Lone Star Legacy. Sara Orwig
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something else you like,” she persisted, tilting her head to study him. “I don’t think it’s art. I’ll bet it’s far removed from the world of property management.”
“Yes, it is. It’s not that big a deal for you to even try to guess. Someday when I retire, I’ll make furniture. I like working with my hands.”
“It’s getting a little scary how alike we are,” she said, noticing how his thick lashes heightened the striking effect of his gray eyes.
“Perhaps it’s an omen indicating we will get along well.”
“Usually, it’s the other way around. Opposites attract.”
“Well, I’ll see where we’re opposite—one thing, you’re living your dream. I won’t leave the business world.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I was raised to do this. When Dad was alive, I wouldn’t have changed for anything because it would have hurt him terribly. He hasn’t been gone long and I just can’t think about changing when I know how badly he wanted me to do what I’m doing. There are other reasons, too, but that’s the biggest.”
She nodded. “We’re different there, all right. My mom was okay with the change I made. I’m sorry she didn’t live to see the success I’ve been lucky enough to have, especially since she’s the one who told me to chase my dream.”
“Be thankful. I’ve been told the opposite all my life.”
“I am thankful,” she said, wondering about his life as the topic of conversation shifted. As she looked at him, desire smoldered, a steady flame. She knew he would kiss her tonight and she wanted him to.
“So there are no other men in your life?” he asked, tilting his head.
“No, no other men and you’re not exactly in it either since I’ve known you all of a few hours.”
“I’m in it now,” he said in a tone of voice that stirred sparks. “So Mr. Right has not come along. And there’s no one vying for that title.”
“I’m definitely not looking for Mr. Right. The past few years I’ve been incredibly busy and my social life has suffered.”
“I can understand about incredibly busy. And I’ll see what I can do to remedy that a little for both of us.”
“And what about the women in your life? You can’t convince me there are none.”
“There isn’t anyone special, or even anyone really ‘in’ my life at this point. I’m free as a bird, as they say.”
“Workaholic?”
“I’m not arguing that one.”
When her phone chimed again with a text that the gallery was cleaned and closed, she noticed the late hour. “I didn’t know the time. I should go home.”
As they walked back to the gallery, Garrett stopped her. “Why don’t I take you home? I’ll pick you up for breakfast and bring you back to the gallery to get your car.”
“That seems a lot of trouble for you.”
“No trouble at all,” he said, unlocking the door of a black sports car.
After a moment, she climbed in, gave Garrett her address and watched him drive, studying his hands with neatly trimmed nails. A gold cuff link glinted in the reflection of the dash lights.
They drove through a gated area and up the front drive of her sprawling house. He parked and came around to open the door for her. They crossed the porch and she unlocked the door before turning to face him.
“You have a nice home.”
“Thanks. As you said, it’s comfortable. It’s too late to invite you in but I had a great time tonight.”
“It’s too early to exchange goodbyes,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist to draw her close.
Sophia’s heart raced as she looked up at him. His lower lip was full, sensual. She leaned slightly closer, pressing against him and closing her eyes as his mouth covered hers lightly, then firmly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. A wave of longing rippled, tearing at her while she felt as if she were in free fall. Her breathing altered, heat pooled low in her. His kiss was demanding, enticing and she returned it. She moaned softly, the sound taken by his mouth on hers.
Her heart pounded so violently she was certain he could feel it. When she pressed against his lean, hard length, his arm tightened around her. Leaning over her, holding her tightly, he didn’t let up. She was lost, consumed in kisses that were magical, that set her on fire.
One hand slipped down her back, a light caress, and the other was warm on the nape of her neck. His kisses were earth-shattering, rocking her world. She had never been kissed this way. She wanted to stay in his arms for hours.
Finally she leaned away to look at him. “Garrett, slow down,” she whispered, caution and wisdom fighting to gain control over desire. All she wanted was to kiss him endlessly.
As he gazed at her intently, she realized that his ragged breathing matched her own.
“Sophia,” he said, her name a hoarse whisper. “I want you.” The words—stark, honest and direct—set her pulse galloping.
“We have to say good-night,” she declared. She had just met him and barely knew him. She should not fall into his arms instantly and lose all control.
Locks of his dark, unruly hair had tumbled on his forehead, escaping the neatly combed style he’d worn when she first saw him. She ached to run her hands through them.
Instead, she took a deep breath and stepped back. “We have to say good-night,” she repeated. “I had a wonderful time.”
“It was world-changing for me,” he whispered, his voice still only a rasp. He framed her face with his hands. “I mean it. Tonight was a special night that I never, ever expected. I’d hoped to meet you but I never once thought I’d have an evening like this.” As he spoke, his fingers combed lightly through her hair. His words carried a sincerity that made her heartbeat quicken again, his smoky, intense gaze consuming her.
“I didn’t expect anything like this either,” she whispered, wanting him with an urgency that shook her.
“When I walked into your gallery, I wanted to meet you for one reason. After meeting you, I want to be with you for an entirely different reason,” he said.
He leaned down to kiss her again, passionately. When he released her, he stepped away, but his hand stayed on her shoulder as if he didn’t want to break the physical contact with her.
“I’ll see you in the morning. How’s seven?”
She nodded, and he turned and strode away. She stared at him—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, thick brown hair, handsome. The man took her breath and set her heart pounding.
“Good night, Garrett,” she said softly. She closed the door and switched on lights while her lips tingled. Desire was a scorching flame. Garrett Cantrell. She would be with him again in just hours and yet she couldn’t wait.
Her cell phone’s tune signaled a call. She looked at the number with curiosity as she answered. Her heart missed a beat when she heard Garrett’s deep voice.
She laughed. “You do know that we just parted?”
“We did. It now seems like a serious mistake. Tell me more about growing up, your dreams, your day tomorrow.”
Smiling, she sat in a rocker in her bedroom, gazing at her shelves of familiar books and pictures. “I grew up in Houston. I’ve always dreamed of painting and having my own gallery. Tomorrow—”
“Wait a minute. Back up. You grew up in Houston. House? Apartment? Best friends through your school years or did you move a lot? Tell