Page 100 of Texas Honor

“Why?” he repeated.

Her face went rigid. “You don’t touch me.”

“Sure I do,” he argued gently. “I touch you all the time.”

“Well, not like you did before,” she muttered.

“You haven’t been all that approachable,” he said. “I thought you didn’t want it.”

She threw up her hands. “Since when did that ever stop you? Weren’t you the one who was backing me up against trees when I’d barely gotten here in the first place?”

His eyebrows arched. Maggie in a temper was a new and tantalizing proposition. He tilted his chin up, pursing his lips as he gazed down at her. “My, don’t we sound frustrated, though?”

“We aren’t frustrated.” She threw her napkin down and got to her feet. “I think I’ll go to bed.”

“So early? It’s barely seven o’clock,” he remarked with a glance at his watch.

“I’ll need plenty of rest to cope with tomorrow,” she said, turning.

“Maggie.”

She stopped with her back to him. “Yes?”

He moved closer. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel the warmth of him behind her. “If you want me to make love to you, all you have to do is tell me. Not even that. Cut your eyes around, smile at me, flirt with me.... Men need a little encouragement. We don’t read minds.”

“I’ve done everything except take my clothes off for you,” she said through her teeth.

“No, you haven’t. You’ve managed to keep right out of my way all week. I haven’t been avoiding you, honey. It’s pretty much the other way around.”

She drew in a slow breath. He was right. She hadn’t realized it, but he was right. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” she murmured. “I’ve been worried—about Dennis, and if we’re doing the right thing to marry.... I’ve been worried about a lot of things.”

“Want to talk?” he asked gently.

She nodded without turning her head.

“Come on, then. The cattle can live without me for a while.” He caught her hand in his and led her into his study, closing the door behind them. “I won’t lock it,” he said dryly, letting go of her hand. “Does that make you feel more secure?”

“I’m not afraid of you that way,” she told him, surprised that he should think so. “You’re nothing like Dennis. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“I suppose that’s something,” he said gently. He held her gaze for a long moment, feeling the electricity all the way down to his toes. He laughed because it disturbed him, and he turned away to perch on the edge of his desk and light a cigarette.

He’d cleaned up for supper but was still wearing denims and a green print shirt. He looked very Western, completely masculine, and Maggie’s fingers itched to run through his thick black hair.

He was doing his own share of looking at the picture she made in loose mauve slacks and a taupe blouse, both silky and very sensuous. With her short dark hair framing her face and her green eyes wide and soft, she was a vision.

“You look more and more like your mother,” he remarked unexpectedly. “She was a beauty, too.”

Maggie flushed. “I’m not pretty.”

“You are to me,” he replied. “I like the way you look.”

“Thanks.” She sat down on the long leather divan and folded her hands in her lap.

“You wanted to talk,” he said, waving his cigarette in her direction. “What about?”

“What if we lose the court case?”

“For God’s sake, we aren’t going to lose,” he said shortly, impatient with her. “I won’t let him have Becky.”