hadn’t thought anyone would recognize the picture. “I think it looks like Eugene, Oregon,” she said, to throw him off the track.
“Could be. An alien could blend in real good with all those militant tree huggers they got over there in Eugene.” He shook his head and reached for her basket. “Sure could be Gospel, though.”
Hope was a fairly good actress when she put her mind to it, and she tried to appear as if she were giving his idea some serious thought. “Do you really think so?”
“Nah, but it’s fun to wonder who in this town might be an alien.”
She glanced up from the paper and smiled. “Maybe the woman who runs the Sandman Motel.”
“Ada Dover?” He laughed and rang up her oranges. “Could be you’re right. She is an odd one at that.”
“Yeah, kind of spooky.”
“Don’t you worry.” He patted her hand, then rang up her items. “I’ll protect you from aliens.”
“Thank you, Stanley,” she said and was still smiling when she left the M & S. She dropped off some film she’d shot of the mountains taken from her backyard, and drove into the self-serve Chevron. The pumps had yet to enter the new century, and after filling her car with gas, she had to go inside to pay with her debit card.
When she walked back outside, Dylan stood on the other side of the pumps, leaning against his dark blue truck, filling it with gas. His black T-shirt was tucked inside his black jeans, and his black Stetson was pulled low on his forehead. He looked like he’d stepped off the silver screen-an irresistible baddie-on a mission to wreak havoc and break the hearts of good women.
Her steps slowed and her heart ground to a halt. She couldn’t see his eyes for the shadow of his hat, but she could feel his gaze on her. Like always, it reached across the distance and touched her all over. As she approached her car, he straightened and a slow smile curved his mouth.
“Looks like someone wrapped you up in his hankie,” he said, his smooth voice pulling her to him like an invisible tractor beam, tempting her with the memory of his hands and mouth touching her.
She looked down at her dress and couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “Oh” was the only sound she was capable of uttering. She looked back up into his shadowy eyes and seductive smile, and like the coward she was, she ducked her head and dove into her car. She fired up the Porsche and sped off, leaving temptation in her dust.
She carried her bags into the house and put her groceries away. She wondered what Dylan thought of her now. Now that she’d behaved like a boob.
She didn’t have long to wait. She’d listened to only a few songs on her Dwight Yoakam CD when someone pounded on her door. She hit the stop button on her stereo, then opened the door, and there Dylan stood, over six feet of extremely irritated man. “What in the hell were you trying to prove?” he asked and stormed into the entry, bringing the scent of his aftershave with him. She looked behind him outside but didn’t see his truck.
“Where’s your truck?”
“You pulled out of the Chevron and nearly T-boned Alice Guthrie’s station wagon. She had her kids strapped in the back, and you could have seriously hurt someone.”
“That station wagon was a long way from the intersection.” She shut the door behind him and folded her arms beneath her breasts.
The light from the chandelier bounced prisms about the hall and across Dylan’s black T-shirt. Within the small confines, he seemed larger than life. A big, muscular he-man dressed in black. He placed his hands on his hips and studied her beneath the brim of his hat. “Why are you avoiding me?”
“I’m not.”
“Why won’t you answer your phone?”
“I’ve been working.”
“Uh-huh.”
He wasn’t buying it, so she decided to be honest. “I just don’t think we should see each other anymore.”
“Why the hell not?”
But not completely honest. “Because I just can’t have you coming over here whenever you want sex.”
His gaze narrowed. “You think that’s why I’m here?”
She didn’t know, but she was getting that out-of-control feeling again. The feeling like she was running toward a collision. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” He leaned toward her and said, “Maybe I wanted to see for myself if you were all right. Maybe you’re a sparkling conversationalist. Maybe I just like looking at you.” He leaned in a bit closer. “And maybe I just like spending time with you.”
Hope’s heart pounded in her chest.
“Maybe the reason I’m here has nothing to do with sex.”
“Really?”
“Maybe.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and raised her face to his. “Maybe I just want to kiss you. Maybe that’s all I want.” He turned his head slightly to the side and said against her lips, “Maybe I just miss the taste of you in my mouth.”
Her breath caught in her chest next to her pounding heart, and she couldn’t remember exactly why she should tell him to go. Well actually, she could remember, but at the moment, what might happen in the future didn’t matter so much. She was standing in the present, and it was filled with a tall, seductive cowboy whose touch set her on fire and made her want to run her hands up his chest and lean into him. “Would you like to come in?” she asked, although, technically, he was already inside.
“Maybe.” He opened his mouth over hers and soul-kissed her, deep down where nothing mattered but him. He was magic, spreading lightning through her body.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes. “Do you want me to come in?”
If she said yes, she would be saying yes to more than sparkling conversations. Was that what she wanted? To be with him for as long as it lasted, or to be alone and thinking about him? “Yes,” she said, as much to him as to herself. She turned before she could change her mind, and the thud of his boots echoed on the hardwood floor as he followed behind her. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asked over her shoulder, glancing back at him.
“No,” he said and slowly looked up from staring at her behind.
She had very little control over him and herself and the situation between them, and she was losing more with every beat of her pounding heart. But before losing completely, she said, “We have to set some ground rules.”
“Fine. I’ll call before I come over.” He reached for her hand and stopped her by the coffee table. “But you have to answer your phone.”
“I will, but you have to…” She paused as he raised her palm to his mouth and his warm breath tickled her wrist.
“I have to what, honey?” he asked, but the expression in the green eyes looking down into hers told her he knew. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, and he was enjoying himself.
“Uhh… call first.”
“I just said I would.” He kissed the little tickles on her wrist and sent them up her arm.
“Oh.”
“What other rules did you have in mind?”
With him staring at her as if he were about to eat her up, she couldn’t think. She removed her gaze from his and looked into the dining room at the FBI report sitting on the table. “I’m not into anything dirty,” she said, which she supposed was true, as far as she knew.
A frown furrowed his brow, and he dropped her hand. “Okay.” He took off his hat and tossed it on the couch. “Before we go any further, define dirty.”
“Kinky.”
“You better define kinky.”
She thought for a moment. “No whips.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know you won’t like whips?”
