Give Me A Texan

than actually was there? Briar frowned, trying to douse the fire of want that flamed any time she drew near. He needed some sort of distraction. Anything to cool his thoughts. A joke. Say something funny. She appreciates a quick wit. “A vegetarian diet, in the cattle capital of the country, and this from the woman who wolfed down a side of roast beef last night?”

She giggled, her eyes lit with challenge. “A sassy tongue ye have on ye, Briar Duncan, and I have a taste for many things.”

God in heaven, help him! Taste and tongue. Words that sent seductive images coursing from his mind to ignite all points less rationally motivated. Her hair curled so wild and free around her cheeks, he could do nothing but reach out to caress one blond silken strand. The air between them grew thick and electric, as expectant as right before a thunderstorm. The world around Briar faded as if nothing but he and she existed, and time ceased to move. Briar could barely form the words as his heart pounded in his throat, his voice deep and low, “I want only one thing right now, and that’s a taste of you.”

Push me away, he pleaded, but her eyes softly shut and Mina leaned closer. He pulled her to him and covered her lips with his. Her mouth opened invitingly as her arms went around him, pressing her length against his. He needed no further encouragement and his tongue slid lazily between her lips to taste deeply of her. A low moan dissolved against his mouth, the kiss becoming ravenous, rough and wanton. Their rapid breaths soughed together as the attraction that had consumed him heated into exquisite pleasure.

“Open yer eyes,” she whispered against his lips. “I want ye to know who this is ye’re kissing.”

Briar’s eyes sprang open in direct challenge, the moment threatening to subside into the reality of the woman in his arms being a stranger only yesterday. Her slow lazy smile held no hint of reprimand but something more of an askance, a need to be desired; she wanted to be kissed for herself and not as a stand-in for Katie. “God help me”-he flicked her earlobe with his tongue, pressing hot, urgent kisses against her neck-“why did you let me kiss you?”

“Because I damned well wanted to be kissed, and by ye.”

Her throaty groan vibrated against his lips, sending them urgently to reclaim the treasure she offered. He combed his fingers through her hair, loving the way it felt silky and smooth as it slid between them. Drifting over her shoulders, his fingers caressed the vee of ribs that slimmed to a sensual swell of hips. He gently slid one hand beneath her tunic to palm a warm, soft globe that peaked exquisitely against the thin material that felt like nothing more than butterfly wings. Her groan became a soft gasp of yearning, a sound so feminine he wanted only to tame, yet protect it in the same instant.

“W-What’s this?” he wondered aloud at the sound of a loud rip that startled him from his revelry. She was not wearing a corset but some strange contraption to cover her breasts, now rendered beyond repair by the impulsiveness of his passion. He raised the triangular patches of cotton netting and the ribbon that held them together. “I’ve torn your undergarment.”

What should I call it? Briar wondered, never having seen anything like it in the fashion catalogs.

“I can always find a new one.” She shook her head, as if unable to regain her focus.

“Buy a new one, you mean.” Briar took a deep breath, attempting to recover his own good sense. No, she meant find. She continuously collected things anyone else might have discarded. She’d been in the office one morning and already there were five new items he’d seen her pick up and place on the desk. Had she picked him up too, like a foundling who was broken and need of repair?

He stepped away from her, more to put distance between himself and his need to touch her again than for his embarrassment over damaging her finery. “I apologize, Ms. McCoy. I don’t quite know what came over me.”

“I came over ye, just as ye came over me. Plain and simple. Not the kiss, by any means”-her fists ended as balls against the lovely hips he’d admired with his hands only moments before-“at least as far as I am concerned. ’Twas one ballyhoo of a brassiere buster, in me way of thinking.”

“I take it that this is a brassiere?” He held up the contraption. Despite the awkwardness of the moment and stab at his pride, Briar began to laugh. His pent-up passion needed release and the laughter allowed him to rid himself of the tension. “I’ve heard of them but never seen one before.”

She nodded. “A homemade one, but it serves the purpose.” She took it from him and laid it on the cot. “I should say served its purpose. I’ll be for finding something else to string it together again.”

Coffee. I need coffee, Briar decided, his throat now parched for anything to quell the taste of Mina. Hell, I need a beer. Briar searched for something to do with his hands to stave off the feel of her. Of all times for the telegraph to lay silent. What he wouldn’t give to hear a ten-liner humming the wires. “Here, better drink your coffee before it gets cold,” he suggested, handing her a cup and taking his own. “No telling when the messages will start up again, and Violet ought to be in soon. She’ll be full of stories, I’m sure.”

Challenge radiated from the golden eyes that seemed to reach straight down into him and twist his gut.

“So we’re gonna pretend we didn’t kiss, are we?” When he took too long to mull exactly how to answer her, her chin lifted indignantly. “I would like to know if ye’re gonna be glad or sad that we did it.”

“Really, Miss McCoy, you continue to amaze me.” Briar stared at her over the rim of his cup. “Why is it is so important that you know how I feel about it?” Yet, he could see that it did matter to her…greatly.

“To see if ye liked it well enough to do it again.”

Do it again? Briar bolted to his feet and put distance between himself and the temptation she presented. Blazes, that’s all he could think of was doing it again, and again, and again. But he wasn’t sure how to handle a woman who wanted in such equal measure. Katie was…well, Katie just wasn’t so hot a burn. “I’m supposed to be the one who…The man’s suppose to-”

“What? Take the lead?” Her hands flung out to encompass the world about her. “I’ve no time for it. If ye canna tell that what we just shared was something God-golden-glorious, then ’tis my sworn duty to help ye find yer wits.”

Briar didn’t know if he liked her blatant, in-your-face sexuality. Hell, admit it man, you like it too much. “We think a little differently, you and I.”

“’Tis rightly so, and ’tis different ye’ve been wanting. I’m just the change of flavor ye’ve been hungry for and yer kiss told ye so. Deny it, if ye like, but the truth is the truth.”

Briar’s eyes met hers. His lips still tasted like hers; the fire of her seduction still simmered in his veins. He may have made a mistake in kissing her, but he would never deny that he was forever changed by it. “I wanted the kiss. Wanted you. But I can’t give you what I don’t have to offer.”

“And what is it that ye canna offer me? That ye’ve no ability to give?”

“A heart that can love again,” he answered with more truth than any she’d demanded of him.

Till now.

Chapter 8

The afternoon had been hectic, leaving Mina little time to think about what had transpired between her and Briar. Incoming and outgoing telegrams were so frequent that she’d barely had enough time to settle Violet in for her nap. But the lass must have enjoyed the hayride. She was asleep almost as quickly as her head lay on the cot. Small wonder Briar had been swamped with all his duties, if today’s activities were any indication.

The moment she thought of him, it was almost as if she could smell the wonderful essence that surrounded her any time Briar was near. A clean, musky, masculine scent that forced her attention away from the machine to see if her imagination had willed him closer.

“You okay?”

Mina wondered how long he’d been standing in the doorway watching her and hoped it had been for a while. That might mean he enjoyed what he saw and, after the kiss they shared and his certainty that she could not persuade his heart to soften, she was determined to make him enjoy being with her. She deliberately stretched her arms and yawned, hoping to define her femininity to its finest. “Tired. But ’tis a good tired I am. Got a lot done.”