Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(36)

“How long have you and Chad been friends?”

“Oh hell, I’ve known him ten years at least, but now he’s stationed in Lubbock with a different company, we’ve become close because I’m not his supervisor anymore.”

“Interesting.” Emm was still a bit puzzled as to why he’d included her in an intimate luncheon with his best friends, but she was happy to be with him in the bright day, for once not worrying about Yancy and Jennifer.

When they arrived a few minutes later, the old clapboard house had a fresh coat of paint and new shutters, along with a big rocking chair on the wraparound porch. Ross helped her from the car. As she got out, her shawl slipped again. He caught it with automatic male courtesy, wrapping it back around her shoulders. His knuckles brushed her exposed flesh in the vee of the dress.

They both froze. The bright Texas sun seemed to melt and pour into her veins, and when she looked up at him, she saw only his head limned in the light. But he could obviously look into her eyes, brilliant blue in the sunshine, and she was wondering what she’d revealed when his head lowered and his mouth covered hers. His movements were jerky, and she realized he was as compelled as she.

And then she couldn’t think . . . she could only feel.

Though it was only the second time they’d kissed, their bodies melded together as easily as old home day. As if they’d done this hundreds of times before, as if they belonged this way. Emm tilted her head back, pulling his head down to slant her mouth even closer against his. His knee moved between her legs, winnowing her feet apart. She felt the hardness in his worn jeans, and a deep, irrepressible need made her move one foot between his spread legs and tilt her hips upward, answering that need, even as she slid the tip of her tongue into his mouth.

A strangled gasp rewarded her, and again, most unlike her, she took advantage, exploring his delicious mouth more deeply. He tasted of spearmint and passion. Their tongues dueled as their hands began to wander.

One of his hands had cupped her breast and she was unbuttoning his shirt when a discreet cough penetrated her sensual haze.

“Uh, welcome,” said an amused masculine voice.

Emm’s eyes blinked open, filled with sunlight and embarrassment. She jolted away, teetering unsteadily. Ross finally came out of his own sensual haze with a jerk. He still had presence of mind enough to steady her with a hand on her waist.

“Howdy, Chad.”

“Howdy, Ross.”

His own cheeks brick red, Ross led her forward to the bottom of the steps. “Sorry; we were a bit distracted.”

“I noticed.” Chad’s mouth was suspiciously straight.

Ross scowled, daring him to go on, but Chad only offered his hand to Emm. “You must be Ms. Rothschild. Pleasure. Welcome to my ranch.”

Emm had to clear her voice twice before she could calm herself enough to answer, and even then she sounded squeaky because she could not recall ever being so mortified. “Thanks for inviting me. Ah, may I borrow your restroom?”

He showed her where it was, down the hall. She splashed water on her face, not surprised to see she was as scarlet as the flowers on her shawl. What had possessed her to act like that in a stranger’s yard? She glared at her own dilated, deeply blue eyes in the mirror.

She took a deep breath and touched up her makeup. One thing was certain: She couldn’t leave here without giving herself the gift of Ross Sinclair. Afterward, she’d miss him even more, but it would be worse to wonder for the rest of her life what it would have been like. And based on the incendiary way he responded to her, he wanted her almost as badly, so she doubted she’d have to seduce him. Still, she’d never made such blatant overtures to a man before, so she was in uncharted territory.

When she came back out, her cheeks were still pink. Ross was sitting on the couch, both arms stretched along the back. He had a fixed smile on his face. Chad was grinning. Emm glanced between them, but a beautiful, voluptuous redhead exited a room down the hall, carrying a blue-wrapped bundle.

She smiled warmly at Emm. “I’m so glad you were able to come. I’m Jasmine. And this is Trey.”

Emm looked at the sleeping face. Her throat closed up even more. All she could do was smile like an idiot.

“You can touch him. He won’t break. Babies are much tougher than people realize.”

Emm gently stroked the soft head with one finger. Trey didn’t even stir.

She felt an intense focus on her and looked up. Ross was frozen in place, staring at her.

She tilted her head slightly, wondering at his expression. Jasmine handed the baby to her husband. “Have to get back to the kitchen. Do you want to come with me?”

Emm was relieved to be able to escape the living room and its strange undercurrents. “Sure. What can I do to help?”

A few minutes later, after she’d dusted the last of the chicken in a paper bag full of flour, Jasmine had a streak of flour on her chin and her cheeks were heat flushed in the old kitchen where she’d obviously been cooking for hours. The cabinets looked recently painted and there was an old, scarred oak table in the middle. The stove was ancient but obviously cooked well as several dishes sat covered and ready to be dispensed. A huge cast-iron skillet held sizzling fried chicken that filled the air with a mouthwatering aroma.

“Do you mind setting the table?” Jasmine asked as she turned back to the skillet. “Use the good dishes in the hutch.”