“One. That leaves nineteen to go.”
She caught her breath at the thought of nineteen more of those kisses. “I can’t hold my breath that long.”
“We’ll take short breaks,” he assured her.
Their eyes met in a duel of laughter and desire. He was a man to steal a maiden’s heart, she acknowledged. Longing flowed through her like wind through a willow.
“Is Randall coming home this week?” the aunt interrupted.
“Uh, no. Not that I know of.”
Silver eyes narrowed on her. “Who’s Randall?” Jon asked, ignoring her aunt and uncle, both of whom listened in on the conversation with blatant interest.
“The senator from our district,” Anne replied. “He’s in Austin while the state legislature is in session.”
“Oh, a politician.”
With these words and a casual shrug, the senator was dismissed as being unimportant in her life. “Yes. We see each other.” She waited for Jon’s reaction to this statement.
“As in exclusively?” he demanded, his gaze spearing into hers, thrilling her with his quick concern.
“Really,” Aunt Marge said indignantly. “It’s hardly any of your business.”
He shoved his hat off his forehead, stuck his hands in his rear pockets and rocked back on his heels. A posture he assumed when he was considering things, Anne decided, remembering his doing the same at her house.
The action pulled his jeans snug across his lean hips. She recalled the feel of his hard body against hers when she’d fallen against him at the kissing booth. He’d been aroused.
Heat surged through her in tiny star bursts of reaction to his masculine stance. She was attracted to him…in a way she’d never been to Randall. Her heart had never gone out of control when the handsome politician kissed her. It was worrisome.
Did she dare take Jon Sinclair on as an opponent? He’d made it clear he was looking for adventure. Was she? One mad adventure before eternity closed over her?
“Would you care to join us?” he asked her aunt and uncle. “I’ll be glad to get you a hot dog or whatever you like.”
A polite maverick. She gave him a smile of approval.
“We’ve had lunch, but a tall, cool lemonade would taste real good right now,” the uncle spoke up.
Jon noted the mayor’s Texas drawl had thickened a bit. When he glanced that way, the mayor smiled. Jon thought he saw an imp of mischief in Joe’s dark brown eyes. Uncle and niece shared the same sense of humor.
“Yes, that would be nice,” Marge said, her gaze darting from Anne to him. “I’ll help you get them.”
Jon raised one eyebrow but followed along at the woman’s heels as she led the way across the lawn. As soon as they were out of hearing of the other two, she turned on him in squinty-eyed disapproval.
“Anne has a heart condition,” she told him in a low, intense tone. “She mustn’t be upset in any way.”
This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. He glanced over his shoulder. Anne looked the picture of health to him—pink cheeks, clear eyes, a smiling mouth, a firm, luscious body. His heart kicked up at the thought…as well as other parts.
Was this warning some kind of ploy on the aunt’s part? She didn’t exactly keep it a secret that she favored the senator as the companion of choice for her niece. But that was for Anne to decide. She was a mature adult.
He spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “I wouldn’t think of upsetting Anne.”
“This isn’t funny, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I’m not laughing.” He leveled a steady gaze on her as the old rebellious spirit stirred in him. Being told not to do something had always set him on a direct path for it. Of course, rebellion sometimes led to disaster.
“Just what are your intentions toward my niece?” the older woman demanded, stopping in the shade of the oak tree and out of sight of the other two.
He gave her a cool glance. “I think that’s between Anne and me. She is of age, isn’t she?”
“She’s twenty-five. And a virgin.”
“I’m thirty-one. And I’m not.”
Ignoring her indignant gasp, he headed for the lemonade stand and ordered four drinks. The gorgon gave him the silent treatment on the return trip. Which was okay by him.
Anne glanced from one expressionless face to the other. She sighed dramatically. “My aunt give you the medical diagnosis?”
“Yes,” Jon admitted, looking her over.
“Still planning to seduce me?” she asked, mostly out of curiosity. Men fled when they found out she might turn into a liability rather than a lover.
“Anne!” her aunt admonished.
“Yes,” Jon said, meeting her eyes. He grinned.
Anne placed a final spray of greenery in a bouquet of yellow and pink roses, then stepped back and eyed the arrangement. She nodded in satisfaction at its loveliness.
Doc Adamson had ordered an impressive array of flowers for his cousin’s thirty-ninth birthday. Ellen Adamson had directed his office and business affairs for the past two years with cheerful efficiency, but this was the first time he’d sent her flowers. Perhaps this signified a change in their relationship.
For a tenth of a second, Anne was wistful, then she pushed aside the feeling. If she ever married, it would be to a man like Randall, someone who wouldn’t expect too much from her.
Her aunt and uncle liked him and had encouraged their dating. Randall had hinted several times of late that he wanted to ask for more from her, but she’d managed to evade the final question. She wasn’t quite ready to commit herself.…
A restlessness stirred in her, a longing for something more. Excitement. Danger. Romance. Oh, sure.
She shouldn’t expect fireworks, rainbows and all that. She knew wild romance was only in books and movies. Still, she wondered about it sometimes. A startling thought came to her—Jon Sinclair could give her all those.
But then, what about commitment and mutual respect and common goals? Excitement and danger were childish fantasies. And wild romance was not lasting devotion. Randall was a much better choice. If she ever decided to marry.
Another wild idea intruded. Wasn’t a person entitled to one mad fling before settling down to marital and family bliss and responsibility?
She was shocked at the errant ways of her mind. She had always been the soul of respectability. After all, Randall had two sons—one in his first year of college and one a junior in high school who still lived at home. She liked the boys and would be a model parent
