Heaven, Texas (Chicago Stars #2)(83)

When the guests began to leave, however, her anxiety returned. So far, she had refused to torture herself with mental images of the two of them alone in a bedroom, but as the time approached, she found it increasingly difficult to keep those thoughts at bay. She remembered Hoyt’s hearty laughter, his lusty appetites, and open display of emotion. In contrast, Way was cool and remote. She couldn’t imagine anything ruffling him, anything making him laugh hard or cry or give in to the normal range of human emotions.

Way shut the door after the last of the guests and turned just in time to see her shudder. “Are you cold?”

“No. No, I’m fine.” She used to dread the end of her own dinner parties when she was faced with a kitchen full of dirty dishes. Now she would have given anything for that cleanup job, but a pair of efficient servants had already taken care of it.

He clasped her arm lightly and drew her back into the living room. “How’s your golf game?”

Golf was the farthest thing from her mind, and the question startled her. “The last time Bobby Tom and I played, I beat him by a stroke.”

“Congratulations. What did you shoot?” Releasing her, he sat down at one end of the couch and unfastened his bowtie.

“Eighty-five.”

“Not bad. I’m surprised you can beat your son. He’s a fine athlete.”

“He hits a long ball, but he gets himself into a lot of trouble.”

“You’ve played all your life, haven’t you?”

She walked over toward the windows and looked down on the strings of tiny white lights dangling over the Riverwalk from the cypress trees. “Yes. My father was a golfer.”

“I remember. I tried to get a job caddying at his country club when I was a kid, but they told me I had to cut my hair first.” He smiled. “I wasn’t willing to give up my D.A., so I pumped gas instead.”

She had a mental image of him leaning against a locker and running a black plastic comb through his slicked-back hair. Hoyt had worn a crew cut.

He pulled his bow tie free and undid his collar button. “I made a seven-thirty tee time for the two of us tomorrow morning at my club. We can beat some of the heat.”

“I don’t have my clubs or my shoes.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I’m my own boss, Suzy.”

“I—I really need to be back by noon.”

“Do you have another commitment?”

She didn’t, and she realized she was being foolish. If she had to spend time with him, what better place than on a golf course? “I have some errands to run, but I can do them later. Golf will be fine.”

“Good.” He stood, slipped off his jacket, and tossed it down on the couch. “Would you like to see the terrace?”

“I’d enjoy that.” Anything to postpone what was to come.

To her alarm, he headed for the staircase. She had assumed the terrace was off this level of the duplex, but now she realized it must lie off the master bedroom upstairs. He had reached the bottom step before he sensed that she wasn’t following him. He turned and regarded her evenly. “You don’t have to take your clothes off to see the view.”

“Please don’t be flippant about this.”

“Then stop looking at me as if I’m going to rape you. I’m not, you know.” Turning his back on her, he stalked up the stairs.

She followed slowly behind.





17




Suzy approached the railing where Way was standing, with his hands in his pockets, looking out over the San Antonio skyline. Keeping a careful distance between them, she came up next to him.

“Everything dries out quickly up here,” he said, without looking at her. “Irrigation is a real challenge.”

She glanced around at the terra-cotta tubs that held ornamental trees and the planters that displayed colorful blooming annuals. A hibiscus bearing bright yellow flowers brushed the side of her skirt. She would rather talk about gardens than what loomed ahead.

“I have the same problem with some of my hanging baskets. They’re under the eaves, so they don’t get any rainwater.”

“Why don’t you move them?”

“I love looking at them from my bedroom window.”

She immediately regretted mentioning the bedroom and looked away from him.

“For a mature woman, you’re as skittish as a teenager.” His voice was soft and vaguely husky. She stiffened as he turned to her and cupped her upper arms in the palms of his hands. The warmth of his body penetrated the thin silk of her dress. He dipped his head.

Her lips parted in protest as his mouth covered her own. She stood rigidly and braced herself for some terrible assault, but his kiss was surprisingly gentle. He brushed his lips over hers—she had not expected them to feel so soft and warm. Her eyes drifted closed.

He shifted his weight and lightly pressed his hips to hers. She tensed as she felt his arousal. He slowly drew away from her, and, as she regarded him, she was unable to hide her confusion. Had she actually given in to him for a few seconds? Surely not. Surely it was revulsion she was feeling. Regardless of his power and his money, this was still Way Sawyer, the biggest hoodlum at Telarosa High.

He brushed a lock of hair back from her cheek. “You look like a kid who just got her first kiss.”