Still flustered, Blair nodded. “Of course. Jeffrey, go clean up now and change into clean clothes.”
“Okay, Aunt Blair.” He headed obligingly for the door.
“If only he were always that agreeable,” she murmured, mostly to herself, as she watched her nephew disappear inside. And then she turned to Scott with a frown. “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”
He gave her an innocent look. “Do what?”
“Flirt with me in front of Jeffrey. You’ll confuse him. He’s too young to understand what you’re like.”
Scott drew himself up a bit straighter and rested his hands on his hips, studying her with a deceptively bland smile. “And what am I like?”
She frowned at him, reluctant to expand on her accusation. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I’m not sure I do. Surely you aren’t accusing me of being a compulsive playboy? A woman chaser?”
“Well, I—”
“Because if I were that kind of man, I’d have done much more than call you cute and talk about wanting to kiss you. Being alone like this with a beautiful woman would be more temptation than I could resist.”
Blair felt her cheeks heat. Beautiful? Did he really think so, or was he— She frowned again and shook her head, telling herself he was simply being difficult. Again. “I didn’t say you...”
He took a step nearer, so close he had only to lift his hand to touch her warm cheek. He seemed suddenly bigger, his shoulders broader. He smelled of fish and fresh air and healthy male, and the combination was surprisingly enticing. Blair couldn’t help thinking of Hal Berkley, the accountant who had been asking her out for the past couple of months. The expensive colognes he wore might appeal to some women, but she found herself suddenly, unexpectedly responding to a more basic, earthy scent.
Funny. Until this moment, she’d never suspected she had a weakness for charming cowboys. But it was a weakness she refused to indulge. Like her fondness for rich chocolate, this was a craving that had to be resisted because it wasn’t at all good for her.
“If I were that kind of guy,” Scott continued blandly, his fingertips rising to stroke a strand of hair from her temple, “I would have to take advantage of this opportunity to try to steal a kiss from that soft, pretty mouth...”
He leaned even closer, his breath warm against her lips, which parted in automatic reaction. His fingers slipped into her hair, exerting just enough pressure behind her head to bring her up on tiptoe. His lips barely brushed hers when he spoke again. “And if I were that type of man, I wouldn’t want to stop with a kiss.”
Her mouth trembled against his. With every ounce of her being, she wanted to slide her arms around his neck and find out exactly what this man’s kiss could do to her. And maybe it was because she wanted it so badly that she jerked backward, pulling herself away from him. She was terribly worried that just kissing Scott McKay might not be enough for her, either.
“I, uh, I’ll see what I can find to go with the fish.”
“Chicken,” Scott murmured, his eyes mocking her.
“We’re having fish, not chicken.” She held her chin high as she made the bad joke, determined to prove he hadn’t rattled her. He had, of course—seriously—but she saw no need for him to know it.
She’d bought a mentor for Jeffrey, she reminded herself as she went inside. Not a man for herself. If there was one thing she did not need in her already stressful life, it was a gorgeous, footloose cowboy.
CHAPTER SIX
JEFFREY DIDN’T seem to notice any awkwardness between Blair and Scott during dinner. Maybe it was because he was too excited about eating the fish he had caught himself, or maybe it was because Scott talked and joked and teased as easily as he had before that odd interlude on the porch. Maybe it was only Blair who felt as though something had changed. Maybe she was only imagining undercurrents of awareness sizzling between her and Scott.
Maybe too much rest and relaxation were doing strange things to her mind, she thought wryly. Compulsive workaholics simply weren’t cut out for self-indulgent sloth.
“Don’t you like your trout, Aunt Blair?” Jeffrey asked, looking at
her plate.
She forced a smile. “It’s delicious. I’m savoring it.”
He swallowed the last bite of his serving. “You cooked it good, Scott.”
“Thanks. The vegetables your aunt prepared to go with it are good, too, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, they’re fine. How did you learn to cook fish like this, Scott?”
Blair wasn’t offended. Jeffrey had been eating her cooking for the past six months. It was only natural that he would be more impressed by Scott’s culinary expertise.