Runaway Lone Star Bride

Hart breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah.” His smile grew tender. “He fought it as hard as he could, but the poor little guy just couldn’t keep his eyes open. I put him in his crib about ten minutes ago, and he ought to be good for a while. In the meantime, I rigged up a makeshift baby monitor by calling the house phone with my cell and leaving the phone receiver in Henry’s room. I hope that’s okay,” he said.

Impressed he had figured out what to do until they could get a real baby monitor for him to use, Maggie nodded her approval. “If anyone really needs me, they’ll call my cell phone.” She paused. “I’m glad he’s finally asleep, though.”

Except...it would mean they’d have the rest of the night without distraction. And the two of them needed the commotion Henry supplied to keep them safely at arm’s length.

Hart strode closer. He’d shaved since she had seen him last. A mixture of mint and spicy aftershave lotion clung to his handsome jaw. She felt a tingle of awareness deep inside her.

He smiled. “But just in case—would you mind keeping an ear out for him while I bring in the stuff from the rental car?”

“No problem.” It would give her a moment to calm her jumping nerves.

“Thanks.” Hart flashed a confident smile, promising, “It should just take a couple of minutes.”

While he was gone, Maggie got out two bowls, a bag of chips and some grated cheddar. She didn’t really want to eat dinner with Hart—it somehow felt a little too intimate—but she also knew he had to be hungry. Good manners dictated she share what she had, at least for that evening. The fact she’d felt something for him, when they were talking, had nothing to do with it. Nor did the fact she found him as tempting as ever.

Hart came back in, loaded down with a big suitcase prominently bearing Henry’s name, an expensive leather duffel with his initials and a laptop bag.

He grinned when he saw the double place-setting at the kitchen island. “Expecting company or is that for me?”

“It’s for us,” she corrected wearily, then aware of the potential implications of that, quickly wished she hadn’t. “And you are ‘company’ to me, in the strictest sense of the word.”

She meant to reassure him. Put the mood back in the platonic-to-a-fault category. Instead, to her frustration, her words had the opposite effect. His dark brown eyes lit up the same way they had when she’d mentioned Dr. Ruth instead of Dr. Phil. He invaded her space, wrapping both hands around her spine. “Sure about that?”

He pressed lightly, bringing her all the way against him. Now she was the one on fire with desire. Her pulse pounding, Maggie worked to get air into her lungs. “Hart...”

“Can’t help it, Maggie,” he said huskily, guiding her closer still. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you. And damned if I’m not going to do just that.”

Chapter Four (#ulink_01641747-1f64-5fc4-b12d-768b5d9d275e)

Hart had been telling himself that the memories of that day, long ago, were greatly exaggerated. That it had just been the excessively emotional nature of the encounter that had him thinking about her again and again and again.

That theory was soon proved completely wrong when instead of resisting, she went up on tiptoe, more than meeting him halfway. Her arms wreathed his neck, the soft warmth of her breasts pressed against his chest and she let out a whisper of a moan as their lips met. The sweet taste of her rocked him to his core. He cupped one hand beneath her jaw and slid his other through the thick silk of her hair until he had tilted her head just so. Until she was kissing him back with all the heat and passion he had expected her to have. Making him want. Need. Yearn to have her beneath him.

And it was then, when he was pulling her up against him, sliding his palms down her spine to the small of her back, letting her warmth wash over him, that she kissed him all the deeper.

Maggie knew she shouldn’t have gone so willingly into his embrace, and she certainly shouldn’t be kissing Hart like this. But there was something about him that had her drowning in his eyes and feeling so damned alive.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. As if there was nothing more important than the here and now. As if he wanted to know as much about her as she yearned to know about him, even as his lips moved against hers, testing, discovering, until she gasped in sheer pleasure. Until kissing was an act in itself that could lead to so much more.

And that, Maggie knew, neither of them was ready for.

Calling on every ounce of self-preservation she possessed, she broke off the kiss and pushed him away. “We can’t do this.”

He mocked her with a glance even as he refused to budge. “Kiss?”

So, for him, it wasn’t that big a deal. Another big warning sign. “Start something when you’re in as much a state of crisis as I was the last time we met.”

He cocked his head, regarding her with disbelief.

Maggie pulled herself together and rushed on, “I mean, I can be there for you as a friend. But beyond that, you can see how foolish it is to have a relationship that is anything but platonic.”

* * *

PLATONIC, HART REPEATED to himself. Oh, man, could his week get any better? He let his gaze drift over her soft, damp, kiss-swollen lips. The pretty color in her cheeks. And the evasion in her blue eyes. “I see how foolish you think it is.”

Her gaze met his, clear now. “You’ve got too much on your plate right now,” she insisted.

Hart knew what would make him feel better. And it wasn’t keeping his distance from the most compelling woman he’d ever come across in his entire life. “Or not enough, as the saying goes,” he murmured, tempting her with a wicked smile.

Because now he saw, whether she realized it or not, that she needed to move on with her life—or risk being stuck in this rut forever. He cared about her too much to see that option materialize.

As if reading his mind, she blew out an aggravated breath, letting him know with a glance she wasn’t the kind of woman who could handle sex with no strings. “Hart—”

Raising his hands in surrender, he backed up, reluctantly all Texas gentleman again. If he wanted her—and he did—two things were going to have to happen. One, it was going to have to mean something. And two, he was going to have to be patient. “Okay. Point taken.” He laid a hand across his heart. “I promise I won’t kiss you any more today.”

She planted her hands on her hips and sent him a withering glance. “Funny. But that isn’t the kind of pledge I was looking for.”

“Me either, truth to tell.” He’d wanted much more from her. Still did. “In the meantime...” Maggie was right about one thing, there were things that needed his immediate attention. He opened up his case and set his laptop computer on the counter. “Mind if I send off a quick email to my folks, before we eat? I’d like to let them know what’s going on.”

“No problem.” Looking happy to move on to something less problematic than the attraction between them, Maggie filled two glasses with iced tea and added sprigs of fresh mint. “What are you going to say to them?”

Hart sighed. As little as possible. “Just that I have some great news to share. And to call me as soon as they can.”

Maggie leaned against the counter, sipping her drink. She studied him from beneath a fringe of thick dark lashes. “I’m sure they’re going to be ecstatic when they find out they have a grandson.”

Hart imagined that was true. He also knew the conversation likely wouldn’t end there. His parents would lament being shut out of the first year and a half of Henry’s life. They’d also want to know what Hart’s plans were. All he knew for sure, as he plugged his cell phone and charger into the wall, shut his laptop and took a seat at the island, was that his initial idea—of having his parents temporarily help care for his son—was a bust. Which meant he was going to have to come up with a new one, fast.

His mood suddenly pensive, he watched as Maggie carried their dinner to the table. Hart was hungry and the home-cooked meal hit the spot. “This is incredibly delicious.”

She smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

He finished what was in his bowl, then got up to get another serving, before sitting down next to her once again. “I mean it. I’m not much of a soup guy, but this—” he spooned up a bite of tender chicken, floating in a rich broth, redolent with tomatoes, peppers, onions and black beans and garnished with cheese and crispy tortilla strips. “This is a meal.”

She chuckled. “It’s my parents’ recipe.”

Eager to know more about her and what her life had been like as a kid, he lifted a brow. “They both cook?”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “No choice when there are six kids in a family and both parents work.”

Hart thought back to the wedding. “That’s right. You have six sisters, don’t you?”

“A set of twins, a set of triplets and a single birth.”

“All of you named after flowers?”

Maggie groaned. “Don’t remind me. Being called Magnolia was the bane of my youth.”

Hart recalled the lacy garter of silk magnolia blossoms she’d worn on her wedding day. His wish to be the one to be able to inch it down her long, lusciously shaped leg. “I don’t know. I think it kind of suits you.”