Cara Summers - Twin Temptation

Dragging her eyes back to his face, she forced her mind back to the problem that had consumed her before Jase had entered the room—what she was wearing. She raised her hands and dropped them. “What do you think?”

FOR A MOMENT Jase didn’t respond. How could he when he simply wasn’t thinking at all? His thoughts had scattered the moment he’d caught sight of her on the other side of the bed. He’d stopped in the doorway because he hadn’t trusted himself to go farther into the room.

Or perhaps it was because desire had struck him with the force of a Mack truck. When she’d loosened her braid and run her fingers through it, he’d nearly lost it. He’d grabbed the doorjamb with one hand and held on tight as his mind emptied and filled with sensations—of how that long, loose hair would feel between his fingers, on his skin.

He didn’t even know how long he’d been standing there staring at her. Long enough for him to weave a nice little fantasy about getting her out of that suit and touching her. Really touching her. He’d pictured them on that bed—this time in the daylight when they were both awake. And he knew exactly how that skin would feel—soft as rainwater, smooth as the petal of an exotic flower one might come across in the steamy jungle he’d just left.

“Well?”

Jase gathered enough of himself to note that her hands had fisted on her hips and one foot was tapping. And still he couldn’t get a word out. For the first time, something like fear moved through him.

No woman had ever tied his tongue in knots before.

“If this outfit is that bad, you’d better come right out and say it. I’m used to wearing jeans and slacks, so I don’t have much fashion sense when it comes to fancy clothes. I went for the color. But Jordan has lots of other clothes.”

Jase pulled himself together. And finally found his voice. “It’s fine.”

She studied him as she moved toward him, giving the bed a wide berth. He appreciated the strategy and took some satisfaction that he wasn’t the only one thinking about tumbling her into it.

“You’re not just saying that? You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he lied. The only thing he was really sure of was that she wasn’t going to be wearing the outfit much longer if they didn’t get out of Jordan’s bedroom. And until he found out exactly who might have run down Eva Ware, he needed to be able to think clearly. Still, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from raking her one more time. “Are you going to be able to walk in those shoes?”

She glanced down at them. “Yeah, I’ve got that under control, I think.”

Control. That was the key word, Jase reminded himself. He released his grip on the doorjamb, flexed his fingers to assure himself that they were still there. Last but not least, he dragged his gaze away from the bed and led the way out of the room.

TRUE TO FORM, New York City traffic was crawling along at less than a snail’s pace. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Maddie was staring wide-eyed out the open window of the taxi, craning her neck to take in the buildings, the people, and breathing in the mix of scents—hot pavement, rotting garbage, exhaust fumes—that he took for granted.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly ten. Even though it was only a twenty-block walk to Eva Ware Designs, he’d decided in deference to her shoes to hail a cab. But what should have been a five-minute cab ride was stretching into thirty. Even in the ankle-breakers she was wearing, they could have easily arrived at the jewelry store by now.

Brakes squealed as the car in front of them came to an abrupt stop. Someone stepped out of the passenger door and hurried into a small store that specialized in fresh produce. Their cabbie leaned on his horn and shouted something out the window in a language Jase wasn’t familiar with. Glancing out the rear window, Jase could see that their taxi was neatly boxed in.

He looked at Maddie and saw that she was staring at a policeman astride a horse. They hadn’t said much to each other since they’d left the building. She’d been intent on drinking in the sights, and he’d welcomed the reprieve of just being away from the apartment. They’d have to go back there eventually and good idea or not, he was sure that they were going to end up in bed together again.

He’d never met a woman who pulled at him the way she did. Even now his hand was fisted on the seat because he wanted to reach out and touch her. Just to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or to run a finger down her throat.

But that wouldn’t be enough. He’d need more. And he’d have more. It might be the biggest mistake of his life, but one way or another, he did intend to make love with Maddie Farrell again.

Right now, he had to put that aside and switch gears. She still had her eyes on the mounted policeman, and he reminded himself that she had just switched places with her sister and was feeling her way through a strange, new world. Maybe he could help with that.

“In the file she gave you, did Jordan mention that she keeps a horse on a farm just a little north of the city?”

“No.”

For the first time since they’d entered the taxi, she turned to face him. He read both surprise and interest on her face. “It’s a stallion. She bought him when she moved to the city to work for your mother. She named him Julius Caesar because he was born on the Ides of March.”

Maddie stared at him. “My horse is Brutus. What are the chances?”

“Jordan has always loved horses. She started riding lessons when she was six, and she was a natural. She began competing two years after that and didn’t give it up until she started college.”

A small frown creased Maddie’s forehead. He’d seen the same expression before when she was carefully considering something.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“It’s just…odd. No, ironic is a better word.”

“For what?”

The frown on her forehead deepened. “I love riding, and I enjoy living on a ranch, but I’ve discovered that my real passion is designing jewelry. And Jordan seems to have a passion for horses and riding the way my father did. From what I saw on her bookshelf, they even share a passion for westerns.”

“You’re thinking they picked the wrong daughters when they made their choices.”

She nodded.

Even though he knew it was a mistake, he took her hand in his. “I doubt that either your father or your mother would feel that way.”

HE UNDERSTOOD. Something tightened in Maddie’s throat. Even though her hand was clasped lightly in his, she was aware of the pressure of each one of his fingers. But it wasn’t a sizzle of passion that moved through her blood. This time it was something warmer and much sweeter. He leaned toward her and brushed the merest hint of a kiss over her lips.

Without thinking, she raised her free hand to his face—to push him away? To keep him there?

Before she could decide, he drew back and said, “Do you think you can manage three blocks on foot?”

Maddie frowned at her feet. “No promises, but I’m game to try. After all, I’m supposed to be walking around in Jordan’s shoes.”

He grinned at her. “She always wore her sneakers when she walked to work and carried the ankle-breakers in her bag.”

Maddie glared at him. “You might have told me that before we left the apartment.”

“It’s only a couple more blocks.” Jase passed the taxi driver two bills. Then he grabbed Maddie’s hand again and pulled her with him to the sidewalk. As they blended into the flow of pedestrians headed uptown, a cacophony of noise enveloped them—horns blaring, engines thrumming, one-sided snatches of conversations as passersby chatted into their cell phones.