things went from bad to worse.
The front door opened and Xavier Shillingsworth sauntered in.
* * *
HOW MUCH MORE was Emily supposed to have to take? Dylan wondered.
“Hi, Emily. Dylan—” Xavier paused dramatically. Furrowing his brow, he asked snidely, “—don’t you ever work?”
Dylan refused to pick up the gauntlet. “You’re not worth the effort, kid.”
Disappointed, but no less smug, Xavier turned back to Emily. “Andrew’s under sixteen so he’s going to need a work permit. His mother will have to fill the papers out and get them approved by the Texas Workforce Commission, before he can start.”
Emily continued wiping down tables. “They’ve already left for the day.”
Shillingsworth followed her, further invading her space. “Maybe you could give the papers to them for me, then?”
Whatever pity he’d felt for the kid the previous evening vanished. Dylan stepped forward. “You know Andrew was working here?”
Shillingsworth lifted an autocratic brow. “Yes. He told me that.”
Dylan studied him. “And you’ve got no compunction about trying to hire him away from Emily?”
“It’s business. I’ll hire anyone I want who wants a job. Even, say—” Xavier gestured lazily “—Emily...”
Oh, Dylan thought. Them’s fightin’ words.
Emily, on the other hand, stepped forward, fire in her gaze. “Well, kind as that is of you, Xavier,” she drawled, “I really can’t see that happening. Because I actually like to cook the food—from scratch—not just take off the plastic wrap and heat it in the microwave.”
Dylan threw back his head and laughed. Having had more than enough, he slapped Xavier on the shoulder and steered him in the direction of the exit. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “Looks like you’re outmatched and outclassed, kid. So you best be on your way.”
Xavier stepped sideways instead. “First of all, you’d be surprised how good our stuff is.” He squared off, indignant. “And second, Emily has not asked me to leave. So...”
Emily set her chin. “I’m asking you to leave.”
Xavier looked at Emily, ready to continue to push the issue. Emily remained unmoved and Dylan lifted a warning brow.
The restaurateur suddenly changed his mind and headed slowly for the exit. “My offer of a date is good anytime, Emily. ’Cause I still want a cougar for my trophy case.” The kid turned around and winked. “If you know what I mean.”
Emily’s glance narrowed. “Goodbye, Xavier.”
Reluctantly, he sauntered out, slamming the door after him.
Emily turned to Dylan. Instead of complimenting him on the great restraint he had shown, in not booting the kid out by the seat of the pants practically the second the interloper walked in, Emily glared at him. “You do not have to run interference between the two of us. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”
Dylan was willing to be amenable, but only to a point. “Suppose I want to defend you. Me being your pretend boyfriend and all. What then?”
He had no idea what Emily was going to say. He didn’t want to know, either. All he wanted, at that moment, was to stake his claim in a way neither of them would ever forget.
He wound an arm around her waist and used the leverage to pull her intimately against him. He heard her soft gasp of surprise—and delight—as he threaded his hand through her hair and tilted her face up to his.
The first contact was soft and tender. Their lips fused together. And yet there was no surrender.
It didn’t matter.
Dylan had met with resistance before.
He knew gentleness and patience worked wonders.
As did a full-on kiss filled with passion and need.
He utilized both, grazing the shell of her ear, touching his mouth to her throat, the underside of her chin, her cheek, the tip of her nose, before moving once again to her lips.
And this time, when he fit his lips to hers in a soft, sure kiss, she was ready for him. Drawing him closer, she tangled her tongue with his....
The lines were blurring, Emily thought, as Dylan flattened a hand down her spine, pressing her body into his. Confusing her as to what was real and what wasn’t...what was possible and what was not...
It didn’t matter how hot and hard he was...or that she was the reason for it. It didn’t matter that his embrace was magic, or that this fleeting embrace had her experiencing more pleasure than she ever had in her life.
What mattered was that they weren’t in love.
Couldn’t be.
Wouldn’t be.
So even if it felt like something more, Emily told herself it wasn’t.
Shaken, she broke off the kiss and pushed away. “This can’t continue,” she managed, drawing a jerky breath.
Not without some sort of promise that their relationship would one day be as real and true as the physical passion they felt.
Sadly, no matter how much he lusted after her, she couldn’t see Dylan agreeing to that.
* * *
“I WASN’T SURE you’d show up,” Dylan remarked when Emily got out of the car several hours later.
She had known he had figured no affair meant no working together, but she hadn’t bothered to correct his misimpression at the time. “Then you must know even less about me than you think,” Emily replied.
Dylan laughed and favored her with his sexy, oh-so-male presence and what-I’d-really-like-to-do-to-you golden-brown eyes.
She drew a conciliatory breath. “When I want to do something, I do it.”
Dylan prodded devilishly. “And right now...?”
Emily settled her hat on her head. “I want to see you start Ginger’s training.”
Seeming pleased at that, Dylan dipped his head in a gallant bow and showed her the way. “Then let’s get to it.”
The horses Dylan was working with were housed in a maze of corrals and pastures, all feeding into a central alley. Salt and Pepper were in an adjacent paddock, grazing sedately. Ginger was by herself in another.
Dylan lifted the latch. Ginger took the opening he gave her and bolted down the aisleway. She took the first available exit and landed in a high-walled round pen. Dylan stepped in after her, closing the gate. Emily climbed onto the riser, above the pen, to watch.
