World's Most Eligible Texan (7 page)

When they were needed, the members of the Texas Cattleman's Club worked together secretly to save innocents' lives—and now they seemed needed here in their own home town. Five of them were working on the jewel theft and the murder of Riley Monroe. Aaron stared into the darkness and ran through the list: Justin Webb, one of the Southwest's finest surgeons. Aaron's friend Matt Walker, local rancher. There was Sheikh Ben Rassad, rancher and horseman, and there was another longtime friend, retired Air Force, ex-Special Forces man, Dakota Lewis. Dakota gave him pause.

Aaron was a friend to both Dakota and his estranged wife,
Kathy Lewis. He had known Dakota most of his life and then had got to know Kathy when they were both in Washington, D.C., just starting in their careers. He had introduced Kathy to Dakota and the two had fallen wildly in love. Aaron had been shocked to hear of their breakup.

Once again, Aaron thought about all the men working on the theft. They had diverse occupations and backgrounds, but they all had had military experience, and now they were all able to take the time to solve the disappearance of the jewels and try to learn who murdered Riley Monroe—and why.

Aaron moved restlessly, his thoughts shifting to Pamela, memories taunting him. She was fighting her feelings, but the feelings were there and they showed sometimes. Like when she had stood on tiptoe and pulled his head down to kiss him. Just remembering made him respond physically as he became aroused.

Her true feelings were revealed in her responses to his kisses. All that cool reserve had gone up in flames, and she had all but come apart in his arms. But then she would become tense, pull back, and the barriers would come up again. Why?

The first gulf between them had opened that morning when she had slipped out of his house without his knowing it. The only reason he could figure had to be her feelings about her mother's reputation and shock over how swiftly she had yielded to him.

Yet he didn't have regrets. Far from it. That night had changed his life, and he felt to his bones that it had been important to her, too. And he intended to show her and try to get her back to that openness with him, that complete giving and honesty they'd had with each other the night of the gala. One step at a time.

Every time he searched his own feelings about her, he knew she was special. He was as tied up in knots as when he'd arrived in Royal. She had done nothing to alleviate that, far from it. He ached with wanting her. He wanted to make love to her all night long. The desolation he had lived with the past few years was gone now that he was home and seeing her
again. Whatever it was that had come between them, he didn't think it would last or that it ran deep.

At least, come morning, he would have breakfast with her. Maybe he could talk her into staying at his place until they knew who was following her and why. Yeah, right, buddy, a cynical voice said.
You want the lady as close to your bed as possible.
So maybe he did, he admitted to himself. She felt something for him; he could see the longing in her eyes. She all but quivered at the slightest of his touches. And he really was concerned with her safety. He would bring his worries for her safety up again at breakfast, but the lady had a mind of her own.

What was disturbing her and holding her back? There was something going on in that pretty head of hers, some reason for the wall she was keeping between them. Before long he would have his answer. He intended to learn the truth about what was worrying her.

 

Promptly at eight the next morning, Pamela heard a motor and looked out to see a black pickup swing into the drive. A pickup during the day, a black sedan last night, a home in Pine Valley, one in Georgetown in Washington, one in Spain, the Black ranch here—while she rented a tiny apartment. Their lives were poles apart and she couldn't believe he was deeply interested in her. It seemed completely impossible.

As if unable to contain his energy, Aaron bounded out of the pickup and his long strides ate up the distance to the door. He was in boots, jeans and a plaid wool Western shirt and he looked like the other cowboys who lived around Royal. Only he wasn't like the other cowboys. In spite of his appearance and the West Texas drawl he could slip into so easily, she needed to remember that he led a far different life.

When he knocked on her door, she opened it and motioned to him to enter. She was too aware of his assessing gaze and the pleasure in his eyes as he took in her jeans and blue shirt. “Mornin', darlin',” he said quietly and stepped inside, bringing cold air in with him. “You look prettier than a prairie rose.”

“Thanks, Aaron. I almost overslept.”

“Wish I had been here to see you oversleeping,” he said with a devilish twinkle in his green eyes.

“Well, it's best you weren't,” she answered primly.

“Want to go back to catch a few winks?” he asked, swinging her up into his arms.

Startled, she yelped and put her arm around his neck. “No! Put me down, Aaron Black!”

“If you didn't get a good night's sleep, we can remedy that quickly.” He headed toward her bedroom. “Just leave it to me, and you'll sleep like a baby.”

“Don't you dare set foot in my bedroom. Put me down!” she said, laughing and knowing he was teasing as he headed toward her bedroom. He grinned and stopped.

“See—we can have a good time together.”

“I know we can,” she said, sobering, too aware how irresistible he was to her. She kept saying yes she would go out with him when she needed to avoid seeing him altogether. Yet he would be back in Spain so soon. She didn't really believe him about a leave of absence. And looking into his green eyes now while he held her in his arms, she tingled as he studied her in return.

“You handsome devil,” she whispered, unable to keep from flirting with him.

He slowly lowered her feet to the floor, holding her so she was pressed against him. “Good mornin',” he whispered, and leaned down to kiss her, his mouth opening hers, his tongue stirring instant fires and driving all thought of sleep away. His strong arms held her tightly and in seconds her breathing was as erratic as his, her heart thudding violently.

Finally she broke away, pushing against his chest. “Aaron—you promised to take me to eat.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said in a husky voice, his gaze going over her features, his hand stroking her throat. He leaned down to kiss her throat and push open her shirt slightly to trail kisses lower. “I'd like to eat you,” he whispered against her throat. “Kiss by slow kiss until you let go all that reserve.” His warm
fingers twisted free the top button of her shirt and he pushed it open, trailing kisses over the curve of her breast.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her body growing taut, trembling with wanting to just let go and step into his arms and make love with him. Instead she put her hands against his chest that was as solid and hard as the wall. She pushed slightly.

He straightened up to stare at her solemnly. “I will, too, Pamela. Maybe not this morning, but you're going to be mine. You're pushing against me and saying no, but your blue eyes and your kisses are telling me something else.”

“No, no!” She stepped back and buttoned her shirt. “Aaron, it's just impos—”

“Shh,” he said, placing his fingers on her lips and then trailing them featherlightly over her mouth, teasing her while he stopped her argument. “C'mon, we'll go eat. We have time.”

He helped her into her denim jacket, took her arm and they left to climb into his pickup. Dazed, all she could think was, no, they didn't have time. Time was against them. Definitely against them. They didn't have anything together.
You have a baby together,
a voice within her argued. She glanced at Aaron as he drove, looking at the angles and planes of his face, his prominent cheekbones and straight nose.

She should tell him about his baby. Yet she knew if she did, he would want to marry her because it was the right thing to do. Aaron Black was the kind of man honor bound to do his duty. She couldn't bear that. That night had meant something to him, too, but she couldn't believe it had really meant anything lasting or that she could begin to interest him like the other women he knew. Not even remotely. A second-grade teacher from Royal, Texas, being fascinating to an American diplomat stationed in Spain. Get real, Pamela, she told herself. She glanced at him and caught him studying the rearview mirror.

“Are we being followed again?”

“Nope. It's not easy to hide in Royal. In big-city traffic,
you can move into the flow of cars and get lost, but here, a tail sticks out like a heifer in a rose garden.”

“They have to be following you. There's no earthly reason to follow me.” His eyebrow arched, but he remained quiet and she wondered what was running through his mind. She realized how little she knew about him and suspected he could keep things to himself quite well. That arch of his brow indicated he hadn't agreed with her, but why would anyone follow her?

He turned to park in front of the Royal Diner and came around to hold the door open for her. “You're not wearing a coat. Don't you get cold?” she asked, pulling her denim jacket closer as a gust of wind hit them.

“Nope,” he said, draping his arm casually across her shoulders and drawing her close against his side. “I've got you here to keep me warm.”

She smiled at him and couldn't keep from liking his holding her close against him. She was five feet ten inches, tall for a woman, but Aaron was six feet four inches and he made her feel smaller and dainty, something she rarely experienced.

He swung open the diner door and the bell tinkled as they stepped into the warmth of the café. The windows were steamed, and smells of frying sausages and eggs and hot coffee assailed her. Before they reached a booth, Pamela knew she had made a mistake in accepting this date.

Too many mornings she couldn't keep anything down, but she'd thought if she ate lightly and was careful what she ate, she would be all right, and she had wanted to be with him one more time. But, as they slid into a booth and smells of frying foods assailed her, her stomach became queasy. She wouldn't be able to eat a bite, and what excuse could she give him?

“Something wrong?” he asked, and she flicked him a glance. Those damnable green eyes were searching her face, and she wished he couldn't read her so easily. No one else could, yet he seemed to see what was running in her mind and
guess what her feelings were intuitively, and that unnerved her, too.

“I'm all right,” she said, feeling worse by the minute. Why had she come? Why was he so darned irresistible to her? Sheila approached.

“Good morning, Aaron, Pamela,” she said, looking back and forth between them as if she couldn't believe her eyes. “What'll y'all have? Orange juice, coffee, tomato juice, something to start? Manny's cooking flapjacks and biscuits and gravy this morning.”

Aaron looked at Pamela and frowned slightly, bending his head to really study her. Her stomach was churning now. She shook her head slightly, unable to say a word. The thought of any food turned her stomach.

“Why don't you bring two orange juices and one coffee, Sheila,” Aaron said without taking his eyes from Pamela.

The moment the waitress was gone, Pamela knew she had to get out of the diner and away from the smells. She needed some cold air, too.

“Excuse me,” she said as she slid out of the booth and dashed for the door. Embarrassment and anger at herself for coming with him flooded her. She should have known better. Eight mornings out of ten she lost her breakfast. Why, oh why did she let him talk her into anything and everything? Her stomach heaved and she knew she was going to be sick, and if she lost it here in the diner—oh, horrors! The rumors that would start.

Rumors that would be true.

She was fumbling for the door when a long arm shot past her and opened it. She rushed outside, too aware Aaron was right beside her. She hurried away from the diner toward his pickup, grasping the door handle as she lost everything. Her stomach heaved, and embarrassment made her want to curl up and faint. If only she could!

He thrust a clean handkerchief under her nose.

“I'm sorry,” she said, unable to look at him.

“You should have told me if you didn't feel all right,” he
said. “Let me take you to a doctor. You might be getting the flu.” He felt her forehead and to her horror, she gagged again.

“Oh, Aaron, I'm sorry,” she said, wishing with all her being that she was a million miles away from here. Or that he was a million miles away. Why couldn't he have stayed in Spain!

“Stop apologizing for being sick. Happens to all of us. Want to sit in the truck?”

“Yes,” she said, thankful the windows of the diner were steamed up and had curtains, and that the street was almost deserted at eight in the morning so few people were witnessing her nausea.

He opened the door, picked her up and lifted her inside. “I can get in by myself,” she protested.

“You don't need to now,” he answered, closed the door and walked around the pickup to slide in on the other side. “Want the heater on?”

“No. The cold air feels better.”

He felt her forehead again. “You don't feel feverish, but several people in town have the flu. Doc Williams is my doctor, and I'm sure I can get you in to see him.”

“No! I don't need a doctor.”

“It won't hurt,” he said, starting the motor, and she panicked.

“No! This isn't anything unusual and it isn't the flu. I don't want to go see your doctor. I don't need to. Just take me home, Aaron.” The words burst from her because she knew how he took charge and did what he wanted.

“You've been sick before?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she said. “It passes. I don't need to see your doctor. I'd like to go home,” she said, talking fast. She wiped her brow and leaned back against the seat with her eyes closed. As her stomach began to settle, she became aware of the silence. She glanced at him to find him looking at her so intently that her breath caught.