going to consist of whatever was in his freezer.
When he got to the door to his room and glanced inside, his mouth gaped. Patsy was standing in the middle of the room in a black negligee so scanty he thought for sure his heart would slam to a stop if he stared at her too long.
“Won’t you get cold at the restaurant?” he asked when he could find his voice.
Her confident expression faltered just a little. “You still want to go out?”
He barely held back a grin at her wistful tone. “Not if you don’t.”
“I thought I was making myself pretty clear.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten our signals crossed.”
“Justin, you will never make sheriff if you can’t read a clue this obvious.”
He grinned. “Okay, let me try.” He paused thoughtfully. “You are less interested in dinner than you are in seduction.”
She stepped toward him and nodded. “Very good,” she praised.
She slid her arms around his neck. “And this?”
“No waiting?”
“Oh, yes,” she murmured just before she stood on tiptoe and kissed him with an enthusiasm that left not a single doubt in either of their minds about how they were going to spend the rest of the evening.
Chapter Fifteen
Patsy was very proud of the way she’d managed to render Justin Adams totally speechless. Lying next to him in his bed, she felt as if she’d finally come home, finally met a man who thought of her as an equal, a partner. Maybe she was being a fool for setting some artificial time constraint on the relationship.
“Satisfied?” he asked, regarding her with an amused look.
“Oh, my, yes,” she said.
“What happens now?” he asked.
Her expression faltered. “I guess that depends on you.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, Patsy Gresham Longhorn. For the past twenty-four hours you’ve been telling me every way you knew how that you are capable of making your own decisions, capable of taking the initiative, capable of standing on your own two feet, that you insist on standing on your own two feet, come what may.”
“There are still some things that are a man’s prerogative,” she admitted unwillingly.
“Such as?”
She was not going to put these words into his mouth. Nor was she quite brave enough to demand that he marry her and make an honest woman of her. Maybe if neither of them could put the question into words, there was a reason for it. Maybe it really was too soon after Will.
Even if she did absolutely adore being in his bed, with his arms around her and her head resting against his chest.
She sighed, rolled over and stood up. Justin regarded her with surprise.
“Where are you going?”
“You promised me dinner.”
“Sorry, darlin’. The cupboard’s practically bare.” He grinned. “We could order in. That would certainly make Angie’s day over at the Italian restaurant. Or we could call Rosa and ask her to deliver some Mexican. Of course, she is related to the housekeeper at White Pines, which means there would be more talk.”
“Are you saying there is not one tiny little scrap of food in this house?”
“Not even a cracker.” He surveyed her thoroughly. “And you’re not exactly dressed to go to the restaurant I had in mind.” He beckoned to her. “Maybe if you climb back into bed I can make you forget all about your growling tummy.”
“I’m sure you could,” she agreed. “But without food neither of us will survive another round of really energetic sex.”
“Then we’ll take it nice and slow,” he said in a provocative way that set her blood to pumping furiously.
She was still standing there debating the wisdom of that when Justin’s beeper went off. In an instant, he was all cop. He grabbed the beeper from his nightstand, reaching for the phone at the same time.
“What is it?” he demanded, even as he scrambled to find clothes. His expression sobered. “I see. Okay, I’m on my way.”
He slammed the phone down, pulled on his shirt and unlocked the drawer to get his gun. Patsy watched him and shivered. It was a full minute before he glanced her way and noticed her expression.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, it’s okay. Of course, you have to go. What’s happened?”
“We’ve got a high speed chase on the interstate heading this way. Tate wants me to set up a roadblock.”
Patsy’s blood ran cold as images of Sharon Lynn’s wrecked car came whirling back.
He touched a finger to her cheek. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know. It’s just that...”
“The accident,” he said succinctly. “I’ll be fine, Patsy.