Читать книгу One Texas Night... - Sara Orwig - Страница 9

Three

Sleep was long in coming. And when it did, it was filled with so many dreams of Jared, Allison felt relieved to wake and see the room filled with the gray light of dawn.

She showered, dressed in pale yellow slacks and a matching shirt and went down to breakfast. Before she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jared appeared. He had been swimming. Bare chested, wearing black-and-white swim trunks with a towel over his shoulder, he paused to look up at her and her breath left her; her heart thudded against her ribs.

Instantly memories bombarded her—his broad shoulders, his sculpted chest, his body of hard planes and muscles. Recalling her mouth drifting over him, her hands exploring, touching, his body against hers... The visions came like tormenting ghosts. Her mouth went dry, and she forced in a deep breath.

She was afraid he could hear her heart pounding. “Morning swim?” she asked, her words little more than a whisper.

“Yes. I swim every morning that I can. Even though the fountains and waterfall are turned off, I’ve kept the pool heated, cleaned and treated. Hereafter you can join me. I didn’t think to tell you last night.”

“Thanks, but I’m not a morning swimmer. It has to be very hot weather to drive me to swimming.”

“Then you’ve changed. I seem to remember you in the pool every time Sloan and I would swim at your house.”

“It just seemed that way because in your eyes I was a nuisance back then,” she said, making an effort to keep her gaze on his face and not look at his naked chest again.

He grinned. “I don’t ever recall saying you were a nuisance.”

“Actually, you just paid no attention to me. I might as well have not existed.”

“And now look at you—not a kid anymore and not the least bit a nuisance,” he said, his gaze drifting slowly over her and making her warm from head to toe.

“I’m going to get breakfast. I’ll see you later,” she said, and then dragged her eyes away as she strode past him.

He placed his hand lightly on her arm and she looked up sharply. His faint touch triggered more scalding memories. In her peripheral vision she was fully aware of how close he stood, how little he wore. “I’ll be there as soon as I shower and dress,” he said. His words were harmless; his deep tone was not.

The pounding of her heart was loud in her ears. Nodding to Jared, she went down the stairs. At the foot of the steps, against good judgment, she glanced back. Standing at the top, he looked down at her. He turned, giving her a glance at his smooth back that tapered to a narrow waist, his firm butt and long muscled legs. Every inch of him embedded itself in her memory.

She couldn’t help but want this job to be over quickly so she could return to her quiet life. But just a glance at Jared in all his half-naked glory had her hot, riddled with desire. She could have an affair with Jared, couldn’t she? But that was all it would be. An affair. An affair that would, ultimately, break her heart. He would never be serious—about her or any woman. He’d said as much just last night when he had listed all the wild, adventurous things he wanted to do. She told herself that even one night with him was a risk she didn’t want to take. But then she remembered his kisses—and she realized Jared Weston was temptation personified.

She shook her head as if to dislodge the threatening thoughts and walked into the kitchen.

The ultramodern kitchen boasted dark granite countertops, stainless-steel appliances, a polished hardwood floor, dark cabinets and crown molding. Someone, she noticed, had already made coffee, and a pitcher of cold orange juice was on the counter.

She busied herself washing blueberries, washing and cutting strawberries. She turned to find Jared standing in the doorway.

“You have a way of quietly appearing,” she said, trying to ignore the buzz her system experienced at the sight of him.

“Just watching you work,” he said, coming into the kitchen. Her mouth became dry as he crossed the room to take the knife from her hands and place it on the counter. His tight jeans and navy knit shirt stretched against his sculpted muscles, giving him a more sensual appearance. As she looked up, she was barely aware of what he was doing because she was lost in his green eyes.

“Go sit and I’ll do this,” he said, without making a move to do anything. He stood too close to her, and their locked gazes made her pulse drum.

“I can help with breakfast,” she said, her voice sliding to a whisper. She looked at his mouth and remembered his kisses. “Jared,” she said as she realized she was moving slightly toward him and—

She caught herself just in time before she did something she’d regret. She moved away quickly. “You go right ahead,” she said, turning to sit at the oval oak table. When she faced him, she was surprised to find him standing where she had left him, still watching her.

Even as he stood there without moving or talking, his dynamic presence seemed to fill the room. Desire was tangible, electric.

Finally he broke the moment. With a flick of his eyes, he turned to wash his hands.

His back to her, she looked freely. Her gaze ran over the length of him, remembering how he had looked only a short time earlier when he had worn just swim trunks.

“This is ridiculous for me to sit and watch. Let me help you.” She got up and went back, this time careful to keep a safe distance between them.

She poured two cups of coffee and placed them on the table. She returned to get glasses for juice. Before she realized it, he had hemmed her in, placing his hands around her on the counter. “Go sit and relax. I’ll get breakfast.”

“You’ve got to stop doing this,” she said.

“What? Fixing breakfast?” he asked, his gaze moving to her mouth. She could barely breathe.

“You know what you’re doing right now,” she whispered. “We can’t get close to each other without—”

“Without steam rising,” he finished, meeting her gaze again.

“We weren’t going to get personal. I can’t. I’m on a job, and I don’t want to go home and send my dad here, because he’s not physically able to do this any longer. Jared, cooperate. Keep in mind I want marriage in my future. That ought to cool whatever you’re feeling.”

She gazed into inscrutable eyes that held hers captive.

“I don’t want you unhappy,” he said.

“If we stick to business, I won’t be.”

“I’m having some trouble with that.”

“Then...think of Sloan. Anything.”

At the mention of her brother, Jared stepped back a fraction. “The last thing on my mind right now is your brother,” he said in a raspy voice.

As Jared stepped farther away, she also put a few feet between them. She should feel relieved. But her heartbeat still raced, and she wanted to go back to flirting with him, to kissing, to making love again.

She moved automatically, getting dishes to set the table, pouring juice for them while he scrambled eggs. She dropped bread into the toaster, but her thoughts were still on Jared, her gaze running down the length of him when his back was turned. Desire shook her, and vivid images tormented her.

She promised herself she would work as efficiently as possible to get this job wound up so she could get away from the temptation.

Finally she sat across from him, too aware of each brush of their fingers as they passed dishes back and forth until they both had plates with toast and fluffy scrambled eggs.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and what I’d like to do is take you to see my homes in Dallas and Wyoming, and then you can help me decide what to put in them. How about that?”

Surprised, she paused, lowering her orange-juice glass to the table. “Once again, I’ll say that’s out of my area of expertise.” However, she couldn’t help thinking how much more her family business would make if she did what Jared was asking.

She hedged, saying, “I think for a task like that, you need a professional decorator.”

“I don’t want a decorator. I want your opinion on these old things. You know what’s valuable and what isn’t. You’ll know where furniture and art will fit and where it won’t. And by fit, I mean look right. You have good taste, or you wouldn’t be in this business.”

“But that’s all it would be. My taste. My opinion.”

“I understand, and that’s what I want. I trust your judgment on this.”

“You don’t even know me, and you’ve never seen where I live. You don’t know my tastes.”

“Yes, I do. I know Sloan. I know your dad. I know what the house you grew up in looks like. I have great faith in you on this matter.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” she remarked drily. “Let me think about it. That’s a whole different job from what I’m doing now.” It also meant being with him at least three times longer than she would be if she refused to accept the job. Could she work that closely with him that much longer?

“If it helps make up your mind, I will triple the amount I’m paying you now.”

She gazed at him in silence, still debating what to do. If she could resist Jared’s charm, the job would be a boon for their business. And it would make her father happy—as long as she didn’t get involved with Jared.