A Town Called Valentine - By Emma Cane Page 0,93

took over, mounting him, controlling both of their pleasure. His grin faded and they stared into each other’s eyes as their bodies, their very wills, took hold, sweeping away lighthearted play, leaving them desperate and yearning and overcome.

Only when she was collapsed at his side, staring stupidly up at the ceiling, was she able to think rationally. “I have ice cream.”

He gave a hoarse chuckle. “You should have said that before. It might have made things interesting.”

“Instead of boring?” she asked sweetly.

He slapped both hands to his chest as if she’d shot him. When she sat up, he said, “No clothes allowed.”

“But I think my front curtains are open!”

“No clothes.”

Giggling foolishly, she crept down the hall, ducked into her galley kitchen for chocolate ice cream and two spoons, then dashed back to her bedroom. Nate was waiting for her, propped up on pillows against the headboard, still naked. She skidded to a halt, her mouth open, and almost tossed aside the ice cream. Damn, he looked good, all lean, long muscle.

He was watching her just as intently, and she was as unembarrassed as if he’d been looking at her nude forever. It was daunting—it was exhilarating—it was confusing. So she opened the ice cream and took a spoonful, her gaze never leaving him.

“You can be my second dessert,” she said.

He laughed and patted the bed, then scooped her against his side. They shared the ice cream, feeding each other or themselves, and when a dollop landed on her breast, he licked it off.

“Wait, wait,” she said, laughing, putting her fingers over his mouth. “I have something to ask you. I heard you and your friends talking about the rodeo. Brooke explained that it’s your family tradition.”

“Yep.” He slowly licked his spoon, and he wasn’t watching her face, as if he anticipated licking other things.

It would have been so easy to melt into a chocolate puddle beneath him.

“I’m surprised you never mentioned it,” she said curiously.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he said, “and I wasn’t sure you’d still be here.”

“The girls will probably pressure me to enter the baking competition. Are you okay with that?”

He smiled, but for some reason, she wasn’t certain it reached his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We’re . . . just dating. This is your family event or tradition or whatever, and if you felt I’d be intruding . . .” She felt like an idiot, worried about his reaction when it was a public event anyone could attend. Much as she wanted to keep things casual, it was starting not to feel that way for her, but she couldn’t let him know that. Maybe the sex had changed things since she’d always considered herself an old-fashioned girl. But she had to grow beyond that girl.

“I was simply waiting to see if you’d still be here for the rodeo before I asked,” Nate said. “I’d like you to come.”

“Then it’s a date.” But she still felt awkward, and he must have sensed that, because he cupped her cheek and leaned forward to softly kiss her.

“Sorry,” he murmured against her lips.

“It’s really okay,” she murmured back, then forgot about the ice cream.

Chapter Twenty

Saturday evening, after the flower shop closed, Emily was making a cheesecake to take to the Thalbergs for dessert the next day, when Monica rang the bell and came up to join her.

Monica looked at the batter with its chunks of brownie pieces and nuts. “Oh, please, can I have the bowl, Mom?”

Emily laughed. “If you’re a good girl.”

“I came up to tell you that Nate stopped by at lunch. Did he catch up with you later?”

Emily frowned. “No, no messages.”

“He saw his brother’s handiwork in their new special display.”

“What did he say?”

“He seemed surprised, like Josh hadn’t told him. And Josh apparently didn’t tell him he was taking you to lunch.” Monica blinked her big brown eyes innocently.

Emily waved a hand, then licked batter off her finger before it spread anyplace else. “There wasn’t a plan. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

“Okay. Think that’s a good idea, when something’s going on between those two?”

“A good idea?” Emily echoed, confused. “Josh is a client. Why would Nate care?”

“I don’t know. But I thought you seemed a little upset about not knowing about the rodeo. And since he didn’t call you, maybe he’s a little upset you didn’t tell him about Josh.”

Emily opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. Was dating truly getting this complicated? She was trying hard not to involve Nate too deeply in her life—how

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