you for taking me there.” Then, surprising him, she reached up, locked her arms behind his neck and tugged him down as she raised up on tiptoe. He could’ve easily set her aside. Instead, he met her halfway and accepted her final gesture of appreciation. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot. When she tightened her hold on him, he did the same, pulling her body next to his, wrapping his arms around her, sliding his hands down to cup her rear.
Then Abel jumped up on him from behind and her cell phone rang at the same time, a double jolt of awareness to the situation they’d been about to put themselves in.
“I’d better answer that,” she said, stepping back to dig into her pocket, her hands shaking. “Someone’s probably worried.”
He backed off as she took the call, telling the person on the other end that she was on her way home. Then she tucked her phone away. He had no idea what to say, so he left it to her because his next move would be to haul her to bed.
“I should go,” she said. She climbed into her car and started the engine. Her smile turned mischievous, the dull glaze in her eyes replaced with more clarity. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t a good kisser,” she said pertly, then she gave him an indecipherable look through the windshield as she backed up to turn around. She waved as she drove off.
His body was like granite. He hadn’t been this on edge for a long time. He was usually the one with the last word, too. She’d caught him off guard. That was also rare.
Maybe he’d helped her with her post-tornado trauma, but she’d given him something to dream about.
It was the last thing he wanted.
Red Rock’s most upscale restaurant, Red, was situated in the heart of downtown. Wendy’s husband, Marcos Mendoza, managed the restaurant that was owned by his aunt and uncle. It was where Marcos and Wendy had met. She’d been exiled, as she referred to it, from the family business in Atlanta and sent to Red Rock to work for one of the Fortune businesses to discover her talent. She eventually ended up at Red, first as a waitress, then finding her calling as a dessert chef.
The original building was a converted, very old hacienda rumored to have belonged to relatives of the infamous General Santa Anna. It had been rebuilt after a fire but still featured an inside courtyard with a water fountain and several dining areas, both public and private.
Stepping into the main dining room, Victoria admired the rich, colorful decor and peaceful aura. Wendy had urged her and Emily to get out of the house for a while, and Marcos had insisted they have a spectacular dessert on him at Red. They’d argued it was unnecessary, but Wendy had prevailed. She couldn’t take MaryAnne out in public for at least two more weeks, according to the pediatrician. She would go to bed when the baby did, and she wanted Emily and Victoria to have some fun.
They sat at the bar, where they had a good view of the restaurant that was a little too understated to be called a “fun” spot. It was a place to gather or go on a date, but not a mix-and-mingle hot spot, nor was there a dance floor in the main room.
“So,” Emily said after taking a taste of a creamy dessert called Heavenly Sin and licking her spoon clean. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back from seeing Garrett Stone.”
Victoria took a bite of a black-and-white pudding that melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring it before she spoke. “There’s not much to say. I thanked him. He decided I needed to see the airport and took me there, as some kind of therapy, I expect.”
“Was he right? Did it help?”
“I suppose I’ll find out tonight. If the dream doesn’t return, I’ll call it a success.”
“And was the cowboy rough around the edges or gorgeous?”
“Both.”
Emily’s brows went up. “Do tell.”
“He’s different” was all she said.
He came across as a man who didn’t rile easily, was in fact paternal and protective, but he also simmered with passion. He just kept a tight rein on it. She could tell when he’d been restraining himself.
That kind of self-control, Victoria thought, was even sexier. And it made her want to break through it.
She dipped her spoon into the pudding again just as the cowboy in question took a seat at the bar, not close enough to talk to, but close enough to exchange glances. The bartender drew a draft and set it in front of Garrett without any words being spoken. He lifted his glass toward Victoria, took a sip and looked away.
“You’re blushing,” Emily said then looked around, her gaze landing on Garrett, who steadfastly stared at the wall of bottles behind the bartender. “Is that him?” Emily whispered.
“Who?”
Emily gave her a tolerant look. “Your therapist.”
“Yes. And don’t you dare put him on your Baby Plan list.”
Emily turned again and caught him studying them. “He’d make great babies, don’t you think? Tall and lean, and those ooh-la-la blue eyes.”
“Off-limits,” Victoria said, feeling her face heat up even more. “Anyway, I thought you were looking to adopt. At least that was your plan a week ago.”
“That was originally my goal, but looking at Cowboy Freud here, I don’t know….” She grinned. “Don’t fret, Vicki. I can see you’ve got the hots for him. I won’t unleash my considerable charms on your man.”
“He’s not my man.” She scraped her bowl for the last taste of pudding.
“Yet.”
“I’ll be going home in a couple of days.”
“I didn’t hear you say you weren’t attracted.”
Victoria shrugged. Attracted? What a mild word …
Garrett stood then and moved to sit next to Emily. They made a beautiful couple. She was several inches taller than Victoria. Her blond hair was more golden than his darker blond, but they fit together.
So much for his being a loner. She tried to remember why she’d labeled him that in her mind.
“Evenin’, Ms. Fortune,” he said, looking at Victoria.
“Hello, Mr. Stone.” The fact they’d shared a passionate kiss and were being so formal with each other made her heart beat faster, as if she was hiding something, when usually her life was an open book. She introduced him to her cousin.
“You following me?” he asked Victoria over the rim of his glass.
She arched her brows. “I believe we were sitting right here when you arrived,” she said, pointing out the obvious, not appreciating Emily’s curious and rather amused expression.
“Everyone knows I’m here every Sunday night ‘round this time.”
“I’m new in town. No one thought to add me to the Garrett Stone Sunday Routine loop.”
Marcos came up to them and shook Garrett’s hand,
