Beau: Cowboy Protector. Marin Thomas
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an appointment with the ophthalmologist.”
Since her aunt’s arrival in town, not a day had passed that she hadn’t hounded Sierra about seeing an eye doctor. After a few weeks the nagging had gone in one ear and out the other. Sierra would make an appointment when she was good and ready and not a minute sooner. In any event, she had no intention of discussing the private matter in front of Beau. “I’ll handle it, Aunt Jordan.” She walked through the living room and stopped in front of a door that looked suspiciously like a closet. “We’ll use the back staircase.”
“Didn’t know this building had a secret passageway,” Beau said.
Sierra opened the door and switched on the sconces in the stairwell. Beau followed her, closing the door behind him. Before she’d descended two steps, he clutched her arm.
“You look…hot.” His gaze traveled the length of her body.
The compliment sent a rush of pleasure through her. “Thank you.”
“You know what that dress says, don’t you?”
Sierra couldn’t think straight—not with the heady scent of Beau’s cologne swirling around her head. “Wh…what does it say?”
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
They hadn’t sat down to eat and already Beau was making a move on her.
Go ahead. Sierra had fantasized about kissing Beau for months. Did it matter if he kissed her at the beginning of the date instead of at the end? Sierra made a feeble attempt to take the high road. “My aunt’s sitting a few feet behind the door.”
Beau’s gaze zeroed in on Sierra’s mouth. “I’m a quiet kisser.”
Short of breath, she whispered, “Prove it.”
His lips covered hers, then his hand settled on her hip, pulling her closer until her breasts bumped his leather jacket. Lord, the man could kiss. She followed Beau’s lead, relaxing in his arms, opening her mouth to his tongue. The kiss grew more urgent, his callused hand caressing her neck…his fingers sifting through her hair.
Sierra couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so thoroughly kissed and she gave herself over to the magic of the moment, memorizing Beau’s scent…his taste…the scratchy feel of his beard stubble…the intimate rumble reverberating through his chest.
The kiss ended abruptly, Beau resting his forehead against hers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Me, too. “I think we should get off the stairs before one of us tumbles to the bottom.”
“Sorry.” Beau nuzzled her cheek then smoothed a hand over her hair. “I didn’t mean to come on so strong.”
Blushing, she descended the steps, which opened into the large pantry connected to the kitchen. When she entered the dark room Beau stopped her.
“Hold up.”
With only the swath of light streaking across the floor from the passageway, Sierra was unable to see much except the shadowy outline of Beau’s jaw. She waited for him to speak.
“I can’t help myself.” He clasped her face and his mouth inched forward.
Sierra raised her arms, intending to wrap them around his neck when the door on the other side of the pantry opened.
“Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” Karla Dickson, the waitress who’d taken over for Irene this evening, smiled sheepishly.
“Hi, Karla.” As if Beau hadn’t been caught red-handed with his fingers in the cookie jar, he released Sierra and stepped into the kitchen.
Karla turned away, leaving Sierra all but forgotten in the pantry. “Duke stopped in a few minutes ago looking for you.”
“I’ll call him later. How about those Panthers? Your husband’s team has a chance of winning the conference title this year.”
“Please, no football talk.” Karla groaned. “I hear enough about it at home.”
Sierra shut the pantry door and faced her employee. “Any problems after I left?”
“Not a one. The tables are cleaned off and supplies restocked. If you want, I’ll run the dishwasher and prepare the coffee machines for tomorrow.”
“No, thanks. I’ll take care of that after Beau and I have dinner. Thanks for finishing Irene’s shift today.” Sierra walked Karla out of the kitchen to the front door. By tomorrow morning, the Roundup grapevine would be buzzing with rumors of Beau and Sierra kissing in the pantry.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday for my regular shift,” Karla said.
“’Night.” Sierra locked up, then switched off the neon sign outside and returned to the kitchen where she found Beau at the stove with his finger in the gravy pot. “I’m the chef and I don’t stick my fingers in the food.”
“Your sirloin is one of my favorites.”
She fetched two plates and dished out one small serving and one cowboy-sized serving of food. “There’s wine in the pantry.” The diner didn’t have a liquor license, because Sierra didn’t want her patrons driving home inebriated, especially when many of them lived outside the town limits. However, she kept the pantry stocked with several bottles of wine for her recipes.
Beau returned with a merlot from Napa Valley—interesting that he’d selected her favorite. She covered the bistro table in the corner with a red-and-white-checked cloth, then added two wineglasses and silverware.
A second later a pop echoed through the kitchen when Beau opened the wine bottle. He filled the glasses, then held out Sierra’s chair after she brought their plates to the table. “Shall we dim the lights?” he asked.
As much as she yearned for a romantic atmosphere, Sierra worried she’d make a fool of herself if she could see only a few inches in front of her nose. “I’d prefer to keep the lights on. I like to see what I’m eating.”
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