Liz Talley - A Little Texas

She raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “I only take it when I feel anxious.”

“You want a drink?”

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning.” Her voice sounded sleepy, reminding him of rumpled bedsheets and lazy morning sex. Not good. This was Justus’s daughter. No sense in fantasizing about her.

“I meant a Coke or something.”

Kate laughed. It was a smoky laugh. He felt himself grow semierect. Shit. What was wrong with him?

“Now I know you’re from Texas. You called a soda a Coke.”

He blinked at her. She was an odd one. Or maybe the medication was making her loopy. And talkative. He could have sworn she hated his guts.

She fell silent and fumbled for her lap belt. Rooting around, her hand bumped his thigh, which only served to heighten the flash of desire he felt for her. He reached down and grabbed the belt before she could slip her hand beneath his ass and pull it out.

“Sorry,” he commented, reaching over and snapping the belt into the end she held against her stomach. He got a whiff of her perfume as he pulled away. Something expensive. And sexy. It made him want to dip his head closer and smell her hair or the silkiness of her collarbone where the perfume had no doubt been applied.

“Thanks,” she muttered before opening a book.

He spent several minutes studying her out of the corner of his eye as she read. She’d shown up in tight jeans and an even tighter yellow shirt that wrapped her torso and cupped her small breasts. Yesterday, her hair had been spiky, tinted blue. Today, it was a mass of raven curls, making her look younger and softer. Dangly earrings brushed her shoulders. Her legs, encased in brown high-heeled boots, were crossed at her ankles.

Finally the engines roared to life, causing the huge 737 to thrum with power. He glanced at Kate’s book. The cover showcased shadowy figures behind a blood splattered dagger. Horror? Thriller? He couldn’t decide, but he’d never seen anyone so engrossed in a book. She hadn’t moved.

Then he looked at her face.

Her eyes were closed. Not reading. Her nostrils flared lightly as she took calm measured breaths. Her knuckles weren’t white from the suspense in the book.

He pried her fingers from the book, closing it and tossing it toward her crinkled-looking bag. Her eyes flew open.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” he said, wrapping one of her cold hands in his. Her small hand felt delicate. It also seemed clammy. He threaded his fingers through hers and gave her hand a squeeze.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it when he gave her a nod.

“Thanks,” she whispered as the plane began its taxi down the long expanse of runway.

Rick thought about winding an arm about her, but that would be stepping over a boundary he shouldn’t cross. He shouldn’t care about this woman who’d stooped to blackmail her own father. He shouldn’t enjoy the feel of her hand in his so much.

But he did.

Even as his rational mind threw up a roadblock, he squeezed her hand again as the wheels left the ground. She glanced at him.

Her blue eyes were twin pools of vulnerability.

“No problem,” he said.

She pressed her lips together and nodded.

The plane hit a pocket of air and tilted ever so slightly. Kate took deep breaths as they climbed higher and higher. He rubbed small circles on her wrist with his thumb, offering what little comfort he could, but enjoying the hell out of her tender skin.

They hit one final air pocket before leveling out. Kate let loose her breath. “Okay. Okay. We made it.”

“Yep, we made it.” He released her hand.

Kate looked at him. “No problem.”

But he couldn’t respond because he knew there was a problem. And her name was Kate. And she was Justus’s daughter. And she had Ryan’s eyes. And she stirred some tucked away feeling of protection.

It didn’t help that she wore tight-ass jeans and lowcut sexy shirts. That she pranced around in teetering heels, smelling of spicy earthiness. That she knew how to handle a man.

He had to resist her, so he didn’t say a word. Because he knew.

Big problem.

ARRIVING IN OAK STAND, Texas, felt like being tossed into a game of pickup at a state prison. At the end of the day, someone would likely get shanked. The bucolic Texas countryside framed ten square miles of hypocrites and busybodies all wrapped up in a Norman Rockwell-style package with a gingham bow. Kate felt the prying eyes and raised eyebrows as she climbed from Jack Darby’s massive pickup.

Yep. The bitch was back.

She stretched, glad the two-hour ride from the Dallas airport was over. She’d been cooped up far too long and needed to move her legs.

“You sure you want to walk to Tucker House? I don’t mind dropping you by after I make this deposit,” her friend’s husband said, doffing his baseball cap and tucking it into his back pocket. Jack looked around as if he too felt the curiosity of the townsfolk. They’d parked in front of the Oak Stand Bank and Trust, the hometown bank with a friendly smile. Service you can bank on.

“I need the walk,” Kate said, refusing to remove her sunglasses. She didn’t need the protection from the graying sky—she needed it from the prying eyes.

Jack’s brow crinkled as he eyed her high-heeled boots. “You sure?”

“I started walking in these when I was five.”

“You had big feet, huh?” Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s it. And all the kids called me Bozo,” Kate drawled, grabbing her purple Balenciaga handbag and slamming the truck door. “I know the way.”

Nellie’s husband threw her a salute much as Jeremy had earlier that day. Kate never minded a man saluting her. Even a smart-ass like Jack. The man lived to get under her skin, even though she knew he held a grudging affection for her. “See you back at the house, Katie.”

“Kate,” she said as she yanked the belt of her Burberry raincoat tighter and looked around.

Oak Stand looked about the same as it had the last time she’d visited except The Curlique Salon had gotten a new sign out front and the town square’s grass was faded yellow. That was pretty much it for change.

Tucker House wasn’t far. She could see the huge white structure across the square, right behind the statue of Rufus Tucker, founder of Oak Stand and great-great-grandfather to Nellie. She could cross through the park on the flagstone-paved path easily enough, but she decided to take the long way around to decompress a bit. Prepare herself. Everything had happened so quickly, she felt cut loose. Floating above herself.

It didn’t help that the plane ride seemed a misty memory. The Xanax she’d taken had calmed her too much. She could barely remember the journey. But she remembered Rick, the way he smelled, the way he felt next to her.

She looked down at her bare hand. She’d forgotten her gloves at home, but she hadn’t forgotten his touch. The way his thumb had stroked the skin on her wrist as the plane had climbed into the sky. Then once again as the plane prepared to land. Kate had had guys do lots of things to her hands—hold them, squeeze them, kiss them, suck her fingers—but she’d never had a man comfort them.

She tucked her hand into her coat pocket. She didn’t have time to think about Rick Mendez and the weird tingling his touch had awakened in her. She’d bought herself some time, but she needed a plan.

When Jack had pulled up to baggage claim at the airport and tossed Kate’s carry-on into the cab of his truck, she thought Rick might protest, but he held back, nodding to Jack as he passed him. Rick had told her Justus was expecting her, but she wanted to meet her biological father on her own terms. If this were some sort of a game Justus was playing, she needed home field advantage. Nellie, not Oak Stand, had always been that for her.