he turned around and impaled her with those cerulean-blue eyes of his.
Air fled from her lungs and her throat closed up. A perfectly tailored blue-gray suit emphasized the width of his shoulders, while his white shirt and pale blue tie emphasized the California tan that warmed his skin. Her mouth dried. It was a crime against nature that any man could look so beautiful and so masculine at the same time.
A hank of softly curling hair fell across his high forehead, making her hand itch to smooth it back, then trace the stubbled line of his jaw. She clenched her fingers into a tight fist, embedding her nails in her palms as she reminded herself exactly where such an action would inevitably lead.
He was like a drug to her. An instant high that, once taken, created a craving like no other. She’d spent the past two and a half months in a state of disbelief at her actions. She, who’d strived to be so careful—to keep her nose clean and to fly under the radar—was now carrying the child of a man she’d met the day it was conceived. A man she’d barely known, yet knew so much about. Certainly enough not to have succumbed the way she had.
It had literally been a one-night stand, she reminded herself cynically. The coat closet hadn’t allowed for anything else. But as close as the confines had been, her body still remembered every second of how he’d made her feel—and it reacted in kind again.
“Jenna,” Dylan said with a slow nod of his head, his gaze not moving from her face for so much as a second.
“Dylan,” she replied, taking a deep breath and feigning surprise. “What brings you back to Cheyenne?”
The instant she said the words she silently groaned. The opening. Of course he was here for that. The local chamber of commerce—heck, the whole town—was abuzz with the news. She’d tried to ignore anything Lassiter-related for weeks now, but there was no ignoring the man in front of her.
The father of her unborn child.
A noise from the back of the store made both of them turn around. Oh, thank God. Millie had finally deigned to show up and do her job.
“Ah,” Jenna said, fighting to hide her relief. “Here’s Millie. She’ll be able to assist you with any requirements you might have. Millie, this is Mr. Lassiter, he’s opening the Lassiter Grill in town. Please make sure you give him our best service.”
She sent Dylan a distracted smile and turned to go, only to feel him snag her wrist with warm strong fingers. Fingers that had done unmentionably wicked things to her and whose touch now sent a spiral of need to clench deep inside her.
“Not so fast,” Dylan said, spinning her gently back to face him again. “As capable as I’m sure Millie is,” he continued, flashing a smile that had the impressionable teen virtually melting on the spot, “I’d prefer to deal with you directly.”
“I’m sure you would,” Jenna answered as quellingly as she could. “But Millie is available to help you with your inquiry. I am not.”
Her heart rate skipped up a beat as a hint of annoyance dulled his eyes.
“Scared, Jenna?”
His low tones were laced with challenge. Jenna stiffened her spine.
“Not at all, just very busy.”
“Not too busy, I’m sure, to catch up with an old friend.”
Hot color stained her cheeks. They weren’t anything near approaching friends. She barely knew him any better now than she had the day they’d met—the day they were so drawn to one another that flirtation had turned to touching, and touching had turned to impassioned, frenzied lovemaking in the nearest available private space.
A butterfly whisper of movement rippled across her lower belly, shocking her into gasping aloud. Of course—the moment she’d been awaiting for weeks, her baby’s first perceptible motion, would have to happen with its father standing right here in front of her.
Dylan’s fingers tightened on her wrist. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said hurriedly. “Just very busy.”
“Then I’ll only take a few minutes of your time.” He gave her a searching look. “Your office?”
Her body wilted in defeat. “Through here.”
He released her wrist and she felt the cool air of the showroom swirl around her sensitized skin, as if her body instantly mourned the loss of contact, his touch. She found herself rubbing at the spot where he’d held her, as if she could somehow rub away the invisible imprint he’d left upon her.
Stop being ridiculous, she growled silently. He was nothing to you before, aside from an out of character dalliance, and he’s nothing to you now. Logically she knew she couldn’t avoid him forever. Despite the fact he was based in L.A., with the new restaurant opening here in town they were bound to cross paths again sometime. It might as well be now.
The tiny fluttering sensation rippled through her belly again, reminding her that there was a great deal more to consider than just her own feelings about seeing Dylan Lassiter. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed that her petite frame carried a new softness about it now. That her figure, rather than being taut and flat, was gently rounded as the baby’s presence had suddenly become more visible at thirteen weeks.
She hadn’t shared news of her pregnancy with anyone yet, and had no plans to start right now. Instead, she’d sought to hide it by changing from her usual style of figure-hugging attire to longer, more flowing lines.
As they entered the tiny office she used for administration, she gestured to the chair opposite her desk and sank, gratefully, into her own on the other side. Instead of taking the seat offered to him, Dylan sat on the edge of her desk. She couldn’t help but notice the way the fine wool of his trousers skimmed his long powerful thighs, or how the fabric now stretched across his groin.
Her mouth suddenly felt parched and she turned to reach for the water jug and glasses that she kept on a credenza behind her desk.
“Water?” she offered with a croak.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
She hastily splashed a measure of clear liquid into a glass for herself and lifted it to her lips, relishing the cooling and hydrating sensation as the drink slid over her tongue. After putting the glass down on the desk, she pulled a pad toward her and picked up a pen.
“So,” she said, looking up at him. “What is it you want?”
He reached out and took the pen from her hand, laying it very deliberately down on the notepad. “I thought we could talk. You know, reminisce about old times.”
Heat pooled at the apex of her thighs and she pushed her chair back from her desk. Anything to increase the distance between them.
“Look, you said a few minutes, and frankly, that’s all I had. Your time’s up. If there’s nothing business related you need to discuss...?” She hesitated a moment, her temper snapping now at the humor reflected in his eyes. “Then you’ll have to excuse me so I can attend to my work.”
Dylan’s sinfully sensuous lips curved into a half smile. “You’re different, Jenna. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’ll figure
