Tempting A Texan

The resemblance between the two of them was obvious to anyone who cared to look, Carlinda decided. Even Katie glanced back and forth between the man and the young girl who absorbed his interest, and before the end of the meal, she had shot a look of understanding at the other woman.

Nicholas pushed away from the table finally. “I believe I’ve eaten more than my share, Katie,” he said, watching as she cleared the plate from before him.

“You don’t usually eat enough,” she snipped. “About time you sat down and did my cooking justice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said obligingly, looking suitably chagrined. And then he rose and spoke kindly to Amanda. “Would you like to sit on the porch for a while?” he asked. “Or perhaps look at the stereopticon in the parlor?”

“Stere—” Amanda halted halfway through the word, obviously puzzled at its meaning.

“A stereopticon is something you hold up to your eyes and then look at pictures with,” he said. “I have a whole box of prints you can see.” He took her by the hand and led her from the room, sending an apologetic look in Carlinda’s direction.

“In the parlor?” Amanda asked brightly, double-stepping to keep up with his long strides. “What kind of pictures do you have?”

“Some of Rome or Venice or even London,” he said. “And lots of New York City and other places here in America.”

“I’ve already been to New York,” the child told him flatly. “I’d rather see somewhere else.”

“How about Niagara Falls?” he asked. “Or maybe ships on the ocean?”

“Let’s steer clear of P-a-r-i-s,” Carlinda said quickly, spelling the city’s name in a rush of letters, lest Amanda get the drift of the word she attempted to avoid speaking.

“Is there some reason for that?” he asked in a muted tone as he stepped to a bookcase where the instrument lay. Amanda settled herself on a sofa, smoothing her dress over her legs with a practiced hand, anticipation alive in her blue eyes. He glanced back at her, and Carlinda detected a softening in his eyes, those eyes so like the child’s.

“The accident took place in Paris,” she murmured. “I try not to mention it. She was quite traumatized for days after we heard the news.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew her mother. You were with Amanda, even back then?”

Carlinda hesitated, then nodded briefly. “Shall we light a lamp, so she can see these better?” she asked, changing the subject deftly.

Yet, even as he acceded to her suggestion, she was aware that the issue would be raised again. And she prepared herself for a battery of questions.

Chapter Two

Nicholas’s study was a reflection of the man, the fittings surrounding him luxurious, yet masculine. An enormous desk, its surface glowing with the sheen of polished mahogany, took her gaze as Carlinda walked over the threshold. Sitting behind it, leaning back in his chair, Nicholas resembled a king surveying his domain, judging his subject as she entered the throne room. She suppressed a smile at the thought, concentrating instead on the man himself. His hands were tanned, his fingers long, and laced together in a casual display of patience as he glanced up at her.

“Is the child asleep?” His voice appealed to her, she found as he spoke his query. It matched the man. Deep and cultured, yet with a strength beneath its resonant tone, it gave warning that he was not a man to be underestimated.

“Amanda?” She spoke the name as a query, her reprimand subtle, and Nicholas frowned. “Such a pretty name, don’t you think?” Carlinda asked, and then sighed, relenting. “Yes, she was tired.” And so am I. Perhaps this was not a good time to face the man and make her position clear. His next words told her he was aware of her hesitation as a slow smile lit his brilliant blue eyes.

“I’ll try to remember from now on to use her name when I speak of her.” He waved in the direction of a seating arrangement across from his desk. “I don’t plan on interrogating you, Miss Donnelly. Sit down for a moment. I only want to talk.”

A brown armchair lured her and she settled in its depths, seduced by the high back and soft leather surrounding her. Her feet touched the floor, her knees weak as she eyed his ebony hair and tanned features. It wasn’t fair that one man should be so endowed with masculine beauty, she thought, masking her admiration with a polite smile.

“I fear I won’t be good company, sir. Although my nap was refreshing, I find I need the comfort of a long night’s sleep. Perhaps your discussion will wait until another time.” She watched as his gaze swept her from top to bottom, a very short distance, given her position in the chair. That his eyes hesitated as they touched upon her full bosom and then traveled to where her feet were clad in soft leather was not a surprise. The man did not pretend a lack of interest in face and form, but made his intentions apparent.

“You don’t look like a nursemaid, Miss Donnelly,” he said bluntly, a small smile playing about his lips, as if he would draw a quick retort from her. “I’ve seen women who looked much as you do while at the opera house in New York City. You’re dressed in a conservative manner, as a cultured young lady would be, yet you give the impression of being knowledgeable about life in society.”

“Nevertheless, I am what I am,” she said quietly. “My looks have nothing to do with my occupation, Mr. Garvey. Women such as myself work in the finest homes in the city.” She glanced down at her modest, yet decidedly fashionable gown. “Surely I’m not dressed for the opera or a French restaurant, sir. I have references if you feel the need to see them, but I assure you I’m just a simple woman who has accompanied your niece from the East Coast.”

“You may be many things,” Nicholas said quietly, nodding his head as if he accepted her words as truth, “but you are not a simple woman.”

She felt her heart flutter as he spoke the words with emphasis, his eyes again touching her face, openly admiring the picture she presented. Aware of his scrutiny, blood rushed through her body, his measured gaze setting in motion a reaction she could not control. Tendrils of that same warmth lent color to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze to her lap.

Then courage took hold and she lifted her lashes to shoot a quick glare in his direction. She sighed at her own small betraying gesture, and smiled, ruing her short temper. “Perhaps not. But I am a weary woman, and unless you have instructions for me, I beg your leave to return to my room.”

He looked taken aback, yet rose with a graceful movement “Certainly. I only wanted to spend some time becoming familiar with your relationship to Amanda.” His mouth curved, an enticing movement of lips that drew her like a magnet. “May I call you Carlinda? Or is our acquaintance of too short a span to allow such a thing?”

“I probably won’t be here long enough for us to become friends, Mr. Garvey.” Rising from the chair without revealing her aching back and the sudden stiffness that gripped her knees made her hesitate, and he shot her a calculating look, then stepped quickly around the desk to offer his hand.

“I think you’re feeling the effects of travel,” he ventured. “Let me escort you up the stairs.”

She wasn’t certain she could tolerate the warmth of those fingers for any length of time, Carlinda decided. And then his hand moved to settle gently at the small of her back as he turned her toward the door of his study. It was even worse there, sending shards of heat from that place to envelop her entire body in awareness of the tall, masculine creature who was her host.

If she were certain of his trustworthiness, certain he would treat Amanda as he should, she’d be better off leaving. Though where she would go was still in doubt. She bit back a sigh as they crossed the threshold of the study. She’d already decided he was a magician, this elegant banker whose eyes warmed her, whose hand persuaded her without effort into doing as he willed.

So she walked beside him to the staircase, lifting her skirts, climbing to the second floor, her feet moving in unison with his. Beside her, his clothing, and the body beneath the fine wool and linen, exuded a fresh scent, one that blended with a subtle musky aroma, seducing her senses.

He reached to open the door of her room and the hand was gone from her back as he nodded politely in the direction of the bedside table where a pink-shaded lamp glowed, a beacon drawing her to the comfort of cool sheets and soft pillows.

“Have a good night,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you at breakfast. We eat rather early, I should warn you.”

“I’m used to arising when the sun comes up,” she told him, moving away across the carpet, then turning to face him. “Is that a connecting door to Amanda’s room?” She glanced at the wall where a single door sat ajar. “I didn’t pay attention earlier.”

Nicholas shook his head. “No. That’s a dressing room. I don’t have any suites in the house.” His smile was apologetic. “I fear you are in the wilds of Texas, ma’am. We don’t supply the conveniences of big-city living.”

She blushed anew at his words. “I didn’t mean to criticize. I just wanted to be able to hear Amanda should she awake in the night.”

“Does she have nightmares?” His brow wrinkled in a frown.

“Once in a while. Not during the journey, but then, it was all new and exciting to her. She dreams of her mother sometimes, and wakes crying.”

“Perhaps you should leave your door open then,” he suggested. “Hers is already ajar.” At her hesitation he grinned, a taunting look enveloping his eyes, crinkling the skin at their outer corners. He leaned against the doorjamb. “I promise not to intrude on your privacy.”

“Unless the walls are very thick, or soundproof, I’m sure I’ll hear her should she cry out,” she said hurriedly. She glanced at the window and noted the lights of town to the east. Even as she watched, one flickered and disappeared. “It seems things are settling down all over,” she said quietly. “Amanda shouldn’t be roused by noise from outdoors.”

“I’ll leave you then,” her host said. “If you like, I’ll open the sash. The fresh air will help you sleep.” His eyes looked black in the dim light and she inhaled sharply, shaking her head in refusal of his offer.

He gave her a last, long, surveying look. “Good night then, Miss Donnelly.”

His back was straight, his footsteps silent on the carpet as he turned toward the stairway and she relaxed, stepping to the side of the bed to perch on the mattress. The man’s effect on her was without precedent. Never in her twenty-four years had she known instant attraction to a male, unless she counted the tall youth, almost fifteen years older than she, who had lived next door in her growing-up years.

Jack had been her idol, her secret flame until the day he’d married a young lady and settled down to become a husband and father. His attraction for her had become null and void, and she could only ever after look at him as a staid creature with a string of children and a dutiful wife trailing behind as he entered the church on Sunday morning.

And now there was Nicholas Garvey, a man who looked at her as if he considered the thought of possessing her. She shook her head. What foolishness. The man was a flirt, a consummate ladies’ man, and she was a decent-looking female who’d just come into his orbit, offering a moment’s distraction.

Yet, there had been a response within her she could not deny. It would behoove her to leave this town as soon as she could assure herself of Amanda’s well-being here. She’d spend a bit of time backing away from the bonds formed by the child’s bereavement, and then decide where she might go from here.

She rose and slid open a bureau drawer, locating her nightgown. A swift glance at the door reminded her that it stood open and she crossed the room to quietly turn the handle, allowing it to latch. Far enough from the window to allow privacy, she slid from her clothing and into the soft batiste sleeping gown, then folded her underwear and arranged her dress over the back of a convenient chair.