Sandy Steen - Meet Me In Texas

Del frowned. “You think so?”

“It’s possible.” The frown didn’t go unnoticed, and Allison suspected the idea of someone claiming the dog didn’t exactly thrill Del, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

She glanced around. “Well, I must say this is the best this house has looked in years, even if it is empty.”

Del laid her coat over his unopened duffel bag. “That’s right. You knew the previous owners.”

“Pre-previous. Rudy, my best friend all through high school and my first two years of college, lived here with her grandparents. I was devastated when she moved away.”

For the briefest of seconds, Del had thought this Rudy was a boy, and his reaction had been instantaneous and unwelcome. Allison was barely more than a kid, but he’d reacted like a man who was interested in a woman. The same as he had last night at the clinic when he’d first seen her. Not a good thing, he cautioned himself. Now that he knew who she was, he had to get those thoughts right out of his head. “It, uh, hasn’t sat empty for very long. Who lived here after your friend?”

“A young couple,” Allison told him. “They’re the ones that restored the place.” Again, she glanced around. “I love the arts-and-crafts style, don’t you? There’s such strength and beauty in its simplicity.”

“Yeah. I took one look at this house and knew it was for me.”

She walked over to a built-in hutch atop a buffet and ran her fingertips over the leaded glass inserts of the doors. “Exquisite. It’s like stroking a piece of sculpture. Or a perfectly toned human body.”

Del looked at her, surprised at her description. It so closely matched his own thoughts about the magnificent woodworking of the arts and crafts movement.

Her fingers continued moving over the piece. “The wood even warms to the touch like flesh. I can almost visualize the craftsman working on this piece. Cutting, sanding, painstakingly laboring to bring it to its full promise and glory, cherishing each stroke.” She looked at Del. “Almost like making love to a woman.”

Del prided himself on being able to handle almost any situation that came along, but he hadn’t expected to hear her speak so plainly. Poetically, but plainly. It reminded him again that he was dealing with a woman, not the young girl he remembered. “You must be cold,” he said. “Why don’t you go over to the fire?”

“Good idea.” She crossed the room and stood before the fireplace, extending her hands to warm them. A few seconds later she straightened, slipped her hands, palms out, into the back pocket of her jeans and turned to him. “Much better,” she said, arching her back in a brief stretch.

Del’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. If he’d needed a reminder about her status as a woman, this was it.

He’d found her attractive last night, with that stunning smile and nice legs, but her smock prevented him from checking out the rest of her. Well, he was getting a good look now. Allison Russell might have been all arms and legs and barely out of her tomboy stage the first time they met, but standing there before the fireplace, she was unquestionably all woman. Her thick brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Tight, well-worn jeans hugged her slender hips and long legs, but it was her sweater that got his attention. More specifically, the curves beneath it. Allison Russell was sexy, gorgeous and mature. Oh yeah, mature. That was it. And in all the right places.

“Are you hungry?”

“What?” Del knew he’d been caught staring. This wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. She was too young and he was old enough to know better.

“I said, are you hungry? Lynn’s cinnamon rolls are not to be missed, and I make an above-average cup of coffee, if I do say so myself.”

“Uh, yeah. Sounds good.”

She walked over to the bag and pulled out the thermos and two mugs and set them on the hearth. Then she lifted out a rectangular canvas bag, set it beside the mugs and opened it to reveal a disposable foil pan containing a half-dozen fresh-baked sweet rolls. “Better get ’em while they’re warm,” she said, putting two on a paper plate and handing him a plastic fork.

He crossed the room and took the plate. “Thanks. Aren’t you going to join me?”

“I’ve had my breakfast already, so they’re all yours.”

She ran a hand through her hair again and the firelight flickered across the glossy curls, even in the morning light. Del wished she wouldn’t do that. His reaction was immediate and totally male. But could he help it if she looked like a wild gypsy about to dance before an open fire? The fact she was a woman now—and a damned gorgeous one—hit Dell once again. Seeing her like this, he felt the difference in their ages more than ever and decided it was a good thing. That and the fact that she was Sam and Lynn Russell’s daughter would help him remember she was off limits.

“I can’t get over how much you’ve changed,” he said without thinking.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. You don’t mind if I sit on your bed, do you?”

“Uh, no. Go right ahead. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a sofa or a chair.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly and gave him a melting smile. “Thanks. This is just fine.”

Damn, but she had a great smile. Sort of sweet and sexy at the same time. He wondered if all the young guys in the Hill Country had gone blind. What else could account for the fact that she was still running around unattached and so tempting. So very tempting… Del stopped himself. He was doing it again. Thinking like a guy on the make. He stabbed the plastic fork into the cinnamon roll and took a bite. “Delicious.”

“I’ll pass on your compliments to the chef. By the way,” she said, “last night you mentioned a new business. Do you mind if I ask what kind?”

He hesitated for a second, knowing he had to announce his plans sometime. “Building supplies.”

“You mean like a lumberyard?”

“Sort of. Actually, I bought the old lumberyard at the north end of town, but I’m going to turn it into a green business and market recycled and environmentally safe products. Whatever is good for the environment will be for sale at Evergreen.”

“So, you’re committed to saving the planet’s resources. I like that. And I like the name. Nice marketing touch.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“The Hill Country is the perfect place for your business. This part of the state is in a building frenzy.”

“Definitely.”

“When do you expect to open to the public? Or will you just sell to contractors?”

“Evergreen’s doors will be open to all comers,” he said, “and you’re the first person in Crystal Creek that I’ve told.”

“I’m honored, Del. Thank you.”

“It’s been a long time in the planning and it’s going to take months of hard work and long hours before I can open. That’s the main reason I can’t take on the responsibility of a dog right now.”

“Yeah, but admit it. After a day dealing with vendors, construction problems and deadlines, wouldn’t it be nice to come home to a friendly wag and someone glad to see you?”

“I just hope that’s all I have to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t kid myself that everybody in the business community will welcome me with open arms. Sometimes new ideas are accepted right off the bat, but this is a fairly conservative town.”

“You mean if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right?”

“Right. People get used to doing things a certain way and often fight change solely because it is change.”

“Are you expecting opposition?”

“You never know. Integrating environmentally safe building materials and practices into a traditional system means someone would lose money somewhere along the way. It might not sound like much, but if you think of supplying materials for a half-million-dollar-home or a multimillion-dollar housing development, it adds up to a chunk of money. Plus, I know I’ll be considered an outsider who doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.”