Lone Star Lovers. Jessica Lemmon
Читать онлайн книгу.
also never imagined she’d ask him to come home with her...but she did. When one drink led to another, Penelope let him lead her out of the club.
What a night it’d been.
His kisses had seared, branding her his for those stolen few hours. Hotter than his mouth were the acres of golden muscles, and she’d reveled in smoothing her palms over his bulging pecs and the bumps of his abs. Zach had a great ass, a better smile, and when he left in the morning, he’d even kissed her goodbye.
Stay in bed and recover, Penelope Brand.
A dimple had punctuated one of his cheeks, and her laugh had eased into a soft hum as she’d watched Zach’s silhouetted masculine form dress in the sunlight pressing through her white bedroom curtains.
Sigh.
It had been the perfect night, curing her of her loneliness and adding a much-needed spring in her step. Pen had felt like she could take over the damn world. Amazing what a few earth-shattering orgasms could do for a girl’s morale.
She was still smiling at that memory of “Just Zach” from Chicago when she climbed behind the wheel of her Audi and started toward her destination. One night with Zach had been fun, but Pen wasn’t foolish enough to believe it could have been more. As the daughter of entrepreneurs, success had been ingrained in Pen’s mind from an early age. She’d taken her eye off the prize in Chicago and look what’d happened.
Never again. At the gates of the mayor’s mansion, Pen presented the shiny black invitation, personalized with her name in an elegant silver script, and smiled down at the slender silver bangle on her left wrist. It had been included with her invitation. Dangling from the bracelet was a letter F, and she’d bet her new shoes that the diamond set in the charm was a real one. Every first-time attendee received a gift from the mayor.
The security guard waved her through and she smiled in triumph. She was in. The world of politics was ripe with men and women who might need to hire her firm in the future, and she would make sure every guest knew her name by the end of the evening.
Pen passed her car keys to the valet and walked the cobblestone path to the mayor’s mansion. The grounds were elegant, lined with tall, slender shrubberies and short, boxed hedges. Fragrant, colorful flowers were in full bloom thanks to an early spring. Looming oaks that’d been there since the Ferguson family earned their first dollar in Dallas, ushered her in.
Inside, she checked her wrap and tucked her clutch under her arm. When her turn came, an attendant walked her to the mayor for a proper introduction.
Standing before the mayor, was it any wonder the man had earned the hearts of the majority of Dallas’s female voters? Chase Ferguson was tall, his dark hair pushed this way and that as if it couldn’t be tamed, but the angle of his clean-shaven jaw and the lines on his dark suit showed control where it counted.
“Ms. Brand.” Hazel eyes lowered to a respectable survey of her person before Chase offered a hand. She shook it and he released her to signal to a nearby waiter. “Stefanie is around here somewhere,” he said of his younger sister. He leaned in. “And thanks to you, on her best behavior.”
The mayor straightened as a waiter approached with a tray of champagne.
“Drink?” Chase’s Texas accent had all but vanished beneath a perfected veneer, but Pen could hear the slightest drawl when he lowered his voice. “You’ll get to meet my brother tonight.”
She was embarrassed she didn’t know a thing about another Ferguson sibling. She’d only been in Texas for a year, and between juggling her new business, moving into her apartment and handling crises for the Dallas elite, she hadn’t climbed the Ferguson family tree any higher than Chase and Stefanie.
“Perfect timing,” Chase said, his eyes going over her shoulder to welcome a new arrival.
“Hey, hey, big brother.”
Now that was a drawl.
The back of her neck prickled. She recognized the voice instantly. It sent warmth pooling in her belly and lower. It stood her nipples on end. The Texas accent over her shoulder was a tad thicker than Chase’s, but not as lazy as it’d been two weeks ago. Not like it was when she’d invited him home and he’d leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
Lead the way, gorgeous.
Squaring her shoulders, Pen prayed Zach had the shortest memory ever, and turned to make his acquaintance.
Correction: re-acquaintance.
She was floored by broad shoulders outlined by a sharp black tux, longish dark blond hair smoothed away from his handsome face and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. Zach had been gorgeous the first time she’d laid eyes on him, but his current look suited the air of control and power swirling around him.
A primal, hidden part of her wanted to lean into his solid form and rest in his capable, strong arms again. As tempting as reaching out to him was, she wouldn’t. She’d had her night with him. She was in the process of assembling a solid bedrock for her fragile, rebuilt business and she refused to let her world fall apart because of a sexy man with a dimple.
A dimple that was notably missing since he was gaping at her with shock. His poker face needed work.
“I’ll be damned,” Zach muttered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“That makes two of us,” Pen said, and then she polished off half her champagne in one long drink.
Zach schooled his expression—albeit a bit late.
Penelope Brand wore a curve-hugging white dress like the night he’d seen her at the club. He’d been there with a friend who had long since left with a woman. Zach hadn’t been looking to hook up until he spotted Pen’s upswept blond hair and the elegant line from her neck to her bare shoulders.
Seeing her hair down tonight dropkicked him two weeks into the past. Her apartment. The moment he’d tugged on the clip holding her hair back and let those luscious locks down. The way he’d speared his fingers into those silken strands, before kicking her door closed and carrying her to her bedroom.
He’d sampled her mouth before depositing her onto her bed and sampling every other part of her.
And he did mean every part.
They hadn’t discussed rules, but each had known the score—he wouldn’t call and she wouldn’t want him to—so they’d made the most of that night. She’d tasted like every debased teenage fantasy he’d ever had, and she’d delivered. He’d left that morning with a smile on his face that matched hers.
When he’d stepped into the shower at home that morning, he’d experienced a brief pinch of regret that he wouldn’t see her again.
Though, hell, maybe he would see her again given lightning had already stricken them twice. He hadn’t wanted to let her get away that night at the bar—not without testing the attraction between them.
He felt a similar pull now.
“If you’ll excuse me.” His brother Chase moved off, arm extended to shake the palm of a round-bellied man who ruled half of Texas. As one-third owner of Ferguson Oil, it was Zach’s job to know the powerful players in his brother’s life—in the entire state—but this man was unfamiliar.
“Just Zach,” Pen snapped, drawing his attention. Her blue eyes ignited. “I thought you were a contractor in Chicago.”
“I used to be.”
“And now you’re the mayor’s brother?”
“I’ve always been the mayor’s brother,” he told her with a sideways smile.
He’d also always been an oil tycoon. A brief stint of going out on his own in Chicago hadn’t changed his