Marriage, Bravo Style!. Christine Rimmer

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      Rogan talked about Murdoch Homes and his plans for expansion. Nobody mentioned Cabrera Construction, or the negotiations Rogan and Javier were deep into. That was fine with Rogan. It wasn’t a done deal. Not yet, anyway.

      The evening went by much too quickly. They finished the meal and sipped the last of the wine. Irina served dessert and coffee outside on the patio, poolside.

      At ten, Elena got up to go.

      Too soon.

      Magically, Rogan found himself on his feet when she rose from her chair. Which was fine. The polite thing to do. After that, he meant to tell her it was nice seeing her again and then to sit back down.

      But then he heard himself saying, “I’ll walk you out….”

      Caleb sent him a knowing look, which Rogan ignored. He turned and followed Elena inside. They went through the kitchen and on out to the front foyer.

      It was a great place to be, following Elena. He watched the gentle swaying of her hips beneath the full skirt of her dress.

      She turned to him at the door. He looked down into those bronze-colored eyes of hers and felt dazed and confused and way too eager.

      To kiss her.

      To stay up all night talking with her. He didn’t care in the least about what.

      She said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’m guessing—at the Bravo family ranch?”

      He could get lost in the sound of her voice, in the tempting way her mouth moved when she talked.

      “Rogan?”

      He realized he’d been staring. And he hadn’t answered her question. “Right. Easter dinner. I’ll be there.”

      A smile played at the corner of her red lips and that dimple teased him, appearing, then vanishing. Then appearing again. “If you buy my father’s business…” She let the sentence trail off.

      He was lost in her eyes. And this close, the scent of her was driving him crazy. She smelled like a tropical garden. Jasmine and sandalwood. Gardenias. Orange blossoms.

      Somehow, impossibly, he remembered to speak. “If I buy your dad’s business, then what?”

      “Will you be moving to San Antonio?”

      He longed to nod, to lie outright, to tell her he was, yes. Absolutely. If she was here, he wanted to be here, too.

      Absurd. Pointless. Over the top. Completely unlike him.

      “No,” he said. “I’ll stay at the home office. One of my top contractors is willing to make the move, though. His name’s Ellis Pierce. He’s a good man, with a wife and two little girls.”

      “A wife and two little girls,” she echoed. Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Just like my dad, way back when.”

      “Right. I hadn’t realized.” And the last thing he’d meant to do was to make her cry. “Hey…”

      She blinked, put on a tight smile and hitched her chin a fraction higher. “Hmm?”

      “I’m sorry. What did I say?”

      “It’s not you, Rogan. Really.” She glanced down, dark lashes like fans of silk against her cheeks. When she looked at him again, she had her tears under control. “Just sentimental, I guess. It’s hard to picture my dad retired. Next thing you know, he’ll be buying a Winnebago, heading for Florida or Arizona, where all the retired people go.”

      He wanted to comfort her. It was like a physical need in him—to pull her close to him, to guide her shining head down to rest on his shoulder.

      But of course, he did no such thing. “Would that be so bad, your dad moving to Florida?”

      “No. Not at all. As long as he’s happy there—and what’s that they say? ‘The only constant in life is change.’”

      “Ain’t that the truth—but at this point, I feel obliged to add that nothing’s settled yet. Your dad and I are still hammering out a deal.”

      “Ah. I see. The good man with the wife and the two little girls will be taking over if you and my dad work things out.”

      “Exactly. If…”

      “You’re being way too cautious, I think. I have a really strong feeling it’s all going to work out.” She gazed up at him with open invitation in those golden-brown eyes, clearly talking about more than his negotiations with Cabrera Construction. It was a very tempting offer. He ached to take her up on it.

      Talk about playing with fire. He was smarter than that—or so he kept trying to tell himself.

      She said, “You mentioned that your brother was your business manager?”

      “Cormac. Yes.” He braced a hand on the doorframe a few inches from her head, much too close to all that glorious gold-shot dark hair.

      “Will Cormac be coming down here soon—I mean, if the negotiations continue?”

      “Yes, he will. Next week.”

      “And you’ll both stay here, at Caleb’s?”

      “No, we have a suite reserved at the Hilton—the one on the River Walk? Caleb and Irina have been great, but I don’t want to take advantage of them.”

      “They have plenty of room. I think they’d love to have you and Cormac stay with them.”

      “That’s what they said, too. But no. The Hilton will be perfect.”

      “So…the negotiations are moving right along, then?”

      “Absolutely.”

      She slanted him a knowing look. “But you still won’t admit that it’s a done deal.”

      “Not yet.”

      “I’ll look forward to meeting Cormac.” She smiled—and there it was, that tempting dimple teasing him again, right there beside her way-too-kissable mouth.

      It was his turn to say something. Anything. It didn’t really matter what the words were, he realized. Only that he spoke. And she answered. “I like your dad.”

      “He likes you.” Her gaze slid to his mouth—and then swiftly lifted again so she was looking in his eyes.

      A kiss, he was thinking. Just one. How wrong could it be to steal one little kiss?

      True, it couldn’t go anywhere between them. But not everything had to go somewhere. It was such a simple, perfect moment. A beautiful woman, a whispered good-night.

      A kiss. One kiss…

      He went for it, stepping in a little closer, lowering his head.

      She lifted hers.

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