As he whispered the words, his lips slowly parted hers. They didn’t take, they coaxed this time. Moist, aching pressure teased her mouth open in a silence that grew with strained breathing. He moved, so that her head fell back against the seat, and his face followed hers, his mouth still teasing, provoking, tantalizing until she was trembling.
“You set me on fire,” he groaned as the need finally broke through. The pressure of the kiss pushed her head hard into the back of the seat, and she felt him shiver as his tongue slowly thrust past her teeth. He groaned again, one lean hand sliding down her throat to her breast under the shirt, over the thin tank top. “Stop wearing bras,” he managed unsteadily. “They just get in my way.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was kissing her again, and this time his hand slid boldly right under the fabric. His thumb rubbed tenderly over her hard nipple, his moist palm cupping the firm underside of her breast. She moaned and he lifted his head.
“Satin and velvet,” he said, his eyes glittery as they met hers. He deliberately pulled her tank top and bra out, so that he could look down at her taut, bare breast. “Yes,” he said huskily, but without touching her this time. “You look as I knew you would. Pretty breasts. Tip-tilted and exquisitely pretty.”
Her lips parted, but she was beyond shock. She shivered and actually arched toward him, so aroused that she wanted his mouth on her, there.
But he saw what she didn’t—the curtains moving at the window. He released her reluctantly and lifted his head. “I can’t touch you there,” he said quietly. “Not now. We have an audience.”
“Oh,” she stammered, all at sea.
He lifted his invading hand back to her cheek and searched her eyes for a long moment. “We’ll be good together,” he said quietly. “You know it, too, don’t you?”
She should tell him, she thought. She should... “Yes,” she replied instead.
He nodded. “I won’t rush you,” he said. “But I won’t wait a great deal longer, either. It’s been too long for me.”
She didn’t know what to say. She shifted a little, still on fire in the aftermath of his ardor.
“Good night, sweet thing,” he murmured, kissing her closed eyelids. “You’re very special.”
He drew back then and helped her out of the Jeep, keeping his arm around her as they walked back to the porch.
“Your guardian angel is hanging back,” he mused, smiling down at her. “Is she giving up?”
Her heart leaped. “Sort of. She’s engaged, you know.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So she is.” He tapped her cheek. “I’ll never be,” he said suddenly. “You know that, don’t you? I enjoy being with you, and physically, we burn each other up. But I won’t lie and promise you happy ever after. I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
Her heart didn’t want to hear that. She forced a smile to her mouth. “Yes, I know.”
He nodded slowly, searching her eyes. He couldn’t let her get her hopes up. Marriage was definitely not on his agenda. He was still having hell coping with his past. And there was one very good reason why he didn’t want to procreate. Bad genes could be passed on. He shifted. “Good girl. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night and we’ll go to the rodeo. I know I said next week, but I don’t want to wait that long. Do you?”
She shook her head. “No. Not really,” she confessed.
“Then I’ll come for you at six.” He nuzzled her face and kissed her softly. “Good night, pretty thing.”
She smiled up at him a little wanly. “Good night. Thanks for the trip, and my earrings.”
He twitched them, watching them dangle. “They suit you. See you tomorrow.”
He was gone at once, without another kiss and still without looking back. She went into the house, smiling as Winnie came to meet her.
“We’re just putting supper on the table,” Winnie said. “Have fun?”
“Oh, yes. He knows a lot about the Custer Battlefield, doesn’t he?” she asked.
“Indeed he does. Did he bore you with it? Marie says he drives them crazy spouting history.”
“But I love it!” Allison said, surprised. “History is one of my hobbies. I found it fascinating.”
Winnie’s eyebrows went up. “My, my, imagine that.” She grinned. “Way to go, tiger. You may land that feisty fish yet. Come on. I’ll feed you.”
The remark gave Allison hope, and she needed it. Her conscience was bothering her. She really should tell Gene the truth. If only she could be sure that he wouldn’t turn around and walk away from her for good.
The next day, Allison decided that the best thing to wear to a rodeo—since her one pair of jeans was in the wash—was a blue denim skirt with sporty pull-on pink sneakers and a pink T-shirt. But she wore a lightweight rose-patterned sweater with it, because she hadn’t forgotten how cool it had been in Billings after dark. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and tied it with a pink scarf. Then she sat down to wait for Gene, because she’d dressed two hours early for their date. Every few minutes she involuntarily checked her watch. The instrument was so much part of her uniform when she worked that she felt naked without it. Despite the innovations in modern medicine, a watch with a sweep second hand was about the most advanced equipment for pulse monitoring available in the primitive areas where she and her parents had worked.
Winnie’s mother had been invited to a baby shower for a friend’s daughter, and Winnie was going out with Dwight. They left just a few minutes before Gene arrived. True to her word, Winnie didn’t make a single remark about the date. She just hugged Allison
