World's Most Eligible Texan. Sara Orwig

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СКАЧАТЬ in,” she said quietly, her blue eyes pulling him into their depths, and he wanted to say to hell with dinner and take her into his arms and straight to that tiny little virginal bedroom she had. Instead, he watched her as he walked inside. As soon as she closed the door, he turned to face her. He inhaled her perfume, a scent of lilacs, and it was an effort to keep from reaching for her, but he knew he’d better keep some kind of distance. The lady wasn’t overwhelmed with eagerness to go out with him tonight.

      “You look gorgeous.”

      “Thank you,” she said, smiling with her cheeks flushing and a sparkle coming to her eyes that made him feel better. Why was she so solemn? She hadn’t been that way that first night. He felt like he had done something wrong, but he couldn’t imagine what.

      “I’ll get my coat. You look nice, too, Aaron, very elegant in your navy suit,” she said shyly, and he couldn’t keep from reaching out to brush her cheek lightly with his fingers.

      “Thanks, darlin’. I’ve been getting ready for this date since I drove away from your place this afternoon.”

      She gave him an I-don’t-believe-you look and turned to get her coat. He watched the gentle, sexy sway of her hips and tried to get his thoughts elsewhere because the slightest little thing with her could turn him on in a flash. For the first time he noticed the small elastic bandage that wrapped one slender ankle and he wondered if that was a lingering result of an injury during the rough landing of the Asterland jet.

      His hands trembled slightly as he held her coat, brushing his fingers across her nape and trying to keep from taking her into his arms. She couldn’t have any idea how badly he wanted her.

      “You have a bandage on your ankle,” he said when she turned around to face him. Unable to keep from touching her, he smoothed the collar of her coat.

      “I had torn ligaments in my ankle because of the plane’s rough landing. I’m supposed to wear this bandage two more weeks. I thought about leaving it off tonight and seeing how I get along, but that might not be a good idea.”

      “Bandage or no bandage, your legs are beautiful. You wear it as long as you’re supposed to,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes while she gazed back at him and tension coiled between them.

      “We should go, Aaron,” she reminded him solemnly. He took her arm, still wondering about the barriers she had thrown up between them. When they left, she locked her apartment. He took her arm to walk to the car, looking at the flash of her shapely legs again as she slid into his black car.

      When he entered the stream of traffic in the street in front of her apartment complex, Aaron glanced in the rearview mirror out of habit. He had spent years abroad, sometimes involved in intrigue, sometimes residing in countries that didn’t welcome Americans, so he was accustomed to checking his surroundings and did it without thought. And, through habit, he noticed the black car turning into traffic a few cars behind him. When he got to Claire’s, Royal’s finest restaurant, instead of driving up immediately for valet parking, he circled the block.

      “If you’re looking for a parking spot, they have plenty in the back of their lot,” Pamela said.

      “Just driving around,” he answered casually, aware she was watching him. In the rearview mirror, he saw the same black car turn the corner behind him, just as he turned another corner.

      “I think we’re being followed,” he said, glancing at her to see what her reaction would be.

      “Have you brought someone all the way from Spain to follow you around Royal, Texas?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “Surely not!”

      He turned back toward Main Street and slid to a stop at the curb, knowing he was squarely in front of a fire hydrant, but he would be there only briefly. She didn’t guess she might be the one being followed.

      “No, darlin’, I don’t think so,” he drawled, waiting. The car swung around the corner and had to pass him. He watched and pulled into the street behind the car.

      The sedan had darkened windows, but when he drove behind it, he could see the silhouettes of two men. He noted the license tag, memorizing the number. At the corner they turned away from the restaurant and he turned toward it, driving up in front to let a valet park his car, but the incident worried him. He took her arm to walk to the front door of the restaurant.

      “If they weren’t following you—no one would be following a second-grade school teacher, Aaron. That’s absurd.”

      “Maybe.” He remembered talking to Justin about the site of the forced landing of the Asterland jet and all the questions the plane’s malfunction had raised. Was Pamela in any danger? He reached out to open the door for her.

      “You’ve spent too much time involved in European intrigue. You’re in Royal, Texas, with a teacher from Royal Elementary. Nothing exciting here.”

      He stopped to face her, suddenly blocking her way. Startled, she looked up at him. “Au contraire,” he said solemnly, brushing her hair away from her cheek. “Being with you is the most excitement I’ve known in a long, long time.”

      “There you go again, pouring on charm thicker than molasses,” she teased, making light of his statement, but her words sounded breathless and pink filled her cheeks.

      “I mean it, lady,” he said and moved out of her way, following her inside. He passed her to talk to the maitre d’ and then they were ushered to a table with candlelight, a red rose in a crystal vase and a white linen tablecloth. When he ordered a bottle of French white wine, she interrupted.

      “Aaron, I’ll just drink water. I’m not much into wine or drinks.”

      She had been that night. She’d had wine at the gala and another glass at his house. Maybe that had been a once-in-a-year thing. He knew so little about her, but he wanted to know everything. He ordered the wine for himself and water for her, wondering why everything she liked or said or did was so important to him.

      “Do you like French food?” he asked. “If not, Chef Etienne does broil steaks—a concession to the steak-eating Texans. I know because I’m one of them.”

      She studied the fancy menu. “I see salmon that I’d like.”

      When their waiter returned for their order, Aaron said, “The lady will have the saumon fumé avec pommes de terre primeurs au beurre de persil,” he ordered in what sounded to her like flawless French. “I’ll have a steak, medium rare, and a baked potato.”

      “You really do speak French fluently, don’t you?” she asked as soon as they were alone.

      “You make it sound like I rob gas stations often,” he answered with a twinkle in his eye.

      “Sorry. It’s just another difference between us.”

      “Well, I won’t converse with you in French, darlin’,” he said, lapsing into a West Texas drawl.

      She smiled slightly, but she didn’t look happy.

      “Believe me, we wouldn’t be out together if there weren’t differences between us,” he said and she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

      All through salads, his sizzling steak and her smoked salmon and new potatoes, he sensed a reserve in her that she СКАЧАТЬ