Secret Twins For The Texan. Karen Booth

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       Two

      Cole acted out of pure instinct, tearing down his driveway after Dani. Damn, the woman could run in heels. Luckily, his long legs carried him fast enough to give him an edge and he caught her, wrapping his hand around her arm before she could open the car.

      The instant he touched her, he knew he’d made a colossal mistake. He knew it all the way down to the soles of his feet. There was too much fire between them. Always had been and probably always would be. Sure, that had been years ago, and a lot had changed since then, but he should have known better. Still, he couldn’t let her run off like this.

      “Dani, don’t. Please don’t leave. It’s okay to still be mad.”

      She whipped around, sending a trail of her sweet perfume straight to his nose. How could he have forgotten how beautiful she was? Glossy black hair, fiery brown eyes and red lips that could make a man forget what exactly he’d come for. “I do not need your permission to be mad. I’ll be mad for the rest of my life if I feel like it.”

      One thing was for sure—Cole was sorely out of practice in the art of taming Dani. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right.”

      She tried to wrestle her arm from his grip, but that bit of friction between them—warm skin against warm skin—sent a flood of memories through his brain. Dani had always done this to him. She’d always brought everything back to life. He’d just forgotten how good it felt to have a taste of it.

      “Let me go.”

      He did as she requested, but she didn’t move. She didn’t immediately reach for the handle on the car door, and Cole decided to take that as a good sign. She wasn’t running again. Not yet, at least. “Please come in and have one drink. I want to hear about New York. I want to know what’s going on in your life.”

      “Maybe I don’t feel like telling you.”

      “Good God, you are stubborn.” He shook his head. “Probably why I could never quite get you out of my system.”

      “Yeah, right.”

      “I’m dead serious. I wasn’t kidding about the scotch, either.”

      She looked away, and the moonlight caught her profile—an adorable nose that turned up slightly at the end, dark hair blowing in the breeze across her creamy skin. For what felt like the millionth time, he wished he hadn’t had to push her away nearly six years ago, but he’d had no choice. Life and death had been hanging in the balance. Her whole future opened wide, and his narrowed to a narrow and finite point.

      “I do need to use the restroom,” she muttered, seeming embarrassed.

      “Perfect. Come on in.”

      He tentatively placed his hand at the small of her back to usher her up the driveway, but she was walking a pace faster. “I wasn’t kidding. I drank an entire bottle of water on the way over here.”

      Cole laughed and jogged ahead, taking the porch steps in two long strides and opening the door for her. “You know where it is.”

      She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I do.”

      He watched her as she walked down the hall, wondering once again if he was seeing things. Dani was in his house. Wearing a dress that hugged every glorious inch of her, especially his favorite parts—her hips, her butt, her breasts. Basically, everything that was lush and round and good for sinking his fingers into. When Sam had told him a half hour ago that she was back in town, he certainly hadn’t thought she’d turn up on his front porch. It was like fate was delivering him a gift he had no idea what to do with.

      There was no telling how long Dani or her lovely dress were going to stick around. His gut told him he’d better make this good. He hustled into his grand but comfortable living room, with high wood-beamed ceilings and seating for at least twenty people for the rare times when he decided to entertain. He turned off the flat-screen TV above the stacked stone fireplace and switched on an antique bronze craftsman lamp to cast a warm glow, making the room feel cozier. More intimate. He put on some soft music and lit a candle. Hopefully Dani wouldn’t use that open flame to set his house on fire. He was straightening the throw pillows on one of the leather sofas when she appeared.

      “Company coming over?”

      “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t make the place presentable?”

      “I don’t know. What kind of gentleman would you be?”

      The question was so heavy with innuendo it could’ve broken a bone if dropped on his foot. “On the rocks, right?”

      “Good memory.” She breezed past him and took a seat.

      “I only poured you one of these at least a hundred times.”

      “Probably more like twice that.”

      “Sometimes we drank beer. Or wine. There was a lot of wine.” The undercurrent СКАЧАТЬ