Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan Page 13

  He laughed. “You’re happy. I like that.”

  She dropped her hands to her sides, feeling just a little bit foolish. “Yeah. But I know that sometimes I do get carried away.”

  “It’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with being happy—and showing it.” For a few lovely, breathless seconds, he stared at her and she stared back at him. Finally, he said, “So…I was thinking tomorrow, as soon as I get back from playing golf with Grant and Connor, you’ll call Bonnie Drake and say you’d like to see the bakery. I want to go with you, if that’s all right.”

  “Um. Go with me?”

  “Yeah—when you see the place, when you meet with Bonnie. Don’t worry, I won’t interfere. But it never hurts to have backup when you’re making an important deal, or to have a sounding board when it gets down to negotiating.”

  It was so generous of him. She’d been thinking she would need to get her own Realtor for this. But Bonnie Drake had already done business with him and knew he was one of the rich Texas Traubs. If Ethan had her back, well, she felt okay about going directly through the Drake woman.

  And suddenly, she just couldn’t stop herself. She yanked him close and hard. “Kiss me, Ethan. Kiss me now.” She didn’t wait to see if he would follow her instructions. No way. She leaned in fast and she pressed her mouth to his.

  He made a low noise in his throat, a growly sort of sound, a very…exciting sort of sound, actually.

  And then his big arms came around her and he was holding her as hard as she held him and they were kissing and kissing.

  Oh, it was wonderful. Lovely. So thrilling.

  To have his arms around her again, to feel his hard chest crushing her breasts, and also, well, that other hardness, lower down, the one that proved he really did like her—and not just as a friend.

  It was wonderful, fabulous, to kiss him and kiss him some more, with his breath so warm in her mouth and their tongues all tangled up together.

  At last! she was thinking. She really didn’t care what the future might bring right then. She wanted Ethan. She wanted him now.

  But then he took her face in his two hands and broke the magical, beautiful kiss. “Lizzie…” He sounded almost regretful.

  Huh? What was there to regret? Everything was going along just fine as far as she was concerned. With a groan, she leaned in and tried to capture his lips again.

  He didn’t let her. “Lizzie.” He said her name more insistently that time.

  With another groan, a frustrated one, she opened her eyes. “Oh, Ethan. What?”

  He looked at her so intently, his dark eyes soft and tender. And she did love it when his lips were red from kissing her. It made her feel limp and yearning and lovely inside.

  But then he spoke. “I don’t think we should rush into anything, you know?”

  Her desire-fogged mind strove to register the words—and the meaning behind them. “But I don’t get it. I thought you wanted…” Ugh. How to go on from there? Why should she even try?

  Suddenly, she was feeling much less than limp and yearning. She was starting to feel just slightly rejected.

  He spoke gently. “Lizzie…”

  “You keep saying my name. It’s not reassuring.” She took his wrists, guided them away from her and stepped back. “Sorry. I got a little carried away, I guess.” All at once, it was hard to look at him. So she didn’t. She stared down at her flip-flops.

  “Come on, Lizzie.”

  He was being sweet and considerate and she knew that. In fact, he’d been absolutely terrific to her tonight, telling her he was letting her go early, offering to help her get the property she wanted.

  She needed to get a grip on herself, to stop acting like a rejected lover. Even if that was exactly how she felt. She lifted her chin and fluffed at her hair. “Don’t tell me. It’s my hair. Or maybe these ancient sweats, huh? I’m not exactly dressed for seduction.”

  A grin tried to pull at the side of his mouth. “Your hair is adorable. I love those sweats.”

  “Hah. Nothing about me is adorable. I’m more the…sturdy type. The kind of woman you can count on.”

  “Yes, you are. But you’re also adorable.”

  She couldn’t resist asking, “So how come you don’t drag me up to your room and have your way with me?” He opened his mouth to answer and then apparently changed his mind. “What?” she demanded. “Say it. Please.”

  He shook his head. “You should be sure, that’s all.”

  “How much more sure can a woman get? I just threw myself at you, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Oh, I noticed.”

  “Well, then?”

  “It doesn’t seem right.”

  She couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Right? Now you’re worrying about whether it seems right? For over two weeks now, you’ve made it more than clear that all I have to do is say the word. So finally, I did, I said the word. And all of a sudden, you’re into the ethics of the whole thing.”

  “I’ve been thinking, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, got that. You’ve been thinking way too much, if you ask me.”

  “You’re my assistant. How tacky is that, to be sleeping with my assistant? How…predictable, you know?”

  She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “You won’t make love with me because it would be predictable?”

  “Don’t make fun of me. Please. I’m trying to do the right thing here, in case you didn’t notice.”

  “Well, you’re kind of oversharing.”

  Now he looked glum. “I am?”

  “Yeah, a little. And think of it this way, if everything goes according to plan, I won’t be your assistant for all that much longer. So maybe this thing with us isn’t as tacky and predictable as you seem to think.”

  “It’s not only that.”

  “Oh, great.” She blew hair out of her eyes again. “How did I know there was more?”

  “We don’t want the same things, Lizzie. I’m not…your kind of guy. We both agree that I’m not.”

  “So? That didn’t seem to bother you before.”

  “Like I said, I’ve been thinking. About the consequences of my possible actions.”

  “Well, that’s new and different.”

  “Could you just not insult me? Please.”

  “Sorry. Really. Go on.”

  “You’re important to me, Lizzie. I don’t want to lose you, you know? And when it ends…”

  Okay, that hurt. “When, huh? Not if? Couldn’t there be just a little bit of if in this whole situation?”

  “Lizzie, I’m thirty-seven years old. I’ve never once even considered getting married. My relationships with women have the shelf life of an avocado with the skin peeled off.”

  She hated to hear him say that, mostly because it was true. “But…what if you wanted to change?”

  “We’ve been through this. You know that I really like my life the way it is. There have to be statistics out there on guys like me, statistics that say a woman is more likely to get hit by a runaway train than to make a lasting relationship with someone like me.”

  She could really start to get annoyed with him about now. “I think you have a few more years before you become a statistic. Give yourself a little credit, will you?”

  “I’m just trying to be realistic, that’s all. And come on, don’t look at me like that.”

  “I can’t help it. You make it all sound so hopeless.”

  His expression remained painfully somber. “Not hopeless. Just not especially promising.”

  She hated that he was right. And she did give him credit for holding back, for trying not to get something started between them that could ruin their friendship—especially now that they knew they were going to be living in the same small town. He had a point, he truly did. She should be considering how important their friendship was, too.

  She gave it up. “You’re right. We don’t need to go rushing into anything.” She reached out and clasped his shoulder, the gesture
of a friend. And she studiously ignored the little thrill she got just from putting her hand on him. Because she was his friend. And she intended to stay his friend. No matter what. “Thanks in great part to you, I have a big day tomorrow.”

  He made a low noise in his throat. “Yeah, you do.”

  “I want to be at the top of my game for it.”

  And finally, he smiled. “I hear you.”

  “So I think I’ll go to bed now. Alone.”

  “Good idea.” He reached out then, wrapped his big hand gently around the back of her neck and pulled her in close. “Good night, Lizzie.” He pressed his warm lips to her fore head.

  It felt so good, his hand against her nape, his lips on her skin, the warmth of his fine body so close. She really, really wanted to tip her chin up just enough that his mouth could meet hers.

  But no.

  They were friends. They weren’t rushing into anything. And she had a big day tomorrow.

  She stepped back. He let her go. It caused a small ache within her, to lose the press of his lips on her flesh, the lovely clasp of his hand on her nape. “Good night, Ethan.”

  And she turned and left him there.

  Chapter Ten

  Ethan watched her go, a tall, no-nonsense woman in baggy gray sweats. Her hair was kind of mashed in the back.

  He’d never seen anyone so beautiful—going or coming.

  He wanted…everything for her. The rich, full life she deserved. In this great little town where she already had about a hundred friends. Now he’d finally realized that he couldn’t bear to hold her back, he wanted her to have the bakery of her dreams.

  Not only wanted, but he was also going to make it happen.

  He went over to the wet bar, put some crushed ice in a glass and added two fingers of good scotch. He sipped the drink slowly, feeling pretty good about himself in spite of the ache in his jeans.

  Sometimes a guy just did what was right for a really good person. Sometimes a guy chose a great friendship over a hot roll in the sack because there were other things in life that mattered more than sex.

  Yeah, there were times when he got a little hazy on that, on what could matter more than sex. But not now, not when it came to Lizzie.

  Tomorrow, if no unforeseen issues cropped up, she would buy herself a bakery. And after that, he’d get two last weeks with her—well, twelve days, to be exact. Until the fifth of July.

  And when she was no longer working for him, they could still keep their friendship. Because he wasn’t going to mess up what he had with her.

  He was going to keep his hands off her. Just enjoy her company. And leave it at that.

  When Ethan returned from the resort at ten the next morning, Lizzie was sitting at the kitchen table wearing a slim tan skirt and a silk shirt the exact color of her gray-green eyes. Her hair was smooth, tamed-looking. Her makeup was light as always. A little bit of shadow to bring out her eyes, and gloss on her lips that made them look wet.

  Wet and much too kissable.

  Forget the kissable, he commanded himself. He wasn’t going to be thinking about kissing her. He wasn’t going to imagine messing up her hair so it got wild the way he liked it best, or think about slowly unbuttoning that silvery-green shirt, spreading it open, unclasping her bra and seeing her breasts for the very first time.

  Uh-uh.

  That wasn’t what they were about, him and Lizzie.

  She had a glowing, self-satisfied smile on her face. “So how was the golfing?”

  “It’s a great course. The fairways are tight.”

  “Uh. Good to know.”

  “Spoken like a woman who knows zip about golf. And let me guess, you already called Bonnie.”

  Her smile widened. “I did. She says she can meet us there at eleven.”

  “Well, all right.”

  “Did you get breakfast?”

  “Yeah, at the Grubstake. I’ll just jump in the shower and be ready in plenty of time.”

  Everything went as Ethan intended it to.

  They met the Realtor in front of the bakery and she let them in. It was an attractive little shop, with high, pressed-tin ceilings and wide plank floors. In the front area, Lizzie spent a lot of time behind the counter, checking out the display cases, the cold cases, the bread slicer, the cash register, the vintage Italian espresso machine.

  In the back, she had to open every door and get a close look at each piece of equipment. That took over an hour, after which they went down the hallway to the back exit, pausing to have a look inside both of the restrooms, and then going on outside to see the good-size parking lot that the bakery shared with the gift shop next door.

  There was extra storage upstairs, as well as a two-bedroom shotgun-style apartment. The living room of the apartment was in the front, overlooking Main Street, and was roomy and bright with the same wide plank floors as in the shop below. Lizzie seemed charmed by the farm-style sink in the kitchen and the checkerboard linoleum on the kitchen floor. The one bath had an old claw-foot tub with a shower attachment added on.

  Throughout the tour of the property, Ethan hung back as he’d told her he would. It was Lizzie’s deal, after all. He was only there to make certain she got what she wanted at a reasonable price. As he watched her turning on faucets, peering into closets and cabinets and even the oven, he tried to picture her living there.

  The kitchen was really small, more of a hallway than a room, nothing like the expansive, state-of-the-art kitchens she’d run living with him. How could she be satisfied with such a dinky little space to do her cooking and endless baking in?

  But then he had to admit that he was only being negative. She would have the whole bakery downstairs in which to practice her love of cooking. She probably wouldn’t need any more of a kitchen in her living space than the apartment provided.

  The bedrooms were not especially exciting. One was in the center of the space, with a single window that gave a view of the brick wall next door. But the larger one, in the back, had two windows overlooking the parking lot and a nice view of State Street and beyond.

  Bonnie Drake said the French baker, Aubert Pelletier, was willing to sell everything in the place. Lizzie told the Realtor she’d keep that in mind.

  Once the tour was finally finished, Bonnie had to rush off to another appointment, but she said she’d be free that afternoon in case Lizzie had more questions for her. Ethan and Lizzie went to lunch at the Hitching Post. He watched her across the table. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes had a definite gleam in them.

  “Well?” he asked, once the waitress had served them their burgers.

  “I want it.” She popped a French fry into her mouth. “I’m buying that bakery.”

  He laughed. “I kind of had a feeling you were.”

  They discussed what she should offer and the state of the equipment, which Lizzie said was excellent. “One thing that baker knew, it was equipment. All the best brands and all of it in great condition.”

  “So you think you’re ready to make your offer?”

  “Oh, yes, I do.”

  So at four that afternoon, in Bonnie’s office at Thunder Creek Real Estate, Lizzie submitted her offer on Aubert Pelletier’s bakery. She would put down a significant amount in cash and she had a letter from a local banker acquired an hour earlier with Ethan’s help that guaranteed her a loan for the balance.

  Lizzie wanted to take possession on the fifth of July, when she would move into the apartment upstairs and start working furiously toward the day when the Mountain Bluebell Bakery opened for business.

  Aubert Pelletier, who was currently staying in New York, would have forty-eight hours to take the offer or to counter. Bonnie assured Lizzie that she was in close contact with the bakery’s owner and that Pelletier was eager to settle all his business in the United States and be on his way back home.

  When they left Bonnie’s office, Ethan suggested they go out to celebrate.

  “Uh-uh,” said Lizzie. “Not until the deal is done.”r />
  “What? You’re afraid you might jinx it by celebrating too early?”

  She laughed and put her hand against his mouth. “Shh. Don’t even say that word.”

  Her fingers were so cool and soft. He wanted to kiss them, but he didn’t. He gently pushed her hand away and teased, “Celebrate? I shouldn’t say celebrate?”

  “Ha-ha.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I want to go home, if you don’t mind.”

  Home. He found himself thinking that in no time at all, she’d be calling that dinky apartment over the bakery her home. He didn’t like that much, but he knew he had to get used to it. Lizzie was moving on and his job as her friend was to support her in that.

  She added, “I’d like a nice, quiet evening to…come to grips with the huge step I just took.”

  He knew what she was really saying. “You want to cook. It will relax you.”

  Her eyes shone, green as spring grass. “You know me so well.”

  He ached to reach for her, to pull her close, to kiss her, right there on Cedar Street, and not care that anyone driving by might see.

  But he didn’t. He remembered the objective: to do what was best for Lizzie.

  And kissing her was not it.

  They went back to the house. Lizzie made lasagna and garlic bread and a fresh green salad. He opened a bottle of Chianti and they toasted to change and a bright, exciting future for each of them.

  When dinner was over, he helped her clear the table and then he went to his office to take care of some paperwork. When he came out at ten, the house was quiet, the kitchen dark.

  He drank a glass of water from the tap and stood at the counter, staring into the dimness, thinking that it was going to be very strange to live in a house without Lizzie. He wasn’t really looking forward to that.

  But he would manage. Eventually, he would get used to the new order of things. He would adjust.

  “Come with me to the resort this afternoon.”

  Lizzie glanced up from her computer at her desk off the kitchen. It was a little after eleven Thursday morning. “Yes. Anything to take my mind off watching the clock, waiting for the phone to ring with Aubert Pelletier’s response to my offer….”