routine had been disrupted by visions of the woman sleeping down the hall. Just the thought of touching Paris again, going further, going all the way, kept him from focusing on the state of the global markets. But he had to remember the annulment terms—no sex in the real sense.
If he had any hope of maintaining his sanity for the next twelve months, he had two options—take care of the problem himself, or convince Paris they should take care of each other, even if it meant not fully consummating the marriage. He liked the second plan best. Taking it slow seemed to be the only way to accomplish that goal, even though it would damn sure prove to be real hard. Literally. Now if he’d been a dishonorable jerk, he would’ve crawled into bed with her last night to solve the problem, knowing he’d had her exactly where he’d wanted her before he left her on the dock.
The problem only grew more obvious when Paris padded into the room on bare feet, wearing some short flimsy peach-colored robe, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail. On one hand, she was about as cute as a newborn foal. On the other, she looked sexy as hell, even with her face free of makeup.
She sauntered over to the counter, poured herself a cup of coffee, then turned a sleepy smile on him. “Happy birthday and good morning, handsome husband.”
She looked like a birthday gift he wanted to thoroughly investigate. “Mornin’, pretty wife.” He’d never dreamed those words would ever leave his mouth. But then he’d never imagined meeting anyone like her, either. He liked the way she moved. The way she talked. Her intelligence. Her body. And he knew he would seriously like the way she loved if she gave him the chance to partake of all the benefits that most married couples enjoyed.
Wait a minute. For all intents and purposes, they’d entered into a fabricated union. They weren’t playing house, they were doing business. If it was up to her, that’s all they’d ever be doing.
Maybe not, he decided, when she sauntered over to the island, sat on the barstool across from him and didn’t bother to close the opening of the robe, allowing him a nice view of the curve of her breasts. “Sleep well?”
Not hardly. “Fairly well. And you?”
“You mean after you left me alone topless on the dock? I’ve had better nights.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, although he really wasn’t all that sorry, except maybe about the leaving part.
She then leaned completely across the granite surface to study the newspaper in front him, causing the robe to gape more and giving him full view of her bare breasts, nipples and all. “Wall Street Journal, huh? I expected you to be reading some ranching magazine.”
He expected to elevate the island at any moment. “I’ve been interested in financial news since I acquired my MBA.”
Her green eyes went wide as she sat back down, taking his fun away but giving him some moderate relief. “I had no idea you have a graduate degree. Where did you go to school?”
He couldn’t resist rattling her chain a little. “Got it online from the University of Dumb Cowpokes.”
She laughed softly as she rimmed a fingertip around the coffee cup, drawing Dallas’s undivided attention. “Be serious for a change.”
He had a serious need to see what else she might be wearing underneath that robe. Or what she wasn’t wearing. “I got the undergraduate degree at a small college in Stephenville, Texas, while on a rodeo scholarship. A few years later, when I decided to open the saddle shops, I decided to go for the masters at a bigger university in Fort Worth.”
“Impressive. Why saddle shops?”
Recounting his history could calm his rowdy libido. “When I was growing up, a ranch hand named Gordy taught me how to tool roping saddles. I used his design, started my own line of saddles and began to market it.”
“Gordy doesn’t have a problem with that?”
“Nope. He’s happily retired living off the royalties.”
“You are a man of many talents, I must say. Do you have any sugar?”
Ignoring the urge to tell her he could give her something really sweet, Dallas nodded toward the cabinet behind her. “Right next to the coffee maker.”
She glanced over one shoulder before sending him another smile. “Oh. I didn’t see it,” she said as she slid out of her chair.
She sure had great legs, he realized, when she walked to the counter to sweeten her coffee. The robe was so short that if she lifted her arms, he felt sure he could see her bottom. He should’ve told her the canister was in an upper cabinet. He’d give a month’s worth of pay to find some excuse for her to bend over. He didn’t have to let go of a dime when she dropped the spoon on the floor and reached down to pick it up.
Damn if she didn’t have on a thing. Damn if she didn’t have one fantastic butt. And damn if he didn’t have the mother of all erections.
She turned around and leaned back against the counter. “What are your plans for the day?”
He could offer up a few that involved staying horizontal for the next twenty-four hours, but remembered his aim to take it easy. “I thought we’d go fishing.”
She sipped her coffee then set the cup aside. “Sounds like fun. When do you want to do it?”
Right now on the kitchen island. “We need to get going before it gets much later, while the fish are still biting.”
“Then I should hurry. What should I wear?”
Not a damn thing. “T-shirt and jeans, I guess. Or shorts. It’s going to be close to eighty degrees today.”
While Dallas sat there suffering from lack of sex, Paris rinsed her cup out in the sink and put it in the dishwasher, unaware of his predicament. “I’ll take a quick shower and be back in a few. Where should I meet you once I’m finished?”
In my bed. Your bed. Any bed. “The dock.”
“The dock it is. Maybe I’ll just show up without my top to save time.”
Taking Dallas totally by surprise, Paris untied the sash at her waist, turned around and let the robe fall from her shoulders onto the floor as she walked away.
The image of her slender back and shapely butt remained burned in his brain long after she disappeared.
Was she just trying to torture him, or give him a taste of his own medicine? He didn’t know the answer, but he sure as hell intended to find out.
* * *
Paris wondered what effect, if any, her little attempt at seduction had had on Dallas. If he only knew how difficult it had been to completely let go of her inhibitions, then maybe he might have said something. When she’d left him in the kitchen, she hadn’t had the fortitude to wait around. He certainly hadn’t sought her out in the shower, or showed up at the bedroom door. Only time would tell what he might have in store for her during their little excursion, and the closer she came to the dock, the more the excitement escalated.
She discovered him waiting for her, dressed in khaki cargo shorts and a sleeveless army-green tank, revealing a pair of very masculine legs and muscled biceps
