The Texan's Baby (Texas Rodeo Barons)

She’d have to remember to ask him what that meant later. Right now she was having a hard time focusing on much of anything, Chris was being so distracting.

He took her hand and led her to the door of the arena, slipping inside but leaving the lights off.

Nerves bubbled around in her stomach. She should be pulling away. Should be insisting that they leave and go home. Should be protesting that this would only make things worse...

The problem was she wanted to be with him as much as he seemed to want to be with her. The attraction of that first night hadn’t been a one-time, flip-it-off-with-a-switch kind of feeling. It was still there. It was in the tingling of her lips where he’d kissed her, the ache of her fingertips wanting to touch him.

“Th-this is the arena. As you can see we had chutes put in on the west side for when the boys want to train, and over there we have barrels for barrel racing.” She pointed a shaky finger but Chris caught her hand and clasped it in his.

“That’s all very interesting,” he whispered. “Do you know that I always thought it was crazy when people spoke of a pregnant glow? But now I get it, because you have it, Lizzie. You have a light about you that is beautiful.”

She’d been melting without needing the sweet words, but having them weakened her resolve even more. No one had ever called her beautiful before. Smart, efficient, driven, responsible...but not beautiful.

And sometimes a girl liked to be called pretty, she admitted, if only to herself.

“What are we doing, Chris?” He was standing too close again, and she felt her shoulders and bottom touch the smooth wall at the entrance to the ring as she stepped backward. There was nowhere to go now—not that she really wanted to.

“Getting to know each other. We’re doing what we would have done if we’d met here, gone out on dates like a normal couple.”

If they’d done things in the predictable order, he meant. If they hadn’t hooked up and jumped instantly into bed. If there had been no consequences to their poor judgment...

Consequences.

“Stop thinking,” he suggested, running a hand down her arm. “Just for a little while. Just stop and let yourself be.”

The arena was dark and he pressed up against her, just lightly, but enough that her body came alive at every point where they touched. His lips teased hers, soft and warm as he melted against her. She could feel the hard planes of his body against her skin, through her shirt, and she lifted a hand, running it under the soft cotton and over the warmth of his taut ribs.

Holy smokes, he was firm and muscled and she felt the way his breath caught beneath her fingertips. The pressure against her mouth intensified and he shifted, moving one hand over her shoulder, down her collarbone to cup her breast in his hand. The pressure felt so good she rolled into it a little, knowing they should stop but not wanting to at all.

His hips came flush with hers and she felt the evidence of his desire.

“You still do this to me,” he murmured, cradling her face in his hands, kissing her in between snatches of words. “I don’t know why, or how. You kill me, Lizzie. Come home with me tonight.”

“What about keeping things simple?”

He shook his head, but she could see the intense look in his eyes despite the dark shadows. “We’ll never be simple, Liz. I’m starting to realize that.”

He kissed her again, turning her knees to jelly. She’d always been one to keep her head about her when it came to men. Never lost sight of her goals or priorities. Why was Christopher Miller so different? Why did he seem to have special sexy powers where she was concerned?

“Not your motel room,” she disagreed. “Not like before. Come to my place. Just this once. Just to...scratch this itch we can’t seem to get rid of.”

He didn’t answer, just lifted his head enough that she could see the fire blazing in the dark depths. Then he took her hand in a firm grip and led her from the arena.

Apparently the tour was over.

Chapter Eleven

Sunlight filtered through the cracks of Lizzie’s blinds and she squinted against the glare, opening one eye just a crack to check the clock beside the bed.

Seven-thirty.

She should get up. She was usually ready to leave for the office by now if she wasn’t there already, getting ahead of the big rush on the DART that took her right downtown. This morning there was another warm body beside her in the bed, though, and she hadn’t gotten up and snuck away like she had the first time they’d been together.

Chris lay beside her, flat on his stomach, his face turned towards her on the mattress and the sheets pooled around his hips.

He was naked under there. And damned if the idea didn’t hold more allure than it should.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, without opening his eyes and her cheeks flamed.