Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(46)

And that thought jarred him to the core.





Chapter 13


Wade dozed with lips parted on a half smile—an expression of supreme contentment that made Nikki’s heart surge. Wade was so considerate, so attentive. Everything about him drove her wild. He was everything she never even dared to hope for—intelligent, charming, and, sweet heaven, the man knew how to use his mouth and hands.

But while her body was sated, her mind was restless, overwhelming her with doubts and fears. It was so good with him, it nearly scared the hell out of her. How long would they continue burning hot and bright—in a frenzied fever of lust—before their shooting star crashed to earth? How soon before he lost interest and sought greener pastures? Men like him always did.

Why are you torturing yourself like this? It was beautiful. It was incredible, but you already know it can’t go anywhere. Just let it be, Nikki.

She shifted, her thigh inadvertently brushing his shaft. It stirred instantly back to life. Wade opened his eyes on a lazy smile. “Time for round three already?”

Nikki’s stomach answered with a loud and embarrassing growl.

He gave her a mock frown. “Hungry for something besides me then?”

“Well, yeah,” she confessed. “I ordered food hours ago. After all this exercise, I think I’m in real danger of perishing.”

He whipped the sheets away and sat her up. “Get dressed and I’ll make it up to you.”

Nikki took another quick shower and dressed while Wade went to the Prospector to pay for the food she’d never picked up. He said he’d also make a detour to the drugstore to replace the condoms they’d used. She hadn’t brought much for clothing, given the airline baggage restrictions and the brevity of her planned stay, but had at least packed a simple slim black dress for the funeral. She decided to wear it now along with a pair of black pumps and thigh highs. By the time Wade returned, she’d pinned her hair up and applied a bit of makeup.

His whistle of appreciation made her glad she’d expended the effort.

“Looks like we’re headed out of Sheridan.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not about to take you to the Prospector or the Wagon Wheel looking like that.”

“Then, where are we going?” she asked.

“I’ve got a place in mind,” he replied cryptically.

They headed back toward Twin Bridges, driving the ten miles in companionable silence with Wade’s left hand guiding the wheel of the Lexus and his right resting on her thigh. It was a casual gesture, but the implied possessiveness incited a fluttery feeling in Nikki’s stomach.

The vibe between them had relaxed in the past few hours, morphing into something that felt comfortable but with an underlying excitement. There was an edge of sexual tension between them that hadn’t even begun to abate. Even after several bouts of lovemaking, Nikki still thought she’d combust with a look or touch from him.

They pulled up in front of an old brick building on Main Street. “It’s rustic, but The Old Hotel is one of the better places around here. The cuisine choices are slim pickin’s once you leave greater Bozeman, but there are a few well-kept secrets around these parts.”

They entered a small but cozy dining room with knotty pine flooring, floral valances over mullioned windows, and fewer than a dozen oak tables, with mismatched chairs and calico cushions.

“It reminds me of MeeMaw’s kitchen, and not much bigger either,” Nikki remarked in bemusement.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I promise it’s not your MeeMaw’s home cookin’. The owners moved here from Hawaii and have brought quite an international flair to our little neck of the woods.”

“Hello, Wade!” the hostess greeted them. “Just the two of you?”

He nodded. “Paula, this is Nicole, up from Atlanta. I wanted to show her that Twin Bridges isn’t completely without sophistication. I’m glad you had something available tonight without a reservation.”

“Things slow down this time of year,” Paula said and led them to a table in the corner. “A month ago would have been another story.”

Nikki waited for Wade to pull out her chair, meeting his grin with a smile. She sat and looked for a menu.

“They don’t print one,” Wade explained, reading her mind. “The dishes change weekly based on availability of local meat and produce.”

“And the chef’s whim,” Paula added. She handed Wade the beer and wine list. “Would you care for a cocktail or some wine? Or do you want to hear the specials first?”

“Beck’s nonalcoholic for me. Wine, Nikki?” Wade asked. “They have a good selection here.”

“Nonalcoholic?” Nikki regarded him with a wrinkled brow.

“Yeah, I don’t drink…anymore.”

“But the other night?” She recalled the frosty mugs of brew he’d drunk, and then realized she’d never seen the bottles. “Do you mean to say you were drinking unleaded while you were tanking me up?”

He flashed a guilty grin.

“How underhanded.” Her head reeled from Wade’s interesting little revelation, but this wasn’t the moment to press him. She opted to file it for later.

“You needed it. I didn’t.” He shrugged. “As to wine, I’d recommend a red to accompany the cowboy sushi.”