by Kristi Gold
“Mitch, I don’t think—”
“Don’t think, Tori.” He took her glass and placed it next to his on the dash, then shoved the open bottle between his seat and the door. “Thinking is overrated.”
Tori was overheated, on the brink of incineration when he took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. The tart taste of wine lingered on his tongue, his slow, steady thrusts displaying his need that matched her own. In spite of her previous goal, she couldn’t garner the strength to stop him. Couldn’t even consider anything but the softness of his tempting lips, the scent of his tantalizing cologne, the glide of his talented hand over her hip as he pulled her closer.
Breaking the kiss, he murmured, “This velvet feels great.”
So did his mouth on her neck, hot and damp as he graced it with soft kisses, working his way to her ear. “I want to take this dress off of you. Then I want to rub it all over your body. And mine.”
Tori wanted that too. Boy, did she want that.
And she just might get it, she decided, when he reached for the back zipper and slid it down. “You mean take it off here? Now?” Her voice sounded unnaturally tinny and shrill.
“Not completely,” he whispered. “Only a little. I just want to touch you a little. Then I want to take you to my bed where we can do this right. I want to see you naked.” His voice sounded smooth, but his breathing sounded shallow. So was Tori’s, what little breath she had left.
Tori lost all her will, all her logic, when he slipped the dress off her right shoulder, exposing the top of her bra. She clung to his head, threading her fingers through his thick, dark hair while he brushed kisses across the rise of her breast, using his tongue to make tempting incursions beneath the red lace. Slowly he inched the fabric down until he revealed her nipple for the wicked workings of his lips. The steady pull of his mouth hurtled heat straight to her thighs where his hand now worked the dress upward. In a matter of minutes, she would completely forget why she’d agreed to this rendezvous if she didn’t put an end to this now.
Framing his jaws in her palms, she pulled his head up and gave him a beseeching look. “Mitch, we have to stop before we can’t.”
He straightened and sighed. “I know.”
After redoing her dress, he scooted over to his side of the truck and tipped his forehead against the steering wheel. “You’re going to be hard-pressed to believe this, but I don’t normally come on that strong. It’s you. You make me crazy.”
Tori couldn’t recall when a man had ever said that to her, but she couldn’t let flattery or his sensuality rule her head. And she wondered how crazy he would be once she told him the truth.
He lifted his head and glanced her way again. “Now, what did you want to ask me? Let’s make it quick so we can get out of here, get on with the festivities, then get on with some more pleasurable activities.”
Damn his confidence. She hadn’t even said she was willing to go to bed with him again, even though, if things were different, she certainly would.
The man was sufficiently sucking her mind as dry as an Oklahoma gulch in late summer. For that reason, she focused on the two barely touched glasses of champagne sitting side by side on the dash. “Actually, I have a request. But first, I need to tell you something.”
“You have a boyfriend.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Husband?”
“I’m serious, Mitch.”
“I can tell. So if you don’t have another lover, what is it?”
“I need something from you.” And that sounded totally questionable to Tori. She could only imagine how it had sounded to him.
She knew exactly how it had sounded when he said, “I’ve already told you I’m ready to give you whatever you need, all night long, this time in a real bed.”
Oh, how tempting it would be to tell him to take her away and make good on that promise. But she couldn’t. “I’m not referring to sex.”
His sigh sounded highly frustrated. “Okay, Tori, you’re confusing the hell out of me here. Just spit it out.”
She drew in a long breath and released it slowly. “I’m a journalist, and I want your story.”
Four
This was the closest Mitch had ever come to being sucker punched by a woman. He sat silent for a few moments to let the revelation sink in. Shock gave way to anger and the bitter taste of betrayal overrode the sweet taste of Tori still lingering on his lips.
He risked a look to find her studying her joined hands. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this last night?”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, the same shoulder he’d kissed only moments before. “I was going to say something when we were at Stella’s, but when you made the comment about the press rifling in your glove box, I just lost my nerve. Later, I, uh, had other things on mind.”
She’d had her hands all over his body. He didn’t need to remember how great last night had been, or how much he had hoped for a repeat performance tonight. He needed to hang on to his anger. For all intents and purposes, she was the enemy.
“I’m not your enemy, Mitch,” she said as if she’d read his mind.
“I’ve never found one friend among the media.”
“Not every journalist buys into sensationalism. Some of us are responsible.”
He shot her a hard look. “I have a difficult time believing that, especially since you didn’t bother to let me in on your little secret.”
She touched his arm then drew back, like she’d forgotten herself. “If you’ll just listen for a minute, I’ll explain why I think it will be to your advantage to let me do an interview.”
Under normal circumstances, Mitch would admire her persistence. But nothing about their relationship so far had been even remotely normal. Not their initial meeting. Not their sexual beginning. Not his undeniable attraction to her that still lived on even after what he now knew. “There’s nothing advantageous about spilling your guts. I value my privacy. I’ve worked damn hard to escape the attention. No need to stir it up again.”
“It’s going to get stirred up since your father’s probably about to announce his retirement.”
“I don’t give a damn about politics.”
“Then you might consider stating your position now rather than let the speculation start to fly. Define your aspirations before someone does it for you. I’m willing to help you.”
He ran a hand over his face and stared straight ahead. Some of what she’d said made sense, but he wasn’t into logic right now. “You have no idea what it’s like to have every detail of your life exposed so everyone can take a jab.”
“Actually, I do.”
The hint of pain in her voice brought Mitch’s attention back to her. “How so?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
It did to him, even though it probably shouldn’t. “Hey, if you expect me to open up to you, it’s only fair you do the same.”
“This isn’t about me. This is about an opportunity you shouldn’t pass up.”
“I don’t want my life plastered all over some newspaper.”
“It’s not a newspaper. I work for a Dallas women’s magazine. We feature stories about successful men in Texas.”
“I don’t live in Texas, in case you haven’t noticed.” He couldn’t control his sarcasm, yet it didn’t seem to dissuade Tori.
“But you’re from a prominent Texas political dynasty, so that counts. I’m proposing a story that focuses on your life as a rancher, not as a politician’s son. If you don’t intend to follow in your father’s footsteps, then this is the perfect venue to let that be known.”
“And what’s in it for you?”
“Well, honestly, it would mean more visibility for me. Possibly a promotion.”
The anger came back with the realization he’d been set up by a woman who’d incited his total loss of control and moved him more than any woman he had known. “You had this planned the minute you stepped into town, didn’t you? Pretty damned convenient to have St
ella and Bob’s wedding as a front.”
She looked on the verge of getting mad, and he wanted her that way. He wanted her as mad as he was at the moment. Mad over the deception. Mad because this wasn’t the way tonight was supposed to end. “For your information,” she said, “it didn’t occur to me to ask for the interview until you stepped into the bar last night.”
Irrational anger overwhelmed his usual common sense. “So was that what our little interlude was all about, sex for a story?”
First, she looked as if she’d been slugged, then her brown eyes flashed fury. “I’m not even going to justify that with an answer.” She grabbed the door handle. “Forget about it. I’m sorry I asked. I’m sorry about everything.”
Damn, he wasn’t being at all fair. She didn’t deserve this much animosity. And in reality, he didn’t want her to leave. “Wait.”
She hesitated, the door partially ajar. “Why? So you can rake me over the coals some more because of my chosen profession?”
“No. So I can apologize.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Good. Now close the door.”
“Why?”
“Because I need more details about what you’re proposing.”
She looked hopeful and sweeter than she had a right to be. “Then you’ll actually consider it?”
“I’m willing to listen.”
After closing the door, she settled back into the corner of the seat. “First, I’d follow you around for a week, focusing on Mitch Warner, the rancher, and his life. It’s also an opportune time to reveal a lighter side of your personality. For example, what you do in your spare time. Your favorite activities. What you admire most in a woman.”
“Honesty.”
Again, she looked as if she’d been slapped. Why the hell couldn’t he control his mouth where she was concerned? “I guess I deserve that,” she said. “But I promise I’ll be honest with you from now on. In fact, I’d be willing to let you see the final draft. You can approve or disapprove any of the content before it’s put to bed.”
Speaking of bed…. Even though he didn’t like that she’d hidden the truth about her questionable occupation, Mitch was still commanded by their chemistry, and he didn’t see any end to it anytime soon. Especially if she spent a solid week in his world. “What about us?”
“What about us?”
“This thing between us.”
She sighed. “Our relationship would have to be strictly professional from this point forward.”
“And this is supposed to sell me on the idea?”
She hinted at a smile. “Whatever’s existed between us on a personal level until now will have to be ignored.”
He’d bet his back forty acres she couldn’t ignore it any more than he could, and he intended to put her to the test. Scooting across the seat, he cupped her chin, running his thumb over her lower lip. “You really think that’s possible?”
“Sure.” She didn’t sound at all convinced.
He trailed his fingertip down her throat and outlined the scoop neck of her dress, following the path where his mouth had been only a few minutes before. “Just like that, you’re going to turn it off?”
“Yes.”
When he palmed her breast, this time through the fabric, she released a ragged breath. “Are you sure about that?” he asked.
“Positive.”
“Your nipple’s hard.”
“It’s cold.”
“You’re lying again.”
She pulled his hand away and rested it in his lap. “I’m a lot stronger than you think. If you’ll let me do this story, I’ll prove it to you.”
For the second time, Mitch collapsed against the seat and stared at the truck’s faded headliner. “I’ll have to think about.”
“Fine. My plane leaves from Oklahoma City at noon. That means I’ll need to leave Stella’s tomorrow by 9 a.m. If you’re not there, then I’ll take that as a no and head back to Dallas. We’ll forget any of this ever happened.”
Regardless of whether he decided to do the interview, he would never forget what had happened between them last night. What had almost happened again tonight. He would never forget her. “Okay. Agreed.”
She nodded toward the bar. “We need to go back inside. I’m sure they’re wondering where we are.”
“Suit yourself.”
She frowned. “Aren’t you coming in?”
“No. I’m going to say here for a while. I need to calm down.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose as if she had one helluva headache. “I’m sorry I made you so angry. I never intended to do that.”
“Anger isn’t my problem at the moment.”
She sent a pointed look at his lap, which didn’t help matters at all. Even with the loose fit of the slacks, his problem was more than evident.
“Oh,” she muttered then glanced away.
“Oh, yeah.”
“I’m sorry about that, too.”
Mitch was only sorry he couldn’t do anything about it, at least not with her tonight. But maybe later. If he agreed to her request.
He had a lot to consider tonight, not only her current proposal but also the fact that he was hard as hell just thinking about what they could be doing in his bed. He’d just have to decide if having her around for a week would be worth it.
Who was he trying to fool? Damn straight it would be worth it.
When he didn’t speak, she opened the truck and slid out. “I really hope I see you in the morning.”
He really hoped that if he did decide to do it, he wouldn’t be making a major mistake.
Tori’s hope began to fade when she glanced at her watch. Half past nine, and no Mitch. She’d already mopped the kitchen floor twice in order to ready Stella’s rental house for the next tenants. In fact, the family could probably eat off the vinyl tiles. And worse, she was ruining her good black slacks and favorite white crepe de chine blouse. She should have changed into something more casual but she’d wanted to save her one pair of jeans for later, in case Mitch decided to take her up on her offer. That obviously was not going to happen. Stalling for time wasn’t going to make Mitch Warner magically materialize.
Last night, she’d seen him only briefly back at the bar after their tense encounter in his truck. He’d stayed long enough to toast the couple and then headed away with only a quick goodbye. He hadn’t witnessed the cake-cutting, the garter toss or Tori miraculously catching the bouquet. Of course, if she hadn’t made the grab, the cascading flowers would have hit her dead in the face. No doubt, the whole thing had been rigged by the bride.
And most likely, those final few moments in Mitch’s presence would be her last, at least for a while. She didn’t plan to return to Quail Run until after the birth of Stella’s baby. She could manage that visit in a day and never even have to run into him, if she was unlucky.
Resting her palms on the top of the mop handle, Tori muttered, “Stubborn man. Stubborn, sexy man.” Not only would she have to return to work without the story of the decade, she would also have to face her boss with the news that she hadn’t been successful. She should’ve asked Mitch first before she’d called Renee yesterday morning about the possibilities. Oh, well. The plan had been a good one, even if it hadn’t come to fruition.
“Time to go, Cinderella. Looks like Prince Charming isn’t going to show. If we don’t hurry, you’ll miss your plane.”
Tori looked up to see Stella standing in the hall, holding Tori’s battered black duffel against her chest. She propped the mop by the back door and frowned. “You don’t need to be lifting anything, Stella.”
“You sound just like Bobby.” She held out the bag. “Here.”
Tori took the duffel and headed toward the door. She turned and scanned the house one more time, proud that she’d accomplished so much with so little sleep. The sounds of Bobby’s and Stella’s official consummation the night before hadn’t plagued her as much as thoughts of Mitch. She doubted those would dissipate any
time in the near future, even after she was back to business as usual.
Tori opened the screen and stepped out into the sunshine—then nearly fell off the porch. Leaning against his truck, Mitch Warner looked as gorgeous in the daylight as he did deep in the night. Funny, she hadn’t even considered that she’d never seen him during the day. And she sure as heck hadn’t considered he would actually show up considering the time. She would forgive him his tardiness. Forgive him just about anything. How could she not pardon a man in faded denim and blue flannel that matched his eyes, his arms folded over his broad chest and his long legs crossed at the ankles stretched out before him? How could she ever forget the picture he now presented? Picture. Darn, her camera was in the front seat of the car. Otherwise she might take a shot or two as a souvenir. Probably not a great idea since he wasn’t exactly smiling.
When he didn’t bother to move or speak, Tori strolled to Stella’s car and slid her bag into the open trunk on the off chance that his sudden appearance involved a friendly visit, not a business proposition. If he had decided to nix her offer, she would be gracious. She didn’t feel the need to hold anything against him—except maybe her body.
Cut it out, Tori.
If he did happen to agree to her proposal, from now on she couldn’t afford to entertain any lascivious thoughts about Mitch Warner. Or at least she couldn’t be obvious about it.
After Tori straightened her shoulders and closed the trunk, she turned to face Mitch. “Good morning, Mr. Warner.”
He pushed off the truck and approached her slowly. “Sorry I’m late. I’m running behind this morning.”
Tori’s heart was running at full speed. “That’s okay. Cleanup took longer than we thought.” After waiting for confirmation, Tori glanced over her shoulder to find Stella had disappeared back into the house, evident by the slamming of the screen door. Some friend.
When she brought her attention back to Mitch, she noticed he’d moved closer. She also noticed that his eyes looked tired. Translucent blue, but tired. He also had a day’s worth of dark beard blanketing his jaw and surrounding his lips. That would mean some heavy-duty whisker burn if she kissed him. However, she was not going to do that again, even if the temptation was stronger than the morning sun.