Page 101 of Texas Honor

“If the court says so, we’ll have to.”

“The court won’t say so.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

“I can’t help worrying.” She sighed. “Becky and I have had some hard knocks because of him. She’s worried, too.”

“Well, I’m not,” he told her. “Everything’s under control. There’s no need to dwell on it.”

“That’s right, just tell me. Like you tell everybody.” She got to her feet, lashing out at him for the first time. “You’re Tonto and the Lone Ranger. Nothing bothers you, you can beat the world....”

“I can sure as hell try,” he agreed, smiling. “Come here, saucy little woman. You’re just frustrated, and I can take care of that.”

“Oh, can you? How?” she asked with a cold, level stare.

His eyebrows arched. “Ouch,” he said. “You want to bite, don’t you?”

“I hate men,” she muttered, glaring at him.

“I figured it would come out sooner or later. I guess it’s a good thing it was sooner.” He crushed out his cigarette, slowly and deliberately, and came off the desk into a posture that made her heart race.

“Don’t you touch me,” she challenged, backing up. “I’m not in the mood to be subdued by the superior male.”

“Oh, I think you are,” he said with a slow, devilish smile. He moved toward her, holding her eyes, backing her toward the divan she’d vacated. “I think that’s exactly what you want—to be shown that I still find you desirable.”

“I won’t beg for your exclusive attentions!”

“I wouldn’t beg for yours, either,” he replied easily. “I don’t think people need to be put in that position.” He stopped when she’d reached the divan and, watching her, began to unbutton his shirt with slow, careless motions of his lean fingers.

“What are you doing now?” she asked breathlessly.

“Getting comfortable,” he murmured. “Lie down, Maggie.”

“You said we wouldn’t...!”

“And we’re not going to,” he promised. “But I think you need some reassurance. Maybe I need it, too. Marriage is a big step.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Come on, lie down,” he coaxed. He took her by the waist and eased her down onto the wide divan, sitting up long enough to strip off his shirt.

His chest was broad and brown and covered with a thick wedge of hair, and she stared at it helplessly, remembering how it felt to run her hands over it, to experience the touch of it against her breasts. Her lips parted on a wave of remembered pleasure.

He saw that, and something in him began to burst with delight. Her eyes were sultry. He loved the way they devoured him acquisitively. She wanted to touch him. He wanted that, too.

His ribs swelled with a deep breath. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “Touch me there.”

She didn’t need a second invitation. Sitting up, eyes glowing intently, she tangled her fingers in the liberal growth of his chest hair and caught her breath, loving the wiry feel of it, the play of muscles beneath it, the sudden quickness of his breathing.

“You make me burn when you do that,” he whispered above her head. “I don’t think you realize how expressive your eyes are when you look at me.”

“You have a very sexy chest,” she murmured, pressing her hands flat to savor its warm strength.

“I could return the compliment,” he said dryly. “You’re a sweet sight, too.”

His hand had worked its way between them. His knuckles were drawing gently over her collarbone, her shoulder. He ran them slowly down to the soft swell of her breast and farther, to the nipple that grew swiftly hard at the tender abrasion.

“Wouldn’t you like to lie against me with your shirt off, Maggie?” he asked at her ear. “And feel my chest against your bare breasts?”

She trembled. He made it sound sinfully delicious. Yes, of course she wanted it; but why did she have to admit it?