Hot Texas Nights

by Janice Maynard

  When they were alone again, Aria gave him a wicked, mocking smile. “Prove it,” she said.

  He felt befuddled, perhaps by the fact that all the blood in his body had rushed south. “Prove what?”

  “That you’re not afraid.”

  There was no avoiding her challenge. Had he ever known her at all, or had she changed? This was a sexual gauntlet, thrown down by the woman he had thought was passive...perhaps even repressed.

  Her sharp-eyed gaze said otherwise. Beneath the fuzzy fabric of her sweater, her nipples budded tightly, signaling her response to their verbal foreplay. His forehead beaded with sweat. “Well, I—”

  “I have champagne at my house,” she said quietly. “It was supposed to be for my parents’ anniversary, but they took off on a cruise, and we never had a party for them. The bottle has been collecting dust. I’d like to pop the cork in your honor tonight. What do you say?”

  What he was supposed to say was no. Nothing had changed. He and Aria were longtime friends. Sex was not on the table.

  Could he go to her house, drink a single glass of champagne to celebrate his big day and then go home?

  Doubtful. But he was going to do it, anyway. Because he couldn’t resist her smile. Or the naughty twinkle in her eyes. Or the way she smelled—like vanilla and something darker, more sensual.

  “Sure,” he croaked. “I guess I’ve got time for one glass. Are you still at the same address?”

  “Still there,” she said. She slipped her arms into her coat and signed the credit-card slip Amanda had unobtrusively placed on the table.

  Ethan frowned. “I should have bought your dinner,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention.” The truth was, he’d been so focused on Aria that he never even noticed her taking her credit card out of her purse.

  “Don’t be silly. This isn’t a date.” She slid out of the booth and stood, fluffing her hair out over the collar of her winter jacket. In addition to the sweater, she was wearing jeans and black leather, knee-high boots with three-inch heels that boosted her modest height. “I’ll meet you at my place.” And then she was gone, whisked out the door on another blast of cold air.

  Ethan stood as well, feeling as if he’d been hit over the head with a board. What just happened?

  He made his way to the counter. “Hey, Amanda. You never brought me my check.”

  The attractive diner owner grinned. “Aria bought your dinner.”

  He gaped. “How? Why?”

  “She scribbled a note on her check. Said she wanted to celebrate your big coup. I heard about the new project. Congratulations.”

  “Word travels fast,” he muttered.

  “Well, it does in Royal, that’s for sure.”

  Ethan left the diner in a daze. Something pulled at him, some inexorable force. Call it destiny or curiosity or plain male lust. Whatever it was, he couldn’t ignore its appeal.

  He was headed for Aria Jensen’s house, and the two of them were going to drink champagne.

  The drive was short. Less than fifteen minutes. When he pulled up in front of the bungalow-style home, there was a parking space at the curb. This section of Royal dated back to the 1930s. Many of the houses had been renovated and restored to their original glory.

  Aria’s was brick with white trim and a wraparound porch. He spotted two rocking chairs and half a dozen empty planters that would be splashed with color in a few months.

  It was the kind of house that would be perfect for a family with a dog or a cat and two-point-five precocious toddlers. It wasn’t even a stretch for Ethan to imagine Aria cooking something delightful in a cozy kitchen or reading bedtime stories to a son or a daughter with sun-bleached curls.

  His stomach clenched.

  He should turn around and get back in his car. Right now.

  Every reason he had stayed away from Aria in the past still existed. He wanted her. He always had. But he’d be bad for her.

  When they were children at school, he had kept the bullies at bay and let her be the irrepressible tomboy she wanted to be. He’d protected her and cared for her and made sure she was always safe and happy.

  But when they became teenagers and then adults, he discovered the painful truth about his father’s many liaisons. His mother hadn’t spilled her guts. But Ethan had found her crying one day and had done his own detective work. The truth had curdled his stomach.

  After that, whenever he had been tempted to have his way with the luscious Aria, he had stayed away. For her own good...

  Two

  Aria kicked off her boots and put on a pair of warm bunny slippers. She told herself she wasn’t going to primp for Ethan Barringer. Even so, she tidied her windblown hair, spritzed the tiniest bit of perfume between her breasts and brushed her teeth.

  She didn’t have long.

  Just as she scuttled back downstairs, her doorbell rang. Placing a hand on her jumpy stomach, she took a deep breath. Nothing was going to happen. Ethan was a longtime friend. A sexy, gorgeous, unavailable friend.

  When she let him in, he smelled like the outdoors. Crisp and fresh and manly. She took his coat, hung it on a wooden peg nearby and waved him toward her comfy living room. “Make yourself at home,” she said. “I’ll grab the champagne and the glasses.”

  She was gone less than five minutes. When she returned, Ethan had his eyes closed, his head leaned back against the sofa and his sock-clad feet propped on her wormy chestnut coffee table. She’d bought the solid piece of furniture at an antiques fair in Austin. It was casual and chic, and to be honest, it cried out for a man’s big feet.

  The silly thought made her smile inwardly.

  “Here we go,” she said.

  Ethan looked amazing, though exhausted. He didn’t even hear her three softly spoken words, poor man. His shoulders strained the seams of a navy-and-green tattersall shirt. Dark khakis molded to powerful, masculine thighs. His navy linen sport coat was unbuttoned.

  As she watched, his flat abdomen rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing. His short dark hair had been cut recently. A day’s growth of beard shadowed his masculine jaw.

  Perhaps she should be insulted that a man—on the cusp of spending an evening with her—had fallen asleep so rapidly. In truth, though, his comfort in her home was touching.

  Ethan had always been a huge part of her life. At least until five years ago, when his work had taken him away from Royal. Even when he’d come home for the holidays, something had changed. He’d grown distant, careful, around her.

  At first, she’d thought it was because he had found someone to be serious about, and perhaps that other woman didn’t want him spending time with Aria. The truth was more daunting and less easily understood.

  Ethan didn’t have relationships. At least not in Royal. Presumably there were women in Houston. But the gossip mill characterized even those rumored liaisons as one-night stands. Strictly physical. Nothing more.

  He was alone, and he liked it that way.

  Aria sat down beside him deliberately, leaving only three or four feet between them. Ethan Barringer was the reason she had found every other romantic relationship in her life to be dull and uninspired. Her longtime crush on him was keeping her from having the kind of life she wanted and deserved. Maybe tonight’s meeting was serendipity. Or karma.

  The time for being a passive, well-behaved female was over. Something existed between Ethan and her. She was prepared to find out what it was, even if the prospect made her shiver with nerves.

  What she contemplated was the equivalent of poking a stick into a lion’s cage. You thought you were safe, but the beast might break loose and devour you.

  “Ethan.” She said his name a bit louder.

  He jerked and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry about that,” he muttered. “I’ve been running on caffeine and four hours’ sleep.”

 
; “No worries.” She handed him the bottle of champagne. “You should open it. I don’t have much experience in that area.”

  He shot her a glance. “And you think I do?” But he took the bottle, anyway.

  Their fingers brushed. Her throat dried.

  Ethan wrestled with the wire and the foil. “Shouldn’t we do this in the kitchen in case it makes a mess?”

  She put a hand on his thigh—quite deliberately—and felt the warmth of his taut muscle. “I’m prepared to live dangerously tonight.”

  Ethan stood up abruptly to wrestle with the champagne, causing her hand to fall away. Had he done it on purpose? His cheekbones were flushed with a slash of red. She could swear when she’d said the word dangerously he flinched.

  There was a loud pop, and the cork shot across the room. Ethan grabbed a glass. “I was afraid this would happen.” He rapidly poured the foaming liquid into two flutes.

  Aria used the dish towel she had brought along and mopped up the small puddle. “It’s fine.”

  Ethan handed her a glass. “Ladies first.”

  She lifted her flute and clinked it against his. “To you, Ethan. Kudos for all your hard work and everything you’ve achieved. Perry Construction is lucky to have you.”

  His smile was sheepish but pleased. “Thanks, Aria.”

  Their gazes locked as they each drained a glass. Though Aria was no connoisseur, this particular vintage was perfect for her taste. She had spent a lot on this bottle since it was supposed to be for a party. Now she was glad. “You’re welcome,” she said softly. “I’m happy we ran into each other. No one should have to celebrate alone.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. Noticeably. “More?” he asked, the word low and hoarse.

  She nodded, holding out her glass. “It’s good, isn’t it? I’ve always heard that the bubbles can make you sneeze, but I’ve never had that reaction at all. I like champagne.”

  “Most people do,” he said drily. “Or at least they pretend they do. Why else would it have a reputation for kicking off celebrations?”

  He cupped his hand around hers to steady the glass as he filled it a second time. “This will be it for me,” she said firmly, trying to pretend that she wasn’t totally flustered by the way he touched her.

  He raised an eyebrow as he released her and refilled his own glass. “No head for alcohol?”

  “I’m pretty much a lightweight,” she admitted as she took a sip. “I don’t metabolize it rapidly enough. Makes me a cheap date, though.”

  Again, he raised his glass, his gaze hooded as he stared at her. “There’s never been anything cheap about you, Aria. You’re a class act all the way.”

  The unexpected compliment startled her. Was that arousal she saw in his eyes? Hunger she heard in his voice?

  She’d only had a glass and a half of champagne. She was in complete control of her choices and her behavior. But her emotions were something else entirely. Suddenly, an almost overwhelming yearning crashed over her like a tsunami, carrying everything away in its path.

  For a moment, she was sixteen again. That was the age she had been when she’d first fallen in love with Ethan Barringer. Her parents had told her it was puppy love and that she would grow out of it. Her friends had told her he was older and too sophisticated to ever think seriously about a girl like her.

  But Aria knew Ethan. She knew his caring and his protective chivalry, for lack of a better word. She knew his honor and his devotion to his mother. And she knew the way he looked at her when he thought she wouldn’t see.

  All the way through the remainder of high school and the four years she’d spent away at college she’d carried her love for him. When she’d returned to Royal, Ethan had been back, as well. A man...no longer a boy.

  It had seemed like the time might finally be right for her and Ethan to get together. But she’d been too bashful to make a move, and Ethan had never given any indication he was interested in her romantically. He’d been friendly. But distant. He’d kept any softer emotions he might possess locked away.

  His new, blunt-edged masculinity put a wall between them. He wasn’t approachable anymore. For several years, she’d mooned after him, and then he was gone to Houston.

  It had been a difficult time in her life. She’d had to take a long, hard look at herself. Eventually, she’d made peace with the truth. Ethan wasn’t for her. Maybe he never had been.

  In the intervening years she’d dated several men. Nice guys with steady jobs and no apparent aversion to settling down eventually. But something had always been missing. Only two boyfriends had made it into her bed. The sex had been nice. Pleasurable. Not earthshaking. She’d finally decided that she had let herself be brainwashed by books and movies.

  There was no such thing as a soul mate.

  Now, a chance encounter with a man she had known since she was nine years old threatened to shred her hard-won peace.

  Ethan poured himself one last glass. The bottle was almost empty. He held it up with a question on his face. She shook her head and said, “The rest is yours.” He outweighed her significantly. It wouldn’t hurt him to drink the last of the champagne on his own.

  She set her empty crystal flute on the coffee table and watched as he finished the sparkling golden liquid. Moments later, he abandoned his glass, as well.

  Ethan was here. In her house. In touching distance. The attraction they had danced around for more than a decade could be explored without interruption. Could she do it? Could she seduce this man? Before she lost her nerve, she launched herself at him. Her arms went around his waist. Her lips found his, and she kissed him recklessly.

  He tasted like a dream come true. She had imagined this moment a million times. Now here she was. Nestled against his hard, warm chest.

  Scant moments later, reality intruded with a sickening thud, dragging her back to earth.

  Ethan had gone rigid. His lips didn’t move beneath hers. His arms were stiff at his sides.

  She staggered backward, her face hot with mortification. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as if she could erase her incredible faux pas. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I misread the signals. My bad.”

  She was babbling, but she had never been so embarrassed in her life. And so hurt.

  Ethan had actually gone white beneath his year-round bronzed skin. “Aria?”

  She held out a hand, palm up, staving off any unexpected movement on his part. “Just go. Please. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  The urge to flee was almost overpowering, but they were in her house. What if he tried to follow her? She couldn’t bear it. This was far more dreadful than any reaction she could have envisioned on his part.

  Ethan wasn’t attracted to her. She had let a stupid infatuation blind her to that fact.

  Tears welled in her eyes, tears she was determined not to shed. A woman could only endure so much humiliation.

  He took a step forward. Only one. But she froze. “Go,” she begged. “Don’t make this any worse.”

  His jaw was like iron. His eyes blazed with some strong emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Damn, Aria. Give me a minute to catch up. I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to stay away from you. You surprised me. That’s all. Lord, yes, I want you. I’ve wanted you for years. But I’ve always known that touching you would be a mistake.”

  Her stomach knotted. “Why?”

  He came to her and cupped her face in his hands. “Because once I start, I won’t want to stop. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “Oh.”

  He kissed her hard, his groan reverberating through both of them. “Are you sure about this?”

  She was trembling so hard, she felt sick. “I want you to have sex with me, Ethan.”

  There. She’d said it out loud. A confident woman who went after what she wanted.

  He cursed beneath his
breath, then took her mouth with drugging sensuality. His lips made love to hers. The man was one hell of a kisser. His thumbs caressed her jaw on both sides. Though he kept a relatively chaste distance between them, her body arched toward his, desperately trying to tip the scales in her favor.

  When he finally gave in and pulled her close, his unmistakable erection pressed against her belly. He nipped her earlobe with sharp teeth, his breath hot on her neck. “You were a delectable teenager, but you turned into one hell of a woman.”

  “You never said anything.”

  “Because you weren’t for me.”

  “And now?”

  “You still aren’t, honey. But if this is really what you want tonight, I’m your man.”

  Something about his words bothered her, but she was too distracted to read between the lines. Ethan was looking at her the way she had always dreamed that he would one day.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His chest rose and fell sharply. “Are you protected?”

  “Um, no. I haven’t been seeing anyone recently.”

  He nodded curtly. “I have two condoms in my wallet.”

  Some of the shimmer and shine of the moment wavered. She wasn’t sure what to do next. “Okay.”

  His features softened. “You can still change your mind, Aria. I didn’t come over here expecting anything more than a glass of champagne, I swear. I took your invitation at face value.”

  “That’s how I meant it,” she muttered. “My recent insanity was an impulse...because I want you.” She paused and swallowed hard. “But not if this is a pity thing. I’m not a charity case.”

  He frowned. “Why on earth would I pity you?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. It strikes me as odd that you never made a move on me before tonight.”

  He twined a lock of her hair around his finger, his smile enigmatic. “You never asked.”

  Well, heck. If she’d known it was that easy, she would have asked a long time ago. “I’m not drunk,” she said firmly. “I’m not even buzzed. I know what I’m doing.”

  His wicked grin gave her the shakes. “I’m glad we cleared that up.” He curled an arm around her waist and drew her closer. “I want you to remember every little thing I’m going to do to you,” he whispered, his breath warm against the shell of her ear. “Start to finish. Including the way you’re going to scream my name when I make you come.”