Taking Home the Tycoon (Texas Cattleman's Club: Blackmail 9)

After washing the pans, he dished up the kids’ food and placed it on their small, plastic table tucked in the corner. “Coloring break and time for grub.”

Max ruffled Lexie’s hair and yet was careful to keep his hands off her son, clearly aware Colby preferred to call the shots on hugs.

Natalie said softly, “Thank you.”

For more than the food. For the thought. For being here. For the three perfect, sprinkle-free circles on Colby’s plate that weren’t stacked.

Max spread his hands. “All under control. And as much as I would like to stay here and, uh, dance with you, I need to head over to the Cattleman’s Club to meet with some members.”

He started grabbing the cooking supplies to put them away, eyes flicking to the B and B guests that stood at the threshold of the kitchen. She joined him, gathering more supplies in her hands, and they went into the pantry. Together.

Away from people, he set down his supplies, leaned in for a kiss.

A deep body sigh had her melting into him. The kiss wasn’t as feverish as last night, but it was every bit as hungry.

Maybe it was she who was hungry. Despite all her talk about self-control, she allowed herself just a moment to touch him. His strong chest and arms. The corded neck. His warm jaw, where the skin bristled ever so slightly against her palms.

Just one kiss and she felt like she might come out of her skin.

“Why are you pursuing me so?” She eased back to look into his eyes.

Not his talented lips. Nope. Not looking there.

She struggled to catch her breath, and staring at his sexy

-as-hell mouth would not help matters.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Didn’t understand? Or didn’t want to discuss it?

For her part, she’d rather lose herself in the feel of his mouth on hers again. The feel of his hands on her waist. Her back. Her everywhere.

But she couldn’t go on like this, kissing in pantries. “I’m not exactly your type,” she said to clarify.

“Natalie,” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot. “Stop with Googling stuff about me and get to know the real person.”

Her thoughts scrambled at the feel of his lips against her neck. “I Google everyone who stays here—for safety purposes.”

“Sure. You like me, though.” He skimmed his mouth back around to hers, his grin decidedly devilish.

Handsome. Hot. Charming.

He wasn’t wrong. But maybe that didn’t matter.

Still, she felt compelled to repeat what she said. “I’m really not your type.”

He angled back to look at her, his expression solemn, as if he sensed how important this mystery was to her. “You’re so sexy I’ve been on fire for you since the second I saw you.” He tugged at the loose band holding up her hair, sending it free around her shoulders. His fingers combed through. “That makes you my type.”

Okay, that brought another question, perhaps an even more important one. “What if you’re not my type? I’m not talking about attraction. I’m talking about type, what’s good for me.”

Or good for her children. She had to think of them. Especially with Colby’s special needs. Sure, Max had figured out not to pat the boy on the head and to keep sprinkles out of his pancakes, but that wasn’t the same as dealing with the challenges of parenting a special-needs child day in and day out.

“If you don’t want me in your life, Natalie, then tell me to go.” Silence hung between them. He nodded once. “And that’s my point.”

“But as you said, this is about attraction. And yes, maybe I’m attracted to a bad-boy type, and as much as I loved my husband, I’m not saying that marriage or love guaranteed happiness.” Concern burned in her belly.

He drew closer, ran a hand up and down her arm. “Okay, so you’re saying you don’t want a relationship and there’s no replacing your husband.” He kissed her forehead. “Let’s stop talking about types and the past. It’s not about trying to logically explain what’s happening between us.”