Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(70)

“Back in the mood?”

He pulled her against his chest and pressed his mouth to hers as if he wanted to devour her. Her response was immediate. Flames raced through her blood, and she met his passion with her own. His mouth was open, his tongue aggressive. She sank her fingers into his thick hair just as he slipped his hand under her skirt. His big hands cupped her bottom and lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around him and felt the harsh abrasion of denim against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He turned her so that her back was pressed against the tree trunk. She felt his arousal, thick and hard, press against her and some wanton part of her wanted to tear open the front of his jeans so there was no longer a barrier between them.

Years of deprivation pushed her to the limits of her control. Famished, she moaned and clasped him tighter between her thighs.

She heard a soft curse. He gentled his grip on her bottom and lowered her until her feet touched the ground. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I keep forgetting how susceptible you are. I shouldn’t have started this.”

She sagged against him. He clasped the back of her head and drew it against his bare chest. He smelled so good, like soap and sunshine. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she had shown more restraint.

“Give me back my underpants, please.”

She was afraid he’d refuse, but apparently he realized he’d teased her long enough. He released her to reach into his pocket. She kept her eyes on his chest as he handed over the scrap of buttercup yellow nylon. When he spoke, all the laughter had faded from his voice and it was steely with determination.

“Tomorrow night nothing’s going to stop the two of us from finishing what we’ve started.”

Before she could reply, he walked away.

She took several minutes to put herself back together and reluctantly returned to the area where they were filming. Natalie had donned a fresh blouse, and Elvis lay cradled in her arms. Bobby Tom, still bare chested, stood between her and the director, who appeared to be giving them some last minute instructions. The director turned away to address a cameraman, and one of the makeup people approached Natalie with a container of hair spray.

Natalie held up her hand. “Just a minute. I don’t want Elvis breathing the fumes. Hold him, will you, Bobby Tom?” Without waiting for his consent, she thrust the chubby baby into his arms and stepped away to have her hair sprayed.

Bobby Tom’s eyebrows rose in alarm. At the same time, his body reacted with the instincts of an All-Pro wide-receiver, and he automatically tucked the baby into his chest.

Elvis gave a happy gurgle. Feeling the familiar brush of skin against his cheek, he instinctively turned his head toward Bobby Tom’s bare, well-shaped pectoral and opened his greedy little mouth.

Bobby Tom fixed him with a stern glare: “Don’t even think about it, pardner.”

Elvis chuckled and sucked his fingers instead.





14




The next evening as dusk gathered, Gracie and Bobby Tom sat in the top row of the wooden bleachers behind Telarosa High, gazing out at the empty football field. “I can’t believe you never went to one of your high school football games,” he said.

“There was a lot to do at Shady Acres in the evenings. It was hard to get away.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded strained. Yesterday in the canyon he’d said that tonight would be the night they finished what they’d started, and she was so nervous she could barely hold herself together. At the same time, he was as cool and collected as ever. She wanted to kill him.

“It doesn’t seem like you had much fun as a kid.” He brushed the side of her leg, and she jumped. He gave her an innocent look, then reached farther over to pick up a drumstick from the tub of fried chicken he’d bought for them, along with french fries, containers of salad, and a basket of hot biscuits.

Maybe his touch had been accidental. On the other hand, knowing him as she did, it was quite possible he was deliberately driving her to distraction. He must know she’d been on tenterhooks ever since she’d opened the door of her small apartment and seen him standing on the other side in a pair of jeans, a straw cowboy hat, and a faded Telarosa High School Titans T-shirt that might have fitted him fifteen years earlier, before he’d developed such spectacular chest muscles, but was definitely too tight for him now. Since Bobby Tom was impeccable about his clothes, she knew the old T-shirt was deliberate, part of his attempt to recreate a high school date.

She nibbled on the end of a fry and, when he looked away, slipped it through the opening behind her legs and let it fall to the ground below the bleachers because her stomach was too agitated to hold food. “You miss it a lot, don’t you?”

“High school? Not hardly. All those homework assignments put a serious dent in my social life.”

“I’m not talking about the homework. I’m talking about football.”

He shrugged and discarded the drumstick, rubbing against the side of her arm in the process. She felt as if a shock wave had passed through her. “Sooner or later, I had to quit. A man can’t play ball forever.”

“But you hadn’t planned on quitting so soon.”

“Maybe I’ll do some coaching. Just between the two of us, I’ve talked to a couple of people. Coaching seems a likely next step for me.”

She expected to hear some enthusiasm in his voice, but she heard none. “What about your film career?”