have to exercise restraint whenever they were alone together and make it clear that she wasn’t interested. If the little voice in her head suggested that this man would be different, she wouldn’t listen.
She had a weakness for creative men. But after four failed relationships with artistic guys, she’d finally admitted that she didn’t belong with that type no matter how much they intrigued her. Some fatal flaw always turned up and doomed what had started out as something wonderful and promising. She was through taking chances.
After locking up, she drove her purple truck over to Scruffy’s, a bar known for good food and live country music. The smell of barbecue made her mouth water as she climbed out of her pickup, tucked her keys in the pocket of her skirt and started for the door. The parking lot was full, as always, so at least they’d have plenty of chaperones.
“Hey, there.” Grady walked toward her from the other side of the lot.
“Hi.” She paused, captured by the sheer beauty of him. Ignoring that for the next few days would be impossible. The waistband of his Wranglers sat easy on his lean hips and his yoked Western shirt emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. She imagined sliding her palms up the soft material and feeling his muscles bunch beneath her hands. His wavy brown hair, worn collar length, would feel like silk between her fingers.
His smile brought her attention to his mouth. She could write an essay on the sensual contours of those sculpted lips. Men like Grady had usually perfected the fine art of kissing. His lips would be like velvet as they—
“Ready to go in?”
Great. She’d been caught ogling. She cleared her throat. “I thought you’d already be inside.”
“I waited for you.”
“Thanks.” She risked looking into his brown eyes and her heart began to pound. Even shadowed by the brim of his hat, his gaze was hot. When a man looked at her that way, he had more than dinner on his mind—but she should talk after the way she’d checked him out.
The evening was taking on a familiar pattern. First they’d share a cozy booth and enjoy a meal along with some beer, which would loosen her inhibitions. Scruffy’s casual atmosphere made it a great place for shedding inhibitions, especially on the dance floor. She could hear the music from here and it got louder every time someone went in or came out. Grady would ask her to dance to a slow tune and they’d rub against each other until they were both ready to combust.
After that she’d suggest heading to the little house she rented with her sister, who was conveniently out of town. They’d spend most of the night having amazing sex and the game would be on. She’d vowed never to take that path again with an art-making man.
Accepting his dinner invitation had been a bad idea. Yet changing the plan now would be a delicate operation. She hoped the excuse she was about to give him would do the trick. “You know, I hate to do this, but on the drive over I continued to think about all the paperwork I have waiting at home. Dinner would be lovely, but I really need to take a rain check.”
“I see.” He nudged back his hat, which allowed the light from the building to illuminate his square-jawed perfection.
“I’m really sorry, Grady. Organizing the event put me behind.” True enough, but he didn’t seem to be buying it.
He gestured toward a spot away from the entrance and out of the glare of the lights. “Let’s step over there for a minute, where it’s not so loud.”
“All right.” She followed him into the shadows.
He paused and faced her, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Sexy stance. “Sapphire, I’m interested in you and I get the impression you’re interested in me. But if there’s another guy, just say so. These things happen.”
“There isn’t anyone.” Not for lack of trying to find a nonartist whose company she enjoyed. She’d dated an insurance adjuster, a dentist and a systems engineer. She hadn’t clicked with any of them.
“Then why not have dinner with me?” He moved a little closer as his gaze held hers and a smile brought her attention back to his tempting mouth. “You have to eat sometime.”
“I know, but...let’s be honest.” She took a deep breath. “It’s not just about dinner, is it?”
His eyebrows lifted. “You want dessert, too? I dunno, Sapphire. That might stretch my budget.” His grin faded. “No, you’re right. It’s not just about dinner, but if you don’t have a boyfriend, what’s the problem? Am I wrong that you kind of like me?”
“You’re not wrong.” God, he was potent. Being near him fried her brain cells right when she needed to be alert. “But it’d be better if we just leave it at that.”
“Why?”
“What if it didn’t work out? That could make this week very awkward.”
He smiled and drew closer still. “If that’s all you’re worried about, there’s no problem. It’ll work out.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.” Too bad she found that hot as hell.
“Normally, I’m not, but this time I have my reasons. We’ve had chemistry from the minute we laid eyes on each other three weeks ago. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Heat sluiced through her. “Sorry. I’ll stop doing that.”
“Please don’t stop on my account. I look at you the same way. Finding you at the Art Barn that day was a revelation. From what I can tell, you’ve allowed your true self to shine through and that turns me on. You make the sexiest pottery I’ve ever seen.”
She laughed because he was the first person to say it out loud. No one else had dared. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Holding it is quite an experience. I picture the way your hands molded each piece and I—”
“Um, right.” If she let him go on in this vein, they’d never make it back to her house. They’d end up doing it in the back of a pickup, either hers or his. She’d thought their mutual attraction would be manageable. She’d never been so wrong.
“Lady, you and I generate a lot of heat. You can head home to catch up on paperwork but that’s not going to change anything.”
“Maybe not.” She shoved her hands in her pockets and clutched her keys as a reminder that she was leaving. Just because he thought her surrender was inevitable, didn’t mean he was right. But she could feel that heat he was talking about melting her resistance. “I need to go.” She started to turn away.
“Hang on for a second.” He lightly touched her arm.
The contact sent fire through her veins. “What for?” She turned back to him and saw the intent before he spoke the words.
“A kiss.”
“No, that would be—”
“Only fair. I’ve been imagining kissing you ever since I drove away three weeks ago. If you don’t want to take it beyond that point, I’ll abide by that decision.” He smiled. “What’s one little kiss?”
A
