His for the Taking - By Ann Major Page 0,17

eyes traced her curves. “I wish you’d suggested that when we had the chance.”

“No sexual innuendo. You promised!”

“No, I promised not to touch you.”

“Innuendo leads to touching….”

He smiled. “You’re saying there’s hope.”

“I’m saying don’t!”

“Then stop tempting me by blushing so charmingly.”

“There you go again!”

“Look, you’re not committing a crime…just because you’re beautiful. You could dress sexier. That wouldn’t be a crime either. Hell, it’s a bigger crime that you don’t.”

Her breath caught. Did he want to kiss her again as much as she wanted his mouth on hers?

Don’t even think about it, or look at his lips, because he’ll see how much you want him.

When he climbed inside and started the truck, she snapped on her seat belt. The nearness of him and the faint scent of his lemony aftershave made her blood quicken and her hands tremble. As they sped toward his ranch, her pulse beat unsteadily just because he was beside her.

When he sucked in a long breath, she realized he was on edge, too.

“It’s really hot,” she said.

“It’s July.”

They made a few more inane remarks about the weather and climate change before lapsing into a silence that lasted until they reached his house.

The Colemans had long been a respected family in Texas, so naturally, like everybody else in town, she’d always wanted to see his grand yet informal house up close. But since he’d never considered her part of his world, he’d never issued an invitation.

As a girl, all she’d managed to catch were glimpses of his big, white house with its columns and wide verandas from her secret hiding place in the brush. How she’d admired the house and the barn and the swimming pool and tennis courts where she’d watched him play tennis with Lizzie. A paved road wound past grassy paddocks where horses sometimes grazed.

How different today was now that she was formally invited. How excited she felt when he parked at his front door and let her out in full view of his wiry foreman, Joe Pena. Not that some of her high spirits weren’t dashed when the older man’s weathered face blanched after Cole asked him to saddle Raider and a suitable mare for them to ride later.

“Miss Gray hasn’t ridden in six years, so maybe Lily would be perfect,” Cole said.

Joe smiled affably enough at Cole, but his jaw hardened whenever he looked at her. “Thank you,” she said to Joe.

Without a word to her or a glance in her direction, the man turned his back on her and marched stiffly toward the barn.

Her mother had slept with Joe once or twice, and that had caused a rift in his marriage.

Cole took Maddie’s arm gently. “Don’t mind Joe,” he murmured as he swept her up the stairs and inside his house.

“It’s hard to forget that here I’ll always be Jesse Ray Gray’s daughter.”

“It’s way past time you grew a thicker hide.”

“How—when all it takes is a dark look or a remark to bring it all back?”

“If you want me to follow him to the barn and invite him to a boxing match, I will.”

“No.”

“Good, because it’s too hot for a boxing match. So forget about Joe and his stupid prejudices.”

It was difficult when she knew his prejudices were well-founded.

The minute Cole shut the front door behind them, she felt as if she were in another, more privileged world. He pointed to a low table near a window and said she could set her purse down.

After doing so, she smiled in appreciation as he led her through a series of pleasant, oak-paneled rooms with tall ceilings, rooms that generations of women in his family had filled with antiques, Texas memorabilia and family history that included many pictures of the Colemans socializing with famous Texans and various presidents.

How did it feel to have a family you could be proud of?

She felt nothing but shame as she remembered the stench of her mother’s trailer and the garbage-strewn lot it had shared with another even sorrier trailer on the edge of town. Had her mother ever taken a single photograph of her? The only pictures she had of herself were tattered school pictures that Miss Jennie had given her.

Here photographs of friends and family were abundantly displayed on walls and shelves. When his mother’s likeness glowered at her from a beige wall, Maddie flushed with guilt. Did his mother already know he’d stopped by Miss Jennie’s to see her?

“As you can see, Colemans aren’t good at throwing stuff away,” he said.

“Because you have a history