A Cowboy in Manhattan(53)

“I own part of a tailor shop and part of a bakery.” He waited for her to sit on the bench.

“Really?” Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? It seemed an odd thing to leave out, given their past conversations. “So, that’s why you’re here? To check on your businesses?”

He sat down beside her, slow to answer. “I’m here for a lot of reasons.”

The lamppost put him in light and shadow. His face was rugged, all angles and strength. His eyes were dark as they watched her.

She tried not to hope he was also here for her, but she couldn’t help herself. She had it bad for Reed Terrell, and no amount of reason or logic was going to change that. “Tell me the others.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She shifted closer to his big body, and his arm moved to the back of the bench, creating a crook of space.

She tipped her chin to look at him. “Am I one of them?”

“Not in that way.”

“What way is that?”

“The way where you blink your baby-blue eyes, and part those cherry-red lips and make me forget I’m a gentleman.”

His words sent a hitch of desire through her chest.

“Am I doing that?” she asked.

“Don’t play coy.”

“I am coy. Or at least I was coy.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, lowering her voice to a tease. “Quite innocent, really. Until a couple of days ago.”

He fixed his gaze straight ahead. “Don’t remind me.”

“Why not?” It was only fair that he share her frustration. “I’ve been thinking about it constantly, reliving every minute, especially while I lay there alone, in my bed—”

Reed swore between clenched teeth.

“Tell me you miss it, too.”

He swore again.

She boldly put her hand against his chest.

His arm tightened around her shoulders, tugging her close while his lips came down, covering hers possessively. Her body responded with instant desire, kissing him back, twisting and pressing against him. Her arms wound around his neck, anchoring her as she tipped her head to better accommodate his overwhelming kisses.

After long, hot, sexy minutes, he rasped, “This is crazy. You’re crazy. I’m crazy. We’re playing with fire.”

“We’re adults,” she pointed out.

“Barely.”

“I can legally vote, drink and make love in any state in the Union.”

“Bully for you.”

“Reed. Get real. A fling is no different than a one-night stand.”

He went silent.

She took it to mean he didn’t have a rebuttal.

“I’ve had this fantasy most of my adult life,” she dared to say.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

She took one of his hands between hers. “It was about losing my virginity. I imagined it happening in a big bed, with fine linen, maybe flowers and candles.”

Guilt seemed to tighten his features. “Instead, you got me in a broken-down old line shack.”

She nodded, faintly surprised at her own willingness to play that particular card. “The you part was fine. But I wasn’t crazy about the line shack.” She screwed up her courage again. “We did it on your turf, Reed. Don’t you think it’s fair we do it again on mine?”

He gazed at their joined hands. “You think you can reason your way into making love again?” But his expression had softened. There was even a hint of a reluctant grin.

“Yes.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

He came to his feet. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

She stood up, rounding to face him and placing a hand on his arm. Going for broke, she lowered her voice and put every ounce of vamp she could muster into her expression and tone. “Do me a favor, Reed. Respect me all night long.”

His gray eyes darkened, and the half smile disappeared. “And when I leave you in the morning?”

“I’ll probably jump off the balcony in sheer anguish and despondency.” She came up on her toes and kissed him. The first one was quick, but then she kissed him longer, and he responded, and once again they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

This time, when he set her away from him, he grasped her hand, tugging her to his side. They began walking silently back to the sidewalk, setting a beeline for the nearby Royal Globe Towers.