For the Love of Sin. Leanne Banks
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how that affected a man. How it affected him.
She gently put his hand away from her. “That was a delicious truffle, even though you smashed it. Maybe even better than the cupcake,” she said with a slight, smoky smile. “And it was certainly memorable. Thank you for the chocolates.”
Standing, she gave a little shrug. “Guess you’d better head back to your hotel. You’ll want an early check-out so you can get back to Tennessee.”
Troy shook his head. He was going to kill his brothers for this detail. K-i-l-l them. He willed his body to forget what it was hoping for, then he stood. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already checked out of the hotel.”
Senada’s face lit up with delight. “Well, be sure to tell Lisa I said hello. I’ll give her a call sometime. I promise. I just have to settle some things here first and—”
“What kind of things?” he interjected, allowing her to lead him to the door.
She gave a vague gesture with her hand. “Oh, things.” She opened the door.
Troy slipped his arm around her waist and pointed to his new domicile. “You see that house down there.”
She glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Yes.”
“You see the garage apartment?”
Her eyes glinted with suspicion. “Yes.”
“If you need anything, day or night,” he told her, “I’ll be there.” He thought about kissing her, but based on her hostile expression, he thought she really might bite him this time. “Anytime, Sin. Night or day.”
Chapter Three
Senada’s dietician got a kick out of the chocolate cupcake story. In retrospect, Senada even found it amusing.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you laugh since you’ve been here,” Helen Waverly said.
“Maybe Troy Pendleton isn’t all bad.”
“Maybe not,” she murmured. “But he’s bad enough.” Her feelings about Troy were constantly changing. When he informed her that he lived two doors down from her, she could have cheerfully dumped another pitcher of beer on him. When he helped her with her neighbor, she’d almost liked him. And when he fed her the chocolate truffle, she’d felt a surprising shot of sexual attraction. Very surprising. Since her diagnosis she’d felt frozen, at least as far as her femininity was concerned.
Now she didn’t. Senada wasn’t sure she liked the source of the change.
“Have you called your father yet?” Helen asked.
“Not yet. I’m still trying to decide how to do it.”
Helen arched her eyebrow at the excuse but let it pass. “And have you thought about attending a meeting of the local support group?”
Senada shifted. “I’m thinking about that too.”
“You can’t stay in a holding pattern forever,” she said gently.
Senada nodded. “I know.” She deliberately changed the subject. “But about those chocolates?”
Helen rolled her eyes. “Put them in the freezer. They’ll last longer that way. One a day,” she said, lifting her index finger for emphasis, “with a meal.”
Senada smiled. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”
They had a full house on Friday evening, and Senada was busier than ever. Several customers casually asked her about Troy. She acted as if she didn’t know what they were talking about, but the back of her neck prickled with irritation. In the short time that he’d been there, he’d made a place for himself. The men greeted him; the waitresses flirted with him. At this very moment, he was in the back because the cook had asked him to take a look at the ice maker.
“Here you go,” she said, placing two pitchers of beer and four frosty mugs on a table. She shot a quick glance at the men dressed in denims and sporting cowboy hats. “Welcome to Padre’s. Are you new to town? I haven’t seen you before.”
One man gave her a long considering look. “We’re from the Circle K. I’m Chris Grant, the foreman.”
Circle K. Her father’s ranch. The room began to swim. Senada blinked, then took a careful breath and smiled. “Bet that job keeps you busy. I hear it’s a pretty big operation.”
He shrugged. “Busy enough, but Calhoun lets me off to come into town every now and then. Maybe I could show you the spread sometime. What’s your name?”
Senada paused. She considered conjuring up an alias and immediately felt impatient with her cowardice. So what if her father learned she was there. Maybe it was time. “Senada,” she said, and gave the group of men a half grin as she left. “If you need anything, yell.”
Her mind spinning, she slapped the door to the back room so hard, it hit the wall as she rushed through it.
Straight into Troy.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her shoulders.
“Sorry,” she muttered, still shaken.
He frowned, studying her. “What’s wrong? You look like somebody hit you.”
“Nobody hit me,” she told him. “Not really.”
He cocked his head to one side. “Hit on you?”
The tray she held separated her chest from his, but his hands felt warm and reassuring. His gaze was strong but gentle, and the combination sent a tumbling sensation in her stomach. For a moment, she considered dropping the tray and putting her arms around him.
She shook her head and immediately backed away. Where did that thought come from? She rolled her eyes. “They all order beer, and they all hit on me. It’s part of the program.” She looked past him. “What have you done to my ice maker?”
“Fixed it.” He pushed her hair behind one shoulder. “How are you gonna compensate me?”
He touched her as if it were no big deal, and it shouldn’t have been, but Senada felt her heart race. She swallowed an oath. Maybe she needed to check her blood sugar. “Your beer’s on the house. I’ll even throw in a burger if you want.”
“You’re all heart,” he said wryly.
“That’s me, sweet as—”
“—Tabasco sauce.”
She flicked her gaze back up to him. “Go home.”
He gave a slow, terrible, wicked grin and leaned close to her. “Not until I get what I came for.”
“Troy,” she said, throwing his innuendo right back, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it once you got it.”
Troy’s eyes lit with challenge, and he leaned dangerously close.
“You little thief!” The cook’s voice rang out. “What are you doing with those hamburgers? Six of them. I oughta—”
Senada broke away and rounded the corner to find a little boy, terrified and defiant, holding burgers in his hands. “It was only five! Pig!” he yelled back at the cook. “You’re a stupid pig!”
Pete’s face turned purple. “Why, you little—”
Senada’s heart twisted. “Hold on, Pete,” she said to the cook, then quickly assessed the boy. His clothes were worn, his cheek was smeared with dirt and he wasn’t wearing any shoes. “Are you hungry?”
The boy jutted out his chin. “So what if I am?”
She walked closer. “For starters, you could ask before taking the burgers. How old are you, anyway?”
“Twelve.”
“More