second. “You taste really good, you know?”

      “I think it was you.”

      She walked toward him, her hips swaying with each step she took, and he groaned deep in his throat. Damn. She was hot, and she knew it. She kept eye contact with him, but he broke it, letting his gaze skim down her body. He didn’t care if she saw how much she affected him.

      He wasn’t going to pretend she didn’t have him hotter than a tin roof in July.

      “We’ll have to do it again and again until we figure it out,” she said. Her voice was husky with a note of teasing in it.

      “Sounds like my kind of plan,” he said. “I have a town house I keep here in the Five Families neighborhood. Will that be okay?”

      “Sounds good. I live out at the Caruthers Ranch and I’m pretty sure we don’t want to drive all the way out there. I don’t really want to wait that long to touch you again, Diego,” she said. Her words adding kindling to the fire that was already burning out of control in his body.

      “Good,” he said, lacing their fingers together and leading her down the patio walkway toward the path around the golf course. “I hope you don’t mind walking, but I’ve had too much to drink to feel safe driving even just through this neighborhood. It’s only a ten-minute walk.”

      “I don’t mind walking at all,” she said.

      He held her hand in his and tried to concentrate on getting back to his place. But her perfume smelled slightly of spring and she kept humming “Save a Horse,” distracting him. Filling his mind with images of her naked, on top of him, riding him. He groaned again.

      “Are you okay?”

      “Sí,” he said, falling back on Spanish. His family had been in the United States for generations—their original homestead had been a land grant from the Spanish King back in the 1700s—but their family had always been multilingual.

      “I know a little bit of Spanish, but it’s not the Mexican dialect that a lot of people speak here,” she said. “I had a very funny conversation with Isabella about that the other day. She’s one of the new hires that Kinley brought in to work in her wedding and event planning office in town.”

      Diego didn’t really care about all that. But he liked the sound of her voice, so he just made a hmming sound and she kept on talking. Finally, he saw the cluster of townhomes and his own front door.

      “This way,” he said, leading her off the path and across the street to his place. These townhomes were only about five years old and had been built from the same river rock that had been used in the country club. The path leading up to the front door was made of smaller stones but smoothed out so that it was comfortable to walk on.

      He reached into his pocket for his keys, which drew his trousers tighter against his groin, and he realized that even walking and talking about nothing for ten minutes had done nothing to cool him down. But that wasn’t surprising. Pippa had had him tied in knots for the last few weeks.

      “This is it,” he said. “Still want to come in? If not, I can arrange for someone to take you home.”

      “Diego, I want you. I want this. I’m not going to change my mind,” she said.

      “You’ve kept me at arm’s length for a while now and I know that there has to be a reason. I don’t want you to regret this,” he said. He never wanted that. This night felt like...well, a dream, and he didn’t want anything to ruin it.

      She threw her arms around him and hugged him close. “Oh, Diego, I don’t deserve you, but I certainly want you.”

      “Of course you deserve me,” he said, lifting her off her feet and lowering his mouth to hers. Her lips tempted him; the entire time she’d been talking, all he’d thought about was kissing her again.

      He set her on her feet and led the way to his front door. He unlocked it, pushed it open and beckoned for her to enter first. They stepped into the foyer. He was a pretty traditional guy, so it was decorated with solid dark wood furniture, and the floor tile was a terra-cotta color that reminded him of the mane of his favorite stallion. He tossed his keys in the bowl on the large chest to the left of the entrance and then undid his tie, tossing it on the table, as well. In the round tile-framed mirror he caught Pippa’s gaze.

      She watched him with the stark, raw need that he recognized in himself. She moved closer, putting her hand on his shoulder and walking her fingers up toward his neck to slowly pull his tuxedo jacket down his arms and off.

      * * *

      Pippa was glad she’d left her heels on because Diego was taller than she’d realized—at least six-one. She reached around him from behind and slowly removed the studs that held his dress shirt together. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man