Robin was quiet during the thirty-minute drive, but whenever Ethan glanced at her, he noticed a slight smile on her face. Yes, the evening had gone well. He didn’t believe she suspected how nervous he’d been about asking her out to dinner, nor did she know of his heightened awareness of her during the meal.
All in all, his Aunt Bess would be proud of him.
As he pulled the Bronco into the driveway of the Franklin home, the night surrounded them like a black glove. The porch lights Robin had turned on earlier seemed far away from the gravel drive where he’d parked. As soon as he turned off the engine, the silence of the night added to the sense of isolation. Not since he’d been a hormone-laden young man could he remember feeling such charged anticipation.
“I had a good time tonight, Ethan.” Her voice sounded as soft as the velvet darkness outside.
He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her, thankful for the bucket seats that separated them. Otherwise, he’d be sorely tempted to pull her into his arms and claim that the night wasn’t yet over.
But it was. He had to accept the fact that Robin Cummings was not for him. He wasn’t about to let his physical attraction for her overrule his common sense. She was here only temporarily; he’d established a new life for himself in this small town. She belonged among the wealthy clients and excitement of the city; he never wanted to live among the crowds and crime of a metropolitan area again.
So he settled on a bland response. “I had a good time, too.”
She removed her seat belt, then turned in the seat until she faced him. “I liked the restaurant very much. I’d forgotten how strong the German influence is here in the Hill Country.”
“Most people do, despite the names of the towns that give away the heritage of their founders.”
Robin chuckled. “It’s been a long time since I took Texas history.”
“Not as long as it’s been for me.”
“You can’t be that old.”
“Thirty-two, not that I’m counting.”
“You’re from Texas originally?”
She sounded genuinely interested. Despite his intention to leave as quickly as possible to reduce any chance of acting on his attraction, he wanted to answer her question. “Yes, I grew up in a little town called West.”
“I know West. I’ve shopped for antiques there.”
“Then you know it’s a lot like the Hill Country in the mix of ethnic backgrounds—Czech, German, English. I didn’t appreciate the town too much back then, though. I couldn’t wait to get to the big city.”
“I suppose most small-town kids are like that.”
Ethan nodded. “That’s one reason the population of so many rural towns is declining. There aren’t many diversions or interesting jobs for young people.”
“So you left after high school?”
“I went to college in Fort Worth, then took a job with the FBI. After training, I was assigned to Dallas. I loved it…for about five years.”
“Didn’t you like your job?”
He shrugged. “I liked most of it. I worked with some good people. I liked the idea of fighting crime, preserving order, that sort of thing. But I did get a little tired of the bureaucracy and paperwork.”
“Did you get rid of that when you moved here and became police chief?”
He smiled. “I’ve done my best to eliminate most of it.”
“That’s good.” She shifted in her seat, smoothing her hair behind one ear. He watched the faint light caress her skin and wanted to do the same with his fingers. Parts of his body wanted to do much, much more.
He felt himself lean forward, the arm that had rested on the top of the steering wheel reaching toward her. As though it were happening in slow motion, he watched her lips part in awareness, her body shift subtly toward his.
He wanted to kiss her. He’d been yearning to taste her lips since she’d cried on her front porch and he’d taken her in his arms. And, apparently, she wanted him to kiss her. All the signs were there. All he had to do was frame her face with his hands and seal his mouth over hers.
The knowledge that she returned his feelings jolted him to attention. He inhaled a deep breath, then eased back in the bucket seat. What was he thinking? Nothing. That was the problem. He’d started acting on primitive instinct, which would prove disastrous. No way could he let this relationship progress from a friendly dinner to a sensual breakfast. No way could he mislead her into thinking he wanted a dating relationship—or anything more.
She must have felt the tension, but he didn’t risk looking at her to find out. After a few seconds, she said, “We never did have dessert. Would you like to come in for coffee?”
He made a show of looking at his watch, the dial luminous in the darkness of the interior. “I’d better not. I have to be at the station early in the morning.”
“Well, then, thank you for dinner.”
He heard the click of the door handle and hurried to open his own. The immediate glare of the overhead light further distanced him from the dark, magical moments just passed.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’ll walk you to your door.” He smiled as he came around to her side of the Bronco. “I’m a lawman, remember? Ready to save you from marauding animals or any other threat to your person. Humor me.”
“Yes, Chief Parker,” she said with a jaunty salute.
He laughed, the tension broken.
“Did I tell you what I originally thought a smalltown police chief would look like?” she asked, as they walked up to the porch.
“No, I don’t think you mentioned it.”
She laughed and shook her head. “I imagined someone around sixty, looking a lot like Andy Griffith or Carroll O’Connor. I also thought you might have a potbelly and be partial to some sort of tobacco product.”
Ethan laughed at the stereotypical image. “No potbelly—not yet, anyway.” He patted his flat stomach, inordinately proud that he’d kept up with his Academy training. “And no tobacco.”
“Somehow, I just don’t see you ever succumbing to stereotype.” She smiled, but she didn’t seem as happy as she had earlier in the evening. He didn’t know what to say, so he remained quiet while she unlocked the door.
“Again, I had a good time this evening.”
“I did, too.”
He held on to the storm door, as she stepped inside. He wanted to lean forward, kiss her goodnight. Ask her on another date. But he could do none of those things.
“Good night, Robin.”
“Good night, Ethan.” She smiled again, then gently closed the door.
He turned and walked quickly back to his Bronco, before he changed his mind and knocked on her door. Before he did something incredibly stupid that Aunt Bess would say was out of line for a first date.
Even for a man who probably got less “action” than Bess’s friends in the retirement home.
ROBIN WAITED AN ENTIRE DAY to call Ethan. Oh, she’d had second thoughts about contacting him. And third, and fourth. But she’d promised Bess that she’d spend some time with Ethan, and one dinner date—especially one that ended with him nervously glancing at his watch around ten o’clock at night—probably wouldn’t count.
Perhaps he didn’t want to spend more time with her. Maybe she’d misread his signals when they were sitting in his Bronco. For a moment, she’d thought he was going to kiss her. She’d responded automatically, before she’d remembered that she was not going to get romantically involved.
Of course, even if he had kissed her, that didn’t mean they’d develop a relationship. His kisses might not stir her to great passion. Maybe there wasn’t any chemistry between them.
Right.
Robin sighed, looking down once again at the business card Ethan had given her at the fast-food restaurant a few days ago. She was trying to fool herself if she thought there was no chemistry. She might be a little rusty from not dating anyone—except her fiancé—for months and months, but she thought she still recognize
d the signs. It seemed to her that Ethan had been trying awfully hard to be the perfect gentleman during the drive and dinner. That meant one of two things: either he was gritting his teeth and bearing a horrible date, or he was attracted to her and was trying not to show his feelings.
He was a difficult man to read. Obviously, his FBI and police training served him well. He’d learned to mask his emotions and control his responses more than the average person. She honestly couldn’t be sure about Ethan’s motives for asking her out in the first place, or for behaving so…properly during their date.
“I owe this to Bess,” she told herself as she picked up the phone. She’d promised the older lady, and she wasn’t about to disappoint one of her great-aunt’s best friends.
She glanced once more at the kitchen clock. Ethan should be home from the police station by now, unless he had someplace else to be. Like a civic function. Or another date.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Ethan, this is Robin.”
She heard him shift the phone, giving them an uncomfortably long pause. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” she said, relieved he sounded at least a little happy to hear from her. She’d been concerned he’d be bored or indifferent, but that’s not what she heard in his voice. And she considered herself a good judge of character via the phone lines. After all, she had to read the moods of her clients, and sometimes negotiate the best price for an item with a supplier.
“Ethan, I wanted to tell you again that I enjoyed the drive and dinner the other night.”
“I did too, Robin.”
“You mentioned your aunt is out of town. I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Dinner at your place?”
“Yes, if you’d like.”
He paused briefly. She imagined him standing with the phone clutched in one hand, a slight frown on his face. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” he said.
“No problem,” she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back. Ethan didn’t need to know she couldn’t cook. After all, she’d just have to warm up some food she’d purchase. Surely that couldn’t be too hard with the new, state-of-the-art cooktop and ovens in the Franklin’s French country kitchen. And Mrs. Franklin seemed to have a wide array of pans and dishes. Presenting a meal for two shouldn’t be too difficult. At least she felt totally confident of creating a stunning table setting!
“That sounds very nice,” he finally said, his voice conveying a deep reservation about accepting.
Robin wanted to put him at ease, so she added, “Please don’t think of this as a date. I told you I’d recently broken up with my fiancé. I’m not ready to jump into another relationship. I’d just like to have a friend in town. Nothing more.”
“I understand. I agree,” he said, sounding relieved.
“Good. I just wanted to be clear about that.”
“I appreciate your honesty.”
“Okay,” she said, releasing a breath. “How about seven o’clock?”
“Sounds good. Can I bring wine?”
“Oh, I’ll pick up something when I’m out tomorrow.”
“Ranger Springs is dry.”
Dry? She’d totally forgotten she was in a rural community, one that obviously didn’t want package liquor stores popping up. Just one more difference between country and city life.
“You’d have to drive about fifteen miles,” he added. “Why don’t I just bring something from home?”
“In that case, thanks. Whatever you’d like will be fine.”
“Red or white?”
Hmm. That meant she needed to know what entrée she’d be serving—which was impossible. She had no idea what type of catered food she’d find in Ranger Springs. “Which is your favorite?”
Ethan chuckled. “I’m kind of partial to beer when I drink, which isn’t real often.”
Robin laughed. “Then bring your favorite beer. I’ll try to prepare something appropriate.”
“Great. See you tomorrow at seven.”
“Good night, Ethan.”
She placed the phone gently in the cradle. Well, that wasn’t so hard! They’d share a friendly meal. Both of them knew where they stood as far as relationships went. And Bess would be happy that Ethan hadn’t died of boredom while she was visiting friends.
What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Five
“What do you mean, there are no caterers in Ranger Springs?” Robin asked the startled lady at the Chamber of Commerce office the next morning. She knew her voice showed her panic, but she couldn’t help herself. Even though she knew the town boasted no mall or fancy restaurants, she’d never considered that she couldn’t get a decently prepared meal from some food professional in town.
“You might check at the café. They could fix you some ‘to go’ food. Their chicken-fried steak is mighty tasty.”
“I can’t serve chicken-fried steak! No one would believe I fixed that as an entrée!”
Robin knew her voice was rising to near hysteria, but she couldn’t believe the situation she’d gotten herself into. Of course, she thought as her gaze darted around the old converted bank building that now housed the Chamber of Commerce, Visitor’s Bureau and Historical Society, she shouldn’t be surprised. Ranger Springs was a small town, a down-home, Texas-y place, where chicken-fried steak was considered the best a restaurant could offer. How could she have forgotten where she was staying when she’d invited Ethan to dinner tonight?
Tonight! She had to get busy.
“Or you could wait until next Wednesday night,” the middle aged lady offered. “The Methodist church has a covered dish supper once a month. All the women bring their best. You’d be sure to get some good food there.”
“I’m sure I would,” Robin replied, her tone reflecting her despair. But she wasn’t going to accomplish anything by panicking. She’d just have to come up with another plan.
“How about the grocery stores. Do they sell prepared foods?”
The woman appeared confused. “I don’t think so, unless you mean those frozen dinners.”
“No, I’m talking about rotisserie chicken, spiral cut hams, that sort of thing?”
“I’ve never seen anything like that. Most of the women in town fix their own chickens. Well, not real live chickens, mind you. You can get good fryers or roasters at the grocery store.”
Robin rested her chin in her hand as she leaned against the high counter. “How long does it take to drive to Austin or San Antonio?”
“About an hour to the outskirts of San Antonio, about forty-five minutes to the Austin area.”
“Okay. They’ll have caterers.”
“I suppose so.” The woman tilted her head to the side, then asked, “You really don’t cook?”
“Not much.” And what she did cook rarely turned out looking like the recipe or tasting like the dish she was trying to imitate—even though she never tried anything elaborate or difficult. Her mother didn’t cook, and Great-aunt Sylvia limited her kitchen time to an occasional batch of cookies. Robin had accepted the fact she’d never be a cook, although she could set an elegant and innovative table.
“Thank you,” Robin told the nice lady who still looked confused. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone. I’m not going to be in town for very long, but it’s kind of embarrassing for others to know I can’t fix a decent meal.” Especially the chief of police or his nice aunt, she silently added.
Robin slipped on her sunglasses and stepped into the Texas summer heat. She unlocked the car, let the hot air escape, then sat down in the cushy driver’s seat. She’d calmed down; there was no reason to panic. She could get what she needed and still be back by one o’clock.
The evening would be pleasant. She’d explain to Ethan again that she only thought of him as a friend; she wasn’t looking for a romantic relationship. She’d thank him for making her feel welcome in town, and send him on his way. No
awkward scenes at the front door. No near-kisses in the car or on the porch.
Absolutely not. As soon as she had this food situation under control, she’d feel much more incharge when it came to Ethan Parker and his reluctant, sexy smiles. And his bedroom eyes. And his to-die-for body.
All she needed was some good food and fresh flowers. She’d do what she did best: create a relaxing and decorative environment. Then everything would be fine.
ROBIN HAD DECIDED on a summer theme of red, white and blue. Using Mrs. Franklin’s casual white fluted place settings and her pistol-grip handle flatware, she’d had set the table with blue and white toile place mats. At a lovely shop in Dripping Springs, a suburb of Austin, she’d found red gingham napkins which she folded in a fleur-de-lis shape. Then she’d gathered blue Delft pottery from around the house and created a centerpiece of Texas bluebonnets, white delphinia and red tulips from a florist shop in the same suburb where she’d located a gourmet restaurant that catered.
Of course, she’d spent entirely too much time shopping, and too much money on the new-potato salad, roasted chicken, risotto and marinated string beans. That hadn’t stopped her from buying for dessert an adorable blueberry, strawberry and whipped cream confection in the design of an American flag.
“Perfect,” she said, adjusting the last tulip so it draped artfully over the edge of the blue-and-white pottery. All she had to do was light the two white tapers and the setting would be suitable for a Fourth of July Traditional Home photo shoot.
She’d enjoyed the preparations and the decorating. But how was she going to get through the next weeks without the adrenaline high of searching for caterers in a small town? Or preparing for a special guest? Or having a relaxing and fun evening with a…friend?
She’d wanted to get away from friends and family, but she hadn’t really thought through the reality of living alone in a town where she knew no one. Or practically no one. Bess and Ethan were the only two people she could call close acquaintances, and the older lady only because of Great-aunt Sylvia.
The Bachelor Project Page 5