looks at you. There’s enough there to build on—you mark my words.”
Elissa tingled. Yes, he did look at her as if she were a sumptuous dessert. But there was still Bess to consider. She sighed.
“Don’t worry about it,” the older woman coaxed. “Just say yes, and I’ll take care of everything. Let’s see, invitations and the reception, and champagne and hors d’oeuvres,” she murmured.
Elissa didn’t say anything else. She was too worried.
They sat down to supper alone, and after cleaning up, Margaret finally went home, bubbling with happiness. Elissa arranged a plate for King and covered it, and she was just wiping up a spill on the floor when King walked in the back door.
He looked at little dusty and very tired. He studied her from under the wide brim of his Stetson, taking in the picture she made in a loose gold-and-white caftan, kneeling there against the spotless cream linoleum.
“You’re a picture, do you know it?” he mused. “All that long, sexy hair and big blue eyes, and your tan looks pretty good with white and gold.”
She stood up, smiling. “You look like a cowboy,” she replied.
His eyebrows arched. “Is that a compliment or a criticism?”
She lowered her eyes shyly. “I like cowboys.”
“Where’s Margaret?”
“Gone home. I’ve fixed you a plate, if you’re hungry.”
He looked faintly sheepish for a minute, steadying his dusty boots. “Well, Jim was up at the cow camp with us,” he began. “Jim’s the cook when we’re working. He rustled up a pot of chili and some tortillas and a pudding that I expect to dream about for days.” He cocked his head at her. “Don’t tell Margaret, will you? I’ll get burned biscuits for a week if she finds out. Could you dispose of that plateful of stuff without her knowing?”
She laughed delightfully. “Of course.”
“I’ll be down directly, once I clean up, and I’ll thank you properly,” he murmured, lowering his voice an octave.
She felt her heart skip at the look in his dark eyes as he went by her. He winked on his way into the hall, and she watched him go, feeling strangely quiet and contented yet delirious with anticipation.
He paused on the middle step and looked down at her. “How about making some coffee?” he asked. “I’ll come back down and we’ll share a pot while we talk.”
His eyes fell to her body and lingered. She felt weak in the knees. He wanted more than just talk, and she knew it. They were so much on the same wavelength that she could almost feel him breathing.
“I’ll do that,” she said, her voice husky.
He nodded. His eyes smiled. “And I could do with a piece of cake, if there’s any left,” he added.
“There’s enough. I’ll slice it. Don’t drown in the shower,” she teased.
“I can swim.” He grinned and continued up the stairs.
Elissa made coffee and carried the silver service into the living room, curling up on the sofa to wait for him. Minutes later he joined her, dressed in clean denims and a half-unbuttoned blue-check shirt. His hair was damp, and he smelled of soap and spicy cologne. Elissa could hardly take her eyes off him as he eased his tall, powerful frame down on the sofa beside her.
“I’ll pour,” she said. She sounded, and was, flustered. To disguise it, she moved to the floor in front of the coffee table so that she was just in front of him. It was all she could do to get the coffee out of the heavy silver pot into the white china cups.
“You’re nervous. Why?” he asked quietly.
She laughed. “I don’t know.”
He reached down, turning her so that she was kneeling between his legs. His fingers traced her flushed cheeks, and his eyes were steady on hers. Everything she felt was in her face—it was like reading a book—and his reaction to that blatant adoration shocked him. He felt a surge of possession strong enough to knock the breath out of him, and his body was suddenly, achingly hungry for hers. Not for sex alone but for something more. He frowned. He’d never felt that need before, not with any woman. He wanted to...to join with Elissa. To know her in every way there was.
He felt oddly young as he bent toward her, and the first touch of his mouth against her soft one was tentative. He drank in the floral scent of her, drowned in her shy, eager response. It was always like this with her, like flying, like bubbles in champagne. She