He was certain some psychiatrist would label his aversion as some sort of denial, inability to cope…who the hell knew or cared? He felt what he felt. That’s all there was to it.
He didn’t need to analyze it, label it, or dissect it. Probably the reason he avoided people. He didn’t want someone to look into his eyes and see the dark man he’d become.
He watched as she drank her margarita, the silence easing between them, her eyes taking on a winsomeness, and he figured she was reliving moments spent with her husband. Damn, he didn’t like the man, and he didn’t even know him. Didn’t want to know him.
“A few doors down is a place with a dance floor. You interested?” he asked.
Abruptly she stopped sipping her drink, and a bubble of laughter floated toward him. The sweet sound would have drawn him in and held him captive if he wasn’t working so hard to not be offended that she was laughing at him.
“A private joke?” he asked.
She bobbed her head. “Sort of. More like perfect timing. My dad and I were talking this afternoon and he said that I needed to dance more. And here you suggest dancing.” She shook her head slightly, her smile bright. “It just seemed destined or something. I don’t know. Fate, I guess. That’s part of the reason I came back tonight. Some of the things he said.”
“Does he live in Austin?”
“On a ranch outside of Austin, near 35 toward San Marcos.”
“You’re a country girl, then?” he asked.
“Pretty much. When I was growing up, Austin was just beginning this big population spurt. I hardly recognize it when I come home. And I get disoriented going down 183. The city has changed so much.”
Everything within him stilled as he analyzed what she’d said, what she hadn’t. “You don’t live here?”
“No, I live in Hopeful. It’s a little town near Houston. Not many people have heard of it.” She trailed her finger along the glass, wiping away its dew as though she needed to collect her thoughts before meeting his gaze. “My mom passed away a couple of weeks ago. I decided to stay for a while and help my dad adjust, settle in. I’m only here for a few weeks.”
She’d just thrown him a safety net. He could continue to see her without worrying that she’d expect more than he could give. They might get a bit more involved, but in a short time their relationship—a word he couldn’t recall ever using in his association with women—would draw to a natural end. She would go home to her small town, get back to her life there, and he’d return to what he needed to do.
Calm settled over him. They’d go into this arrangement without expectations of any permanence. He’d thought he might have one more night with her, and now it seemed he could have more. He already knew he wanted more.
She didn’t make him feel awkward for having the social skills of a corpse. She didn’t push or demand. And she was hell in bed. The next time, though, he was determined that she’d realize it was him making her scream and not her dead husband.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. The words seemed trivial, and he was certain they couldn’t begin to ease her sorrow.
“I appreciate the sentiment. Last night I forgot the sadness for a while.”
“Maybe we can make that happen again.” Reaching across the table, he took her hand, threaded his fingers through hers. “Do you want to check out that club down the street?”
She gave him a smile that he was coming to recognize as one that signaled she was pleased. It radiated joy, but in a tender way, in a way that made him feel as though he was doing something that she truly liked.
“Give me a minute to finish my drink?”
He nodded, almost saying that he’d give her anything she wanted. But the words sounded too corny, and they weren’t completely true. He only had so much to give, and he only had it to give for a short time. He was scheduled to leave on a mission in a few weeks. Despite his skill and caution, there was always a chance he wouldn’t come back. The last thing she needed was to suffer another loss.
But he’d give her what he could while they were together, and he’d make certain that when they parted ways, she’d have no hard feelings. They were both going into this knowing it wouldn’t last; it was a relationship for the short-term.
And that made it something he could handle without fear of hurting her. He’d hurt enough people; he certainly had no plans to add her to the list.
Without the haze of alcohol clouding her senses, Serena understood now why she’d gone home with him last night. His eyes. A deep, dark chocolate that reminded her of the creamy fudge that she always indulged in whenever her path crossed a fudge shop during vacation. But more than the richness of his eyes was the intensity with which he watched her. As though no one else existed in the room, as though his entire concentration was focused on her, as though she were the only thing of importance in his life.
He wasn’t much for idle chitchat. But she had the feeling that she could open him up if she worked at it. She just wasn’t certain how much she really wanted to know. The more she knew about him, the more important he would become. He lived here; she lived four hours away. They wouldn’t be a world apart, but she’d had a long-distance relationship before, when Steve had been assigned overseas. The separation had almost killed her, but it was like they said—whoever they were. That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
And she had grown stronger. She’d learned to make decisions on her own, decisions that affected all three of them. She’d learned to rely on her own judgment, to be independent. She’d learned lessons she hadn’t even realized she’d needed to be taught.
And she was still learning, if the past two days were any indication. She’d certainly not expected to find herself seeking a man for a second night. But this man intrigued her as no one had before him. Not even Jack—even though for a while she’d thought she was falling in love with him.
But Jack’s voice didn’t send shivers cascading along her spine. His touch didn’t send heat swirling through her, didn’t cause an ache that demanded attention. While every aspect of the man sitting across from her held her riveted.
She was fairly certain that Hunter had been waiting for her—as though he knew her better than she knew herself. Part of her felt emboldened by her actions, and part of her simply wanted to get to know him better so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about sleeping with a stranger.
She sucked hard on the straw, drawing up the margarita, fighting back a curse as she was hit with a brain freeze.
She didn’t want to get drunk tonight, but she thought being a little more relaxed couldn’t hurt. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was headed with this man. She only knew that she was grateful that she’d come back here, more grateful that he was with her now.
She knew so little about him, and yet she felt that she knew so much. Deep creases had made themselves at home within a rugged face that she thought the elements of nature—wind, rain, sun—might have played a role in shaping. With deeply tanned skin, he gave the appearance of a man whose occupation kept him outdoors a good deal of the time. She was certain he didn’t work in an office. She remembered the rasping of his hands over her skin, could feel the coarse texture of his fingers still laced through hers. She could feel the tempered strength in his fingers, could see it in the breadth of his shoulders. His navy blue shirt fit him like a second skin. Not an ounce of fat anywhere to be seen.
She thought about engaging in a little game of twenty questions, but it seemed a little late for that, and she was loath to admit that she’d slept with a man knowing so little about him. Besides, she had a feeling he wouldn’t embrace the spirit of the game, would offer up curt answers that might in time irritate her. Better to let their relationship evolve naturally. He’d share with her what he would, when he was ready. And she’d do the same.
She certainly hadn’t come here looking for a summer fling, but she had a feeling that she might be headed into one. She was filled with a sense of anticipation, wondering how the
night might unfold. Last night had been completely out of character for her. Yet here she was again, tempting him and herself.
At least she thought she was tempting him. He seldom took his eyes off her, and he definitely had the look of a man who was pleased by what was before him. And she certainly liked her view. He exuded confidence. As she’d noted this morning, he was comfortable in his environment, with himself. She wished she could achieve that same level of contentment. Being in the bar was an uneasy fit.
“I got married right out of high school.” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to blurt that out. “I had a child before I was eighteen. I never really did the single girl scene. I’m not sure how to do it.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“No, I didn’t fool you. Not one bit.”
He shrugged. “Just be yourself.”
Being herself was soaking in the tub with a good book. She wanted more than that. But now she wanted a good man, to explore possibilities. Besides, she couldn’t imagine that Hunter would be content with all she had to offer, when she’d suddenly grown discontent with it. “I’m not explaining myself very well.”
He tightened his hold on her hand as he leaned toward her, earnestness in his eyes. “Look, Serena, I have no expectations for tonight. If it ends up being a repeat of last night, great. If not, I’m okay with that, too. I enjoy being with you.”
She liked his voice—a deep baritone that wove comfort around the syllables.
“You have simple tastes.”
He grinned, a devastatingly handsome grin. “Now how am I supposed to respond to that statement without offending you?”
She cringed, realizing how she must sound, a desperate woman who needed her confidence boosted. “I’m not fishing for compliments. I think I’m trying to redefine myself. I see myself as a widow, a mother…neither of which is particularly sexy—”
“Dang, woman, then you must not own a mirror.”
His rapid-fire response stunned her. Was she sexy?
She’d never thought of herself in that way. She’d begun to see herself as a harried mother running from scouts to soccer practice to school functions. She was a businesswoman so focused on selling her product that she never thought about selling herself.
Yet, here she was sitting with a man who she thought could have probably chosen any woman in this bar—but he’d been waiting for her. Flattered, more than she’d been in years, she smiled. “Thank you. I think.”
His grin disappeared. “You honestly don’t realize how attractive you are, do you?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way,” she admitted.
Holding her gaze, he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Trust me. I only go for the pretty ones.”
“Did you tell me that last night?”
“I don’t remember a lot of what we talked about last night. But I probably said something along the lines of ‘Are your eyes hurting? Because they’re killing me.’ ”
Laughing, she shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have used a corny pickup line like that.”
“You sure?”
She nodded, not certain why she was as sure as she was. She only knew that she was. Images of last night began to play through her mind like a collage of special moments. “You asked if I was lonely, if I wanted some company. I’ve held the loneliness at bay for a long time, and last night, it just caught up with me. But you made me smile and I hadn’t smiled in a long time.”
“That’s not all I did.”
His smile was slight, his eyes warm, his voice…satisfied, but revealing no cockiness. He took pride in what he’d accomplished—not that she could blame him when she’d been the recipient of his attentions.
No, making her smile wasn’t all he’d done. He’d had her writhing in pleasure, screaming in ecstasy. She wished she could be as comfortable with what had transpired between them last night as he was. “No, that’s not all you did,” she acknowledged.
He kissed her fingers again. “It was mutual.”
“Making you smile?”
“Everything.” He gave his head a quick nod. “Finish your drink. I’m ready to hold something other than your hand, and a dance floor should provide that opportunity.”
And she was ready to be held. She shoved her almost empty glass aside and hoped she was flashing him a seductive smile. “Then let’s go.”
He stood and took her hand, helping her to her feet, not relinquishing his claim to her as he guided her through the crowded bar. He shoved open the door and led her outside.
The sultry night air descended. Summer was here to stay. She’d always thought Austin was humid until she’d moved closer to the Texas coast. Now, she found Austin humidity pleasant.
They entered the club, still holding hands. She hadn’t expected that of him. But then she had to acknowledge that she didn’t know him well enough to understand fully what she should expect of him. She wasn’t even sure what she expected of this evening either. As he’d suggested, perhaps a repeat of last night. A few too many drinks and heading home with him.
Although truthfully, she didn’t know if she could be a one-night stand for two nights in a row. In spite of Jack’s encouragement that she should do exactly that.
As they wove through the crowd, heading for the dance floor, where the country music wasn’t punctuated with too many conversations, she wondered if he needed more than that as well, more than hungry hands and writhing bodies. If more than a woman was missing from his life, just as more than a man was missing from hers.
She longed for the quiet conversations, the trust, the pouring out of one’s hopes and dreams. She had no one to truly share her dreams with. As much as Jack cared for her, he had his own life, his own family, his own dreams.
When she and Hunter reached an empty spot on the dance floor, he took her in his arms, holding her closely. He didn’t bother to pretend that their bodies weren’t intimately acquainted—even if their hearts and souls were still strangers. She welcomed the opportunity not to pretend either.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek to his shoulder, listening to the hard pounding of his heart echoing within his chest, she decided that she liked that he was honest, with his body as well as his words.
She must have sensed that last night as well. His hands fit nicely at the small of her back, one turning downward slightly to lay claim to her bottom. Instinctively she knew he wasn’t a man who would whisper false promises.
And she needed, wanted that. As much as she needed the physical strength he offered. She felt as though she was wrapped in a cocoon of intimacy.
She remembered now that he’d managed to create the same feelings when he’d approached her table last night.
“Care for some company?” he’d asked.
And being the witty girl about town that she was…she’d only nodded.
His smile had been warm, sincere, had drawn her in. His dark eyes had held her captive. When he spoke, his low voice had resonated through her. There was power in the way he moved, but she’d never felt threatened.
She’d felt attraction: hot, burning, immediate. It was more than his handsome features, his great body. It was the way he made her feel safe.
“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” he’d asked at one point.
“Trying not to be nice,” she’d confessed.
He’d laughed, a low rumble that had increased the intimacy between them and sparked her desire.
“I can help you out there,” he’d promised.
And she’d wanted the promise fulfilled. He made her feel attractive, desirable, and in so doing, he’d become irresistible. A man who wanted her when she hadn’t felt wanted in a long time.
With his attentions, she’d suddenly felt young again, carefree. She wanted to explore her sexuality, wanted to explore him. She wanted to run her fingers over the outline of muscles visible beneath his shirt. She wanted to press her lips against his lips, taste
him. The physical attraction was undeniable, but it was more than that.
It was the same thing he was giving her tonight. Time. Time to test the waters. Time to get comfortable with the journey their bodies wanted to make. Time to allow her heart in—or to protect it if need be.
But she’d been protecting her heart for six years now. She was weary of the numbness, of looking at a man and not daring to see the potential of what they might share.
Hunter managed with his penetrating looks, his sensual touches, his slow journeys to stir to life everything that had died with Steve—a young girl’s dreams with all the possibilities that life had to offer. In a heartbeat, she’d grown old. She’d buried her femininity. She’d focused her entire being on her son.
And in one night, Hunter had managed to reawaken all that had lain dormant for so long. More importantly, being with him had made her realize that she’d denied her own needs for far too long. She’d set them aside, pretended that they didn’t exist.
Irrational guilt pricked her conscience. Steve was gone. It was long past time to move on, to go forward. But the going forward hurt because it meant leaving him behind.
She kept his memory alive for his son, and in so doing, she’d kept him alive for herself. His son had gone so long without a father, had relied on her to be both parents. But she was tired of being alone, tired of relying on Jack to be the pseudo man in her life. She needed a real man of warm flesh, hot blood, passionate kisses.
“You all right?” Hunter’s deep voice rumbled near her ear, while his hands moved comfortingly over her back, drawing her nearer when it was almost impossible for them to be any closer unless they removed their clothes.
She tilted her head back, held his intense dark gaze, and forced herself to smile, not wanting to disclose the unsettling direction of her thoughts. “It’s just been a long while since I danced. Steve wasn’t much of a dancer.”
Smooth talking stranger Page 5