Читать книгу The Rancher Returns - Brenda Jackson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеLayla pulled her car off on the shoulder of the road, unable to drive any farther. Once she killed her vehicle’s ignition, she forced herself to breathe deeply a few times. Never in all her twenty-six years had any man wreaked havoc on her senses like Gavin Blake. Never had any man left her in such a mind-blowing sensuous state. Who would have thought a man could have her nerves dancing, her mind racing, her stomach swirling and her nipples actually feeling like they’d been stroked? She had been tempted to glide her hands over every inch of his sexy, sculpted body.
She had known he was the epitome of male perfection from all those photographs she’d seen. To be honest, that’s where her troubles had started...with those photographs. In one, his lips had curved a little at the corners as he stared at her as if to say he knew exactly what she was thinking. She knew it was her wild imagination, but every time she glanced at that particular photo it was as if he was checking her out with those intense dark eyes of his. As if he knew her fantasies included him. Even in his photo, his muscular power had nearly overtaken her senses.
Pretty much like he’d done today. She hadn’t counted on the real thing being even more explosive than his pictures. Before he’d realized she was in his grandmother’s doorway, she had stood there spellbound as a rush of emotion made her body ache with desire. Then, when he’d noticed her, those eyes had made her yearn for something she didn’t need. Something she had never needed. A man.
Gavin Blake had stood on his grandmother’s porch wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt with his military tag hanging around his neck. Even wearing her sweater, she found the air cool, but the temperature hadn’t seemed to faze him. Was he as hot-blooded as he looked?
The one thing she did know was that he was a big guy. Tall. Muscular. Built. She could imagine him as the football hero she’d heard he used to be, tackling players with little or no trouble. And she could definitely imagine him as a SEAL, taking on the bad guys to protect his country.
And she couldn’t help but imagine him naked in bed...with her. Unfamiliar sensations raced through her just thinking about it. When he had touched her hand while staring into her eyes, she’d forgotten all about Ms. Melody standing there and had all but purred out loud. Blood had pounded through her entire body. She doubted she would ever use her hand again without remembering the feel of him. If her body reacted from a single touch to her hand, she didn’t want to imagine him touching her anywhere else...her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. And when he smiled at her, she’d been a goner. She could still feel the impact in the pit of her stomach.
She had never experienced this kind of need in her life. She didn’t even have a battery-operated boyfriend like some of her single female colleagues joked about owning. Sex was something that had never been on her must-do list. She’d put her energy into her academic career. But there was something about Gavin that made her think of heat and desire. Something that made the area at the juncture of her thighs quiver. Made her hormones sizzle.
Drawing in another deep breath, Layla admitted she needed to get a grip. She wasn’t in Cornerstone, Missouri, to lust after the man who jointly owned the land she needed as an excavation site. All she wanted to do was stay on schedule and have a successful dig. Besides, Gavin Blake probably looked at other women the same way he’d looked at her. Hadn’t that waitress in town enlightened Layla as to just what a ladies’ man he was? Now seeing was believing.
Seeing was also a warning to keep her common sense intact and be on guard. An involvement with Gavin Blake was the last thing she needed, even though her body was trying to convince her otherwise.
There was something else she should be concerned about, something she just remembered. Ms. Melody had said that her grandson might be against the idea of a dig on the Silver Spurs. Although Ms. Melody had given the okay, would Gavin’s return change anything? The thought of losing the permission she’d gained sent nervous jitters through her.
Maybe she should talk to Gavin Blake herself. She would present her research to him the same way she’d presented it to Ms. Melody. Layla wanted to believe he was reasonable. It wasn’t as if she would be digging all over his property. She had narrowed it to one location.
Yes, she would talk to him herself, but only after she talked to Ms. Melody—and after Layla convinced herself she could talk to him without every part of her turning to mush.
* * *
Gavin’s eyes flew open and his entire body went on full alert. His ears picked up the sounds around him and it was then he recalled he was back in the United States and not in some godforsaken country where he had to be on guard 24/7.
It was always this way for the first few days after he returned home. He had to regroup and get his mind back in sync with normal life, deprogram from battle mode and ease back into the life of a rancher.
Glancing at the clock on his bedroom wall, he saw it was ten at night. He wasn’t surprised that he’d slept nearly nine hours straight. His ears perked up at the sound that had woken him. Was that a harmonica? Granted it was far off, but he could still hear it. His teammates teased him about having sonic ears, because of his ability to hear a sound over a hundred feet away.
He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse when he involuntarily eavesdropped on conversations he wished he hadn’t. Like the time Mac was outside the barracks and downstairs in the yard talking to his wife on the phone, telling her in explicit sexual terms what he planned to do to her when he returned home from their mission. Gavin had heard every single word and the details had nearly burned his ears. They had definitely made him horny as hell. For a fleeting moment it had made him wish he had a wife or an exclusive woman he could return home to instead of a little black book filled with names of willing women.
Gavin pushed the whimsical thought from his mind as he lay in bed and listened to the music. It sounded pretty damn good. He sat up and rubbed his hands across his face as if to wipe away the sleep. Pushing the bedcovers aside, he eased out of bed. Not bothering to cover his naked body, he strolled over to the window, pushed aside the curtain and looked out. The October air produced a chill that would send shivers through a normal person’s body. But because of his SEAL training, Gavin could withstand temperatures of the highest and lowest extremes.
The way the moonlight crested the rocky bluffs, dissecting the valleys and rolling plains, was simply breathtaking. There was nothing more beautiful than Silver Spurs at night. For as long as he could remember, he’d always been moved by the grandeur of the land he was born on.
The harmonica stopped and he knew the sound had come from the party house where Layla was staying. Since the woman was still in residence, he could only assume his grandmother had not delivered his message. Had she done so he was certain Professor Layla Harris would have left by now.
Maybe he should talk to Layla Harris himself. Make it clear where he stood. He moved back toward the bed. Instead of getting into it, Gavin ignored the voice of reason saying he should wait and talk to Layla in the morning and grabbed his clothes off the chair. After sliding into his jeans he tugged his T-shirt over his head. He put on his socks and boots and headed for the door.
The music from the harmonica started up again.
* * *
Layla placed her harmonica aside. Playing it relaxed her and she would always appreciate her grandfather for teaching her. She could vividly recall those summers when she would sit on the front porch of her grandparents’ New Orleans home and listen to her grandfather play his harmonica, then beg him to teach her how. When Grampa Chip passed away ten years ago, his request had been that she play the harmonica at his funeral and she had.
Thoughts of losing the grandfather she adored always made her sad and that was the last emotion she wanted to feel right now. Even when she had no idea what would happen with this dig, she wanted happy thoughts. Earlier, Ms. Melody assured Layla that all was well. Her grandson was too exhausted to think straight and he needed a full day of sleep.
Layla hoped that was good news considering she had all that machinery on the way. She figured Ms. Melody knew her grandson better than Layla did. She would wait for Gavin Blake to get his full day of sleep. Hopefully, after another discussion with Ms. Melody, he would see things the way his grandmother did.
Layla glanced around the guest cottage, thinking how much she liked it here. The place was larger than her apartment in Seattle. She definitely didn’t have a huge living room with a fireplace or a spacious master bedroom with a large en suite bath with a walk-in shower and Jacuzzi tub. The cottage also had a loft that could be used as additional sleeping space, and an eat-in kitchen. She loved the wood floors throughout and the high ceilings. And because it sat a distance away from the main house, she could play her harmonica without worrying about disturbing anyone. That was something she couldn’t do at her own apartment.
She stood to stretch and was about to head toward the bedroom when she heard a knock on the door. Glancing at the clock on the wall she saw it was after ten. Usually Ms. Melody was in bed every night by eight since she was such an early riser. Had something happened? Had the older woman decided not to butt heads with her grandson and didn’t want Layla and her team to dig on the Silver Spurs after all?
Layla moved toward the door. It didn’t have a peephole so she leaned against the wooden frame and asked, “Who is it?”
“Gavin. Gavin Blake.”
Her gaze widened and heat swirled around in her lower belly. She tried forcing the sensations aside. Why would Gavin seek her out at this time of night? Had something happened to Ms. Melody? From their talks, she knew the older woman suffered occasionally with migraines.
She opened the door and the man stood there, almost bigger than life, and looking as yummy as a chocolate sundae. He was dressed as he had been that morning. Jeans. T-shirt. Western boots. But her brain wasn’t computing what he was wearing as much as how well he was wearing it.
Although it was cold, he wasn’t even wearing a jacket. He leaned in the doorway looking exactly like any woman’s dream. Hot. Sexy. And then some. He was one of those can’t-get-to-sleep nighttime fantasies that left you hot and bothered with no relief in sight. It was those thoughts that had her unable to speak, so she just stood there and stared at the penetrating dark gaze holding hers as her heart beat violently in her chest.
She knew SEALs stayed in shape, but the body of the man standing before her was simply ridiculous. She knew of no other man whose body was so well built. So magnificently toned. His jeans appeared plastered to him in the most decadent way. He made her think of wicked temptation and sinful delights.
Doubting she could stand there much longer without going up in flames, even with the blast of cold air, she swallowed deeply and then forced her voice to ask, “Is something wrong with Ms. Melody?”
From the look that quickly flashed across his features, she could tell he was surprised by her question. “What makes you think something is wrong with my grandmother?”
Layla sighed deeply. “What other reason would bring you here?”
That, Gavin thought, was a good question. Why was he here? He had heard the harmonica. And had quickly figured out the source was Layla in the party house. So what had driven him out into the night? He definitely could have waited until morning to talk to her about the dig. Had he come here just to stand in the doorway to try and get his fill of looking at her?
“Gavin?”
And why did the sound of his name from her lips send desire throbbing through him? In his horny state, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. “Yes?”
“If nothing is wrong with Ms. Melody, why are you here?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I heard you playing a harmonica.”
Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise. She must have been shocked that he heard her. The guest cottage was far away from the main house and on the opposite side of the bedrooms. Gramma Mel had probably told her he would be sleeping hard for a full day.
But he wasn’t sleeping. He was here. He rubbed his hand down his face in frustration. He needed to get to Mississippi fast or else...
Or else what? He would begin thinking of Layla Harris in his bed? Too late. His mind had already gone there. More than once. Those thoughts had pretty much settled in the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Having her at the party house wasn’t helping matters. Typically, all he had to do was snap his fingers to get any woman he wanted. Why were his fingers itching to be snapped? With Layla Harris, would it be that easy? Why didn’t he think so?
“I am so sorry,” she said now. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I know you need to get all that rest and—”
“You didn’t wake me.”
“But you said that you heard me playing.”
“I did, but that’s not what awakened me.” Gavin figured there was no reason to tell her how disrupted his sleep patterns tended to be during his first few days back home. Which still left her question unanswered. Why was he here? Why had he sought her out? In the middle of the night? “You play very well,” he said.
Gavin thought she was even more beautiful than she had looked this morning. He blamed the easy smile that touched her lips.
“Thanks, but I’m sure you didn’t come all this way just to give me that compliment.”
No, he hadn’t. He’d actually come to give her hell for feeding his grandmother a bunch of crock about buried treasure on their land. So he needed to say what he had come to say. “We should talk. May I come in?”
* * *
It was funny he would ask. After all, she was the visitor on his land. This was his house. Ms. Melody had told her that Gavin and some of his SEAL teammates had built it a few years ago as a place to hang out whenever they visited.
Gavin and his friends could get loud and rowdy here at the cottage without disturbing his grandmother. That accounted for why the place was so spacious with the cupboards bare—except for a refrigerator stocked with beer and wine coolers. Not to mention that a deck of cards seemed to be in every room.
“Yes, of course you can come in. You own the place.”
“But you’re my grandmother’s guest.”
Had he said that to remind her she wasn’t his guest? To remind her that her presence on the Silver Spurs was something he didn’t support? Layla would find out soon enough.
She moved from the door and he followed, closing it behind him. “Would you like something to drink?” Grinning brightly, she said, “There’s plenty of beer and wine coolers in the fridge.”
Gavin chuckled. “I’ll take a beer.”
She nodded. “One beer coming up.” She felt his gaze on her backside.
“Here you are. I feel funny doing this,” Layla said, coming back into the room carrying a cold bottle of beer.
He lifted a brow. “Doing what?”
“Serving you your own beer.”
“No reason that you should. You’re my grandmother’s guest.”
That was the second time he’d said that, Layla thought. Not one to beat around the bush, she crossed the room to hand him the beer, and then wished she hadn’t. Their hands had only briefly touched so why was heat filling her? And why was he looking at her as if that same heat filled him?
She quickly took a step back and wiped her hands down the sides of her jeans.
“You think that will get rid of it?”
She met his eyes. She knew what he’d insinuated, but she wanted to be sure. “Get rid of what?”
“Nothing.”
He then opened the bottle and took a huge gulp. Afterward, he licked his lips while she watched. Her chest tightened. He lowered the bottle from his mouth and held her gaze. “Want a sip?”
She drew in a deep breath to clamp down on her emotions. Was he offering to share his beer? For them to drink from the same bottle? Doing something like that was way too intimate for her. Evidently not for him. A distinct warmth coiled around her midsection. The way his eyes darkened wasn’t helping matters.
She should call his bluff and take a sip. But that might lead to other things. It might give him ideas. The same ideas floating crazily through her head. The last thing she needed was an involvement with a man. Any man. Especially him. Her work was too important to her. The idea of an October fling was not. “No thanks. I had one earlier and one was enough for me.”
Instead of saying anything, he nodded and raised the bottle to his lips to drain the rest. She watched his throat work. When had seeing a man drink anything been a turn-on?
When he finished the bottle and lowered it, she asked, “Want another one?”
He smiled at her. “No, one was enough for me.”
She couldn’t help but smile back at his use of her words. “I don’t know, Gavin Blake. You seem like the sort of guy that could handle a couple of those.”
“You’re right, but that’s not why I’m here.”
His words were a reminder that he hadn’t shown up tonight for chitchat and drinking beer. “Yes, you said you wanted to talk. Is there a problem?” Layla knew there was and figured he was about to spell it out for her.
“Who taught you to play the harmonica?”
She’d expected him to just dive in. His question threw her. “My grandfather,” she said, angling her head to look up at him. “He was the best. At least most people thought so.”
“And who was your grandfather?”
“Chip Harris.”
Surprise made Gavin’s jaw drop. “Chip Harris? The Chip Harris?”
Layla nodded. “Yes,” she said, intentionally keeping her voice light. Very few people knew that. It wasn’t something she boasted about, although she was proud of her grandfather’s success and accomplishments. He’d been a good man, a great humanitarian and a gifted musician. But most of all he had been a wonderful grandfather. Her grandparents had helped to keep her world sane during the times her parents had made it insane.
Layla saw Gavin’s dark, penetrating eyes suddenly go cold. “Is anything wrong?”
“So that’s how you did it.”
She raised a brow. “That’s how I did what?”
“How you were able to talk my grandmother into going along with your crazy scheme of Jesse James’s treasure being buried on my property. You probably heard she’s a big fan of Chip Harris, and used the fact that you’re his granddaughter to get in good with her. Get Gramma Mel to trust you and—”
“You jerk.” Anger flared through her. His accusations filled her with rage. “How dare you accuse me of doing something so underhanded, so unethical and low? You might not know me but you know your grandmother. How can you think so little of her to imagine she has such a weak mind she could be taken in by anyone? How can you not trust her judgment?”
Layla drew in a disgusted breath and then added furiously, “For your information, I never once mentioned anything about my relationship to Chip Harris to her. Ms. Melody’s decision was based on my research, which she took the time to read. And she asked questions and found some of her own answers. So regardless of what you believe, her decision was based on facts, Gavin Blake. Facts and nothing more.”
Gavin was stunned by Layla’s rage. When her words sank in, he regretted accusing her of manipulating Gramma Mel. He’d crossed the line and he knew it. He owed her an apology. “I’m sorry. I should not have accused you of that.”
“But you did. Save your apology for your grandmother. She’s one of the most intelligent women I know. But tonight you made her out to be a woman who can be influenced easily by anything, especially name-dropping. Like I said, you should know your grandmother better than that.”
Gavin didn’t say anything. Probably because he knew she was right. His grandmother was as sharp as a tack. She’d told Layla so many stories of how he’d tried to pull one over on her...unsuccessfully. Maybe he should do what his grandmother had done and read Layla’s report for himself.
“I should not have come here tonight,” he finally said.
“No, you should not have, especially if you came to talk that kind of BS. I don’t have time for it.”
Layla’s words seemed to irritate him. “You don’t think I have a right to question why you’re here?”
She didn’t back down. In fact she took a step closer. “You have every right. But you already know why I’m here. If you don’t agree with your grandmother or you want to question why I feel a dig on the Silver Spurs is warranted, I can understand that. But what you did, Gavin, is question my integrity. I take that personally.”
“You have to admit the idea of buried treasure on my land is pretty far-fetched.”
“Maybe to you but not to me. You’re a SEAL. I’m sure there are times when you engage in covert operations where the facts lead you to believe your assignment will be successful...although logically it doesn’t seem possible.”
He frowned. “It’s not the same.”
“I think it is. I did my research on the life of Jesse James. Five years’ worth. I studied his life, specifically that bank robbery in Tinsel. That’s what led me here. If you took the time to read my research, you would see it’s all there. All I’m asking is for you to give me the same courtesy Ms. Melody did and take the time to read my work.”
“I don’t have to read a report to know what you’re claiming isn’t true.”
In frustration, Layla blew out a breath and threw up her hands. “Why are you so stubborn?”
Instead of answering he gave her a careless shrug of his broad shoulders. “I’m not being stubborn. Just realistic.”
He wasn’t even trying to be reasonable. “So what do you want, Gavin? Since you believe that I’ve hoodwinked your grandmother and I’m a lunatic on the hunt for buried treasure, did you come here tonight to ask me to leave? To tell me to get off your property because you won’t allow me and my team to dig?”
When he didn’t say anything but continued to stare down at her with those dark, penetrating eyes of his, she knew what she’d just said was true. “Fine. I’ll leave in the morning.”
She moved with the intention of walking around him to show him the door. He surprised her when he reached out and grabbed her arm. The moment he touched her it seemed every hormone in her body sizzled. She couldn’t move away from him. His hand skimmed down her arm in a sensual caress.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She heard the tension in her voice and felt her heart rate quicken. Their gazes held and something hot in the depths of his eyes held her hostage. She wanted to break eye contact and couldn’t. How could any one man have so much sex appeal? Create such primal attraction?
Layla became angry with herself because of her reaction to him. The man standing in front of her had destroyed her plans. He’d placed her in a difficult position with the administration at the university and with her team. She’d have to cancel excavation and lose her funding. She might never get another chance to prove her theories. Yet at that moment all she could think about was how fully aware of him she was.
“What I’m doing is touching you,” he answered moments later, as if he’d needed time to give her question some thought.
Well, she had news for him. He should keep his hands to himself. So why wasn’t she telling him that? And why was there a throb inside her? One that had started in her stomach but was now going lower to the juncture of her thighs? And why, when she saw his head lowering, did she just stand there? When his lips touched hers and he wrapped her in his arms, she sank into him. The same way he was sinking into her mouth.
The kiss was making her forget everything, even the fact that he wanted to throw her off his ranch. The only thing she could concentrate on was how his tongue was moving around in her mouth, sending shivers up her spine until she heard herself moan.
But he was moaning as well, and then he deepened the kiss. She recognized this for what it was. Lust. And that usually led to sex. If that was his plan, he could take it elsewhere. She had no intention of getting involved, no matter how fleetingly, with a man who refused to take her work seriously.
She pulled her mouth free and took a step back. “Like I said. I’ll be off your property in the morning.” She then walked around him to the door.
Before opening it, she glanced back at him. He stood in the same spot, staring at her as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out. Seriously? Did he think she was that complicated? As far as she was concerned, he was the problematic one.
He was the man who, with very little effort, it seemed, could tempt her to lower her guard, to surrender to this need he created inside of her. A need she hadn’t realized even existed. And it appeared he was dealing with his own need if the huge bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans was anything to go by. There were just some things an aroused man couldn’t hide.
“We need to keep sex out of this, Gavin.” She’d had to say it, considering the strong sexual chemistry flowing between them. Chemistry both of them were fully aware of.
He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing, but she saw the tightening of his jaw. Had her words hit a nerve? Had they made him realize that she wasn’t as gullible as he thought?
When he began walking toward her, her heartbeat quickened with every step he took. Never had she felt such a strong primal attraction to any man. Even his walk, his muscled thighs flexing erotically with every step, tripped her pulse. It had her drowning in the sexual vibes pouring off him.
When he came to a stop in front of her, he grabbed her hand to keep her from opening the door. Immediately, like before, they became attuned to each other. Why was there such a strong physical attraction between them? No man had ever made her forget about work. But she struggled to remember that work was the reason she was here. That and nothing else.
“Don’t know about you, but I can’t keep sex out of it, Layla. I think you know why. Whether we like it or not, there’s a strong sensual pull between us. I felt it the moment I set eyes on you this morning, and if you say you didn’t feel it as well, then you would be lying. You might pretend otherwise, but you want me as much as I want you.”
No matter what he said, she would deny it. She hadn’t come to the ranch for this. She had come to Cornerstone, Missouri, to do a job—to prove her theory and move up in her career—not to have an affair with a navy SEAL who could overtake her senses. A man who was proving, whether she wanted him to or not, that she had sexual needs she’d ignored for too long. But regardless of that proof, under no circumstances would she sleep with him. Doing so would be a very bad idea. It would be a mistake that could cost her all she’d worked for up to this point. Besides, hadn’t he all but told her to get off his land?
Instead of a straight-out denial, she said, “What I want is to be allowed to do my job. I need to do that dig, Gavin.”
His gaze hardened. “Why? To prove me wrong?”
“More than proving you wrong, I need to prove to myself and my peers that I am right. There’s a difference, but I don’t expect you to understand.”
* * *
Yes, he understood the difference. Hadn’t he felt the need to prove that he was his own man? To prove that being a SEAL hadn’t been about his grandfather’s and father’s legacies but about establishing a legacy of his own? The first Gavin Blake had been handpicked to be part of the first special operations unit that became known as the SEALs. And Gavin’s father, Gavin Blake Jr, had died a war hero after rescuing his team members and others who’d been held hostage during Desert Storm.
For years, he’d thought being Gavin Blake III was a curse more than a blessing. You couldn’t share the name of bigger-than-life SEAL predecessors without some people believing you should be invincible. It had taken years to prove to others, as well as to himself, that he was his own man. Free to make his own mistakes. Now he cherished the memories of the heroes his grandfather and father had been and he was proud to carry their names and to continue the family legacy of being a SEAL. In the end, he’d realized becoming his own man hadn’t been about proving anything to others but proving it to himself.
A part of him wanted to believe that Layla’s issues were hers alone. They were her business to deal with and not his. But for some reason he couldn’t let her go. His curiosity pushed him to say, “Don’t leave the Silver Spurs just yet, Layla.”
He saw that his words surprised her. Gave her pause. “Why? You ridiculed my years of research, accused me of manipulating your family and told me not to dig on your land. Why should I stay?”
“To convince me that you’re right.”
He could tell from her expression she thought what he’d said didn’t make sense. “I can’t do that unless you give me permission to excavate, Gavin. That’s the only way I can prove anything.”
Gavin was totally captivated by Layla Harris—by her passion for her work, and this passion between them. Why? He wasn’t sure. She was beautiful, but he’d been around beautiful women before. She was built—with lush curves, a nice backside and very attractive features—but all those were just physical attributes. Deep down, he believed there was more to Layla Harris than just her beauty, more than her intelligence. There was something inside of her she refused to let surface. And it was something he wanted to uncover.
One thing for certain, he honestly wasn’t ready for her to leave the Silver Spurs. But she was right. Why should she stay if he wouldn’t allow her to dig on his property? He gritted his teeth at the thought of any woman making him feel so needy that he’d allow her to dig up the south pasture, his special place. But he quickly remembered he’d gone six months without sex, which had a way of crippling a man’s senses.
“It’s late,” he heard himself say. “Let’s talk more tomorrow.”
“Will talking tomorrow change anything, Gavin?”
All he knew for certain was that he couldn’t think straight being this close to her. But the last thing he wanted was to wake up tomorrow and find her gone. “It might,” he said. “I’m not making any promises, Layla. All I can say is that right now I’m exhausted and can’t think straight.” He would let her think his muddled mind was due to exhaustion and not the degree of desire he had for her.
“Will you read my research?”
He wouldn’t lie about that. “No. You can go over the important aspects of your work when we meet tomorrow.”
She stared at him for a long moment as if weighing his words. Finally, she said, “Alright. I’ll stay until we can talk.”
Relief poured through his body, quickly followed by frustration and annoyance. No woman could tie him in knots like Layla seemed capable of doing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he’d first arrived, her hair had been neatly pulled back. Had he mussed up her hair when he’d kissed her? Maybe that was why the loose curls now teasing her forehead were a total turn-on.
“Good night, Gavin.”
That was his cue to go. “Good night.” He opened the door and stepped out into the cold Missouri night.
