Tempted by the Texan

Thankfully, the server arrived with their food, breaking the tension building between them, and Jaron took a deep, fortifying breath. He was going to have to be extremely careful or else he was going to make the same error in judgment he’d made a few nights ago—something he couldn’t allow himself to do. No matter how much he wanted to make love to Mariah, he had to stay strong and resist the temptation. He wasn’t right for her and no amount of lovemaking would ever change that.

They both remained silent while they ate, and by the time they were finished with the meal, Jaron couldn’t have said whether he’d had a rib-eye steak or a piece of worn boot leather. Through the entire meal all he’d been able to think about was holding her while they danced, and he knew as surely as he knew his own name he was in for a night of frustration, ending with a shower cold enough to freeze the tail feathers off a penguin.

When the band started warming up, he glanced over at Mariah, and the twinkle of excitement in her eyes was enough to convince him that he’d endure whatever hell came his way. There was no way he was going to disappoint her.

“I think I’ll go freshen up before the dancing starts,” she said, rising from her chair.

He waited until she disappeared down the hall leading to the ladies’ lounge before he rose from the table, walked up to the bandstand and pulled five one-hundred-dollar bills from his jeans pocket. Handing it to the band’s front man, he explained what he wanted, then with the man’s assurance that the majority of the songs during the first set would be slow ones, Jaron walked back to the table and waited for Mariah to return.

“Are you ready to kick up your heels, cowboy?” she asked, smiling as she sat down on the chair beside him.

“I think I’d better warn you that I’m not much for dancing,” he said, wondering if he’d ever seen her look more beautiful.

“I know,” she said, grinning. “I’ve been attending family parties for years and I’ve never once seen you dance.”

He shrugged. “That’s because I’m not of a mind to make a fool of myself.”

She cupped his cheek with her soft palm and sent his blood pressure up a good fifty points. “You’re not going to make a fool of yourself, Jaron. If you’d like, we can dance the slow dances and if someone asks, I’ll save the faster ones for him.”

Her long, dark brown hair framed her pretty face and hung over her shoulders to cover her breasts. It made him want to run his fingers through the silky strands. But it was what she was wearing that sent his pulse into overdrive. Dressed in tight-fitting designer jeans with rhinestones on the hip pockets and a shimmery dark purple top, she had to be revving the engine of every guy in the place. The thought of another man holding her while they two-stepped around the dance floor caused him to grind his teeth. Even though he had no claim on her and had no right to make one without entering into a relationship with her, Jaron made a vow right then and there that he’d be damned before he watched her dance with anyone else.

“Like hell,” he muttered as the band broke into the first notes of a popular slow country song.

“What was that?” she asked, leaning close.

Fortunately she hadn’t heard him, and he didn’t intend to enlighten her on his inner struggle. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but let’s dance, darlin’.”

Rising to his feet, Jaron reached for her hand to lead her out onto the dance floor. As he took her into his arms, he surveyed the restaurant and caught several men watching Mariah. The appreciative looks on their faces did little to improve his dour mood.

But he quickly forgot about the other male patrons in the restaurant as he pulled Mariah a little closer. The feel of her lithe form rubbing against him as they swayed in time to the music caused him to react in a very predictable, very male way. All he could think about was the night he’d made love to her and how her soft body had felt as they moved together in perfect unison.

Telling himself to move away before he did something stupid, he made the mistake of glancing down at her delicate hand resting on his chest. Even through his chambray shirt, the warm feel of her palm sent a shock wave of need to the core of his being. Without another thought to the consequences, he lifted her chin with his forefinger and covered her mouth with his. Her sweet lips clung to his, fueling the rapidly building fire within him, and he couldn’t have stopped himself from deepening the kiss if his life depended on it.

Forgetting where they were, he coaxed her to open for him and slowly, thoroughly savored her. He had a feeling he could quickly become addicted to Mariah’s sweetness, and if that wasn’t enough to scare him senseless, the fact that she could make him forget where they were and what they were doing was.