He slid his hands behind her back, pulling her closer. “So let them talk.”
Camilla let out a deep breath, as though he should already know full well all the reasons why she might not want to be seen with him. “So dates need to consist of semiprivate conversations and a meal. Anything else?”
“We should probably include some sort of physical contact, just so we can differentiate it as a date as opposed to a business meeting.”
“Define physical contact.” She was softly stroking the skin between his hairline and his collar, and he didn’t think he could define anything if she kept touching him like that.
“Well...” He drew her even closer as he studied her turned-up face. “We should probably hold hands, maybe put our arms around each other on occasion.”
“Like this?” she asked, her chest rising as it brushed against his own.
His pulse picked up speed. “Oh, we should definitely touch each other like this. And...”
“And?” Her heavy gaze slid to his lips.
“And we should obviously finish off with a goodbye kiss,” he suggested.
Camilla didn’t give Jordan the chance to simply get by with one of those soft, restraining kisses he’d teased her with in the past, though.
No, she rose up on her toes and pressed her mouth eagerly against his. The pressure of her firm lips opening beneath his filled him with a heady thrill that he didn’t think could be matched. That was, not until she used her tongue to tentatively stroke against his as he welcomed her inside.
She settled her arms on his shoulders and cupped her hands behind his neck. His hands at her waist kept her close to him, but as he deepened the kiss, she arched against him.
Hearing her soft moan made his blood riot through his veins, but it also reminded him that they were in danger of going much further if one of them didn’t stop soon. When he pulled away, he was slightly dazed and could feel his heartbeat thumping as though he’d just outridden a bull at his first rodeo.
“Like that?” she asked, her breathing coming in little pants.
“Exactly like that,” he confirmed. “Although, I have a feeling that we just set the bar extremely high for our future goodbye kisses. I’ll have my work cut out for me to match that level of wow on every single date. But I’m willing to keep trying until I get it right.”
Her rib cage expanded above his grip as she shuddered. Then she straightened in his arms. “Like I said before, you’re pretty good at everything you do. I don’t think it’s going to take much more practice.”
His stomach tightened in anticipation at the thought of those practice sessions. There was no way he’d be happy with only six of these kisses.
He would definitely need to up their negotiations on the next date.
Chapter Five
“I don’t think this counts as one of our dates,” Jordan told Camilla on Saturday morning as they stood at the industrial-sized sink in the kitchen of the Bronco Valley Fire Station, washing multiple mixing bowls filled with pancake batter and a stack of syrup-covered dishes.
“Why not?” She laughed when he held a spatula the wrong way under the faucet and sent a spray of water right below his nose. “We’re currently having a semiprivate conversation and there was a meal.”
She hadn’t taken him up on his offer to fold laundry together yesterday because no good would’ve come from it. At least she could tell herself that today they were actually giving back to the community.
“Serving the pancake breakfast at your brother’s First Responders fundraiser doesn’t count as a meal if we don’t get to eat it ourselves,” Jordan replied.
Ever since their goodbye kiss two days ago at the airfield, Camilla hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way his mouth had turned her completely inside out. Even now she could barely take her eyes off his lips. She used a dish towel to mop up the water sticking to the dark stubble along his jawline. “Volunteers eat after their shift.”
“Good, because I’m starved.”
Camilla tried not to drool over his biceps in that snug-fitting T-shirt, but he was up to his elbows in sudsy water and she was having a difficult time looking anywhere else. Besides his lips, which were also off-limits right now. In fact, she knew there was no way she could trust herself to actually be alone with him. That was why she’d suggested their next date be somewhere as public as possible.
Everyone from the Valley still came to the annual First Responders pancake breakfast, even when the station had moved to the new location near City Hall in Bronco Heights. Especially when they heard Jordan Taylor would be the one serving them. Actually, she didn’t know for certain that word got out about Jordan being here, but when a group of young female teachers from Dante’s school asked him to pose for a selfie with them, Camilla suddenly became aware of the fact that this was one of the largest turnouts she could remember in years.
She hadn’t exactly accounted for any of those factors when she’d first promised Jordan that they could just eat pancakes with everyone else. Yet by the time Camilla and Jordan dried the last bowl, Felix had already turned off the griddle and there wasn’t a pancake left in sight.
Jordan surveyed the spotless kitchen. “Looks like you still owe me a meal.”
Working a volunteer shift with Jordan could be passed off as a charitable coincidence if people happened to spot them talking to each other. But if everyone saw them sharing breakfast at the diner next door, people in town would definitely start talking. It was already bad enough some of her friends had texted her with screenshots of the Denim and Diamonds gala Facebook page, which had posted pictures of Camilla and Jordan dancing together. The more people who suspected they were actually dating meant more people would know when Jordan eventually dumped her.
“We could grab a doughnut and a coffee at the bakery next door,” she suggested.
Jordan pursed his lips playfully before slowly shaking his head. “Nope. The terms of our agreement were for a full meal. Only a five-year-old would consider an apple fritter to be a full meal.”
“Fine.” Camilla sighed. “My apartment is only a few minutes away. I’ll cook you breakfast, but the goodbye kiss takes place outside.”
“You don’t trust yourself to kiss me again in private?” He slid his lower lip between his straight white teeth, and the wobbly feeling in Camilla’s legs made her realize that she was perfectly justified in not trusting herself around the man in public, either. But she wouldn’t admit as much.
“I’m just outlining the fine print, remember?”
“Got it. Does it say anything in there about me getting to keep this apron?” he asked.
She looked at the damp T-shirt sticking to his torso underneath. Maybe it was a better idea for him to keep as many layers on as possible. “No, but I think the fire station will give you a sweatshirt in exchange for a small donation.”
She’d make the donation herself if it would stop her from staring at his broad shoulders in that thin cotton fabric.
Leaving the fire station, they only had to drive a short distance to her apartment, a studio on the second floor of the Bronco Post Office. Many of the government agencies had been relocated to the Heights recently, but since the post office was a federal building, Aaron Sanchez had led the charge on keeping his workplace on this side of town.
As they exited their respective cars parked below her apartment, she realized that Jordan almost looked...normal. He wasn’t wearing his designer tux or his tailored work shirts or his expensive hand-tooled cowboy boots. Instead, his faded jeans, sneakers and recently purchased blue hooded sweatshirt with the BFD logo proudly displayed on his chest made Jordan Taylor appear as though he actually belonged here in Bronco Valley.
It probably would have been safer for her to see him totally shirtless.
Camilla had no business thinking that someone like him would ever simply fit into her
life. Something would eventually go wrong and he’d move back to his own world. The threat of impending disaster settled on her shoulders as she led him up the steps to her apartment.
Nevertheless, she persisted.
Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door. The excitement of being this close to him made her lightheaded, thereby counteracting the emotional weight of her decision to invite him inside.
* * *
Contrary to what she’d boldly assumed at the airfield the other day, Camilla’s studio apartment was in fact bigger than Jordan’s walk-in closet back at the ranch house. But not by much, he calculated.
Jordan sat on one of the chairs at the tiny table in the corner between her kitchen and a blue upholstered love seat crammed with too many throw pillows to accommodate one full-sized human, let alone two.
“How do you pronounce it again?” he asked before shoveling another bite of well-done eggs into his mouth.
“Chilequiles. There’s lots of variations, but this one is fried corn tortillas smothered in cheese and my dad’s homemade salsa. This is one of my grandma’s recipes that I’m toying with for my restaurant. It’s much better when the egg on top is sunny side up, but broken yolks are my cross to bear.”
“It’s perfect,” he insisted before taking another huge bite and letting the flavors of tomato and spices and tortilla come together in his mouth.
“Don’t look so impressed.” Camilla sat across from him, but the table was so narrow, their knees kept bumping underneath. “I rarely have time to grocery shop, and this particular recipe requires the fewest amount of ingredients and the least amount of skill. I don’t really cook, even when it’s my turn on Sunday evenings with my parents. I’m usually in charge of kitchen prep and I’ve picked up a few tricks when it comes to plating the food. But this is about as far as my expertise goes.”
“You might not want to mention that to the future investors of your restaurant. Aren’t world famous chefs the trend right now?” he asked.
“I don’t want trendy. I want good service and great food. A place where people can go on a first date or on a seventeenth date. Special, but also ordinary, if that makes any sense.”
Jordon shook his head. “There is nothing ordinary about you.”
“That all depends on how you define it. If I were to come visit you at your house, I suppose that I would stick out like a sore thumb.” She speared a mound of tortillas and egg on her fork. “But here in Bronco Valley, I assure you that I am very ordinary.”
Like the Sanchez home, Camilla’s apartment was stuffed with books—both business-related and an array of fiction paperbacks—and framed family photos that were not staged by professional photographers. Not everything matched, but it was clean and interesting and full of her personality. The main house on the Taylor Ranch was also full of history and personality, but not quite the same amount of warmth. At least not anymore. When Jordan, Brandon and Daphne were little, Cornelius had been a busy, yet doting single father who’d hung up his children’s artwork on the fridge and didn’t mind bicycles and footballs left on the front lawn. But then his kids got older and his wives got younger and a team of interior decorators convinced the patriarch of the family that his home should reflect his standing in the community.
Yet that didn’t mean Camilla couldn’t be equally as comfortable at the ranch. After all, the Taylor home was at its best when it was filled with people, like it had been the night he’d met her.
“I highly doubt you would stick out at my house.” Jordan said. “In fact, you’ve already been there and as I recall, you fit in quite well.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “That was before you knew who I was.”
“But you knew who you were and you seemed to be having a good time,” he said.
“Going to a massive party in a tent on your property is a lot different than going inside your actual home.”
“Prove it,” he suggested.
“Prove it to who? I already know what will happen.”
“Prove it to me. When’s your next day off?”
“Tomorrow.” Camilla narrowed her gaze. “Why?”
“Because I want you to come out to the ranch and let me show you around. It’s actually the best time to visit because most of the employees have the day off, so it’s usually just the family there. It’s the perfect time to show up and just be yourself.”
“Fine. But make sure the private chef leaves us something to eat so it can count as one of our dates.”
“You don’t think I can cook something for you?” he challenged her.
“Can you?” She lifted one brow.
“I can if it involves meat and bread and sandwich toppings.”
“With that kind of promise, how do I say no?”
For the second time that day, he helped her wash the dishes, even though this kitchen was barely big enough for them to stand side by side, which he actually preferred.
Her apartment was so comfortable and so inviting, he wanted to kick back on her love seat and settle in for an afternoon nap while she studied, then later watch her get ready for her shift tonight at DJ’s. But Jordan knew better than to wear out his welcome. He wanted to leave her wanting more.
“I guess I better take off so you can get to work,” he said, balling up the wet dishcloth in his hand.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” she offered.
“Only to the door?” He lifted the corner of his mouth. So maybe he didn’t want to leave her wanting that much more. “What about that goodbye kiss being in public?”
“It’s probably not a good idea to do it where everyone can see us.” Her brow was furrowed as though she was seriously contemplating it. “How about right outside my door? It overlooks the side alley and there shouldn’t be too many people passing through there.”
He followed her outside to the small balcony landing, where the stairs led to a parking area below with her Toyota and two postal trucks. The second she turned around, he didn’t wait for her to make the first move.
This time he kissed her, pulling her in close as he cupped his hand around her neck, cradling her head. He’d let her lead on that kiss yesterday, using every ounce of his control to hold himself still as she explored his mouth. Now he was returning the favor.
His tongue stroked and caressed and promised that he was more than capable of filling her every need. In response, she pressed her body to his, straining against him as she let out a soft gasp followed by an even deeper moan. Hearing her sounds of desire only heightened Jordan’s already growing arousal. It was obvious that if they continued, he’d soon have her against the open door frame. Blood was pounding in both his ears and his lower extremities when he finally pulled his mouth away and rested his forehead against hers.
It took several seconds of controlled breathing for him to trust himself to open his eyes and look at her. Satisfaction filled his chest as he noted her dilated pupils. It took more patience than he thought he possessed to not pull her in for another kiss. Instead, he asked, “So, we’ll continue this tomorrow?”
“Maybe not all of this,” she replied, then tentatively touched her full lips. “I’ve got to practice some restraint.”
He put his finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Don’t restrain yourself on my account. I like you just the way you are.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured, then stepped backward and closed her front door.
* * *
Jordan’s eyes took inventory of the house that resembled a five-star dude ranch rather than an actual residence where real people lived. Hell, compared to Camilla’s apartment, this place felt like a damn museum.
He’d grown up here and it had always felt just like...well...home. It was all he knew. Wait. That wasn’t exactly correct. The “kids wing,” which contained the original bedrooms, felt like home becaus
e they were the least changed rooms in the house. It was also the area, other than the office building, where Jordan spent the most time.
When Cornelius divorced his first wife, he’d hired an architect and a general contractor to expand the floorplan. He’d said that it was high time to update their home, but Daphne had told her brothers that it felt like their dad was trying to erase his past with their mother. When he met his second wife, he’d brought in an interior decorator to showcase some cooked-up vision of a “modern Western vibe”—whatever that meant. After a second divorce, Cornelius hired a different interior decorator to redo the house, and soon a habit was formed. Every time Jordan’s father suffered some sort of break-up or emotional setback, the old man added onto the house—making it grander than before—as a way of reaffirming his family’s heritage and, in his mind, his value.
If Jordan wanted to convince Camilla that he was no different from her, then the formal entry was not the place to welcome her to his family home. He could invite her straight into his bedroom, the least ostentatious of all the rooms, but that might give her the impression that he was trying to seduce her. That left only one other choice.
Crossing the stately front porch, he headed across the circular gravel driveway and kept himself busy inside the stables as he waited for her arrival.
After their intense kiss yesterday, he’d gone straight to his office and buried himself in the latest reports on increasing the sustainable energy resources at all the Taylor Beef packing facilities. He’d been in need of an outlet to redirect his own energy, and going to work kept him from thinking about Camilla’s lips and how they’d matched his so perfectly. The distraction had worked for the first hour. The rest of the night had been a struggle to focus on anything but her.
He was closing the paddock gate when he heard her engine shut off, and a thrill shot through him. She exited her car wearing faded jeans that perfectly hugged her curves in all the right spots, an old pair of tan cowboy boots, and a hooded sweatshirt that said University of Montana.
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