Forever A Hero

Mace met Kelly’s gaze and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“We’ll definitely want wine,” Kelly said, speaking for the first time since they’d stepped up to the podium at the restaurant’s entrance. “Something with the Mountain Winery label, of course. In the meantime, I’ll have a glass of unsweetened iced tea, please, with lemon and lots of ice. Later, when we know what we’re having to eat, we’ll decide on the wine.”

“Coffee for me, thanks,” Mace added, relieved at the change of subject.

Cindy bustled away.

“What’s good here?” Kelly asked, studying the menu. “I love risotto, but I’m not in the mood.”

Mace grinned. “Everything is good,” he replied.

Kelly smiled. “That really narrows it down,” she said, meeting his eyes and then revisiting the choices listed. “The lobster salad sounds tasty.” A slight frown creased her otherwise smooth forehead. “Of course, we’re a long way from the ocean, so seafood might be risky.”

“Not here,” Mace said. “Stefano has his lobsters flown in from Maine, alive and kicking—so to speak.”

Kelly winced briefly, probably imagining the cooking process. “There really is a Stefano?” she asked. “It’s not just the name of the restaurant?”

“There is most definitely a Stefano. He’s a master chef and he happens to own this place.” He paused. “The restaurant, which is a five-star establishment, by the way. Not the resort.”

“And he wound up in Mustang Creek, Wyoming?” Kelly asked with a teasing note in her voice.

Mace leaned closer. “Yep,” he drawled, smiling. “Strange as it might appear, he prefers snowcapped mountains and wide-open spaces to concrete and skyscrapers.”

“I’m going with the lobster salad, then,” Kelly said. “What about you?”

“I’m a sucker for Stefano’s prime rib. It’s excellent.”

“Then we’ll order red wine and white,” she said. “You choose, since you’re the expert.”

Cindy returned with the iced tea and coffee. “I’ll bring over a basket of rolls in a minute or two,” she said, her smile as bright and genuine as ever. “One of the guys in the kitchen is taking a fresh batch out of the oven.”

“Yum,” Kelly said, the tip of her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips.

Mace shifted in his chair, cleared his throat. Just like that, he’d gone as hard as a railroad spike.

“Do you need more time?” Cindy asked. “Or shall I take your orders now?”

“May I?” Mace asked Kelly, glad the lower half of his body was hidden by the tabletop and its pristine white cloth.

Kelly nodded, almost shyly. “Please,” she said.

He ordered the lobster salad for Kelly, prime rib with all the trimmings for himself, along with glasses of his best cabernet and the award-winning pinot grigio he was so proud of. At his recommendation, both were among a group of popular house wines available by the glass as well as the bottle.

“Now,” he said, when Cindy had moved away, “let’s hear your proposal.”

Kelly looked alarmed for a moment, a reaction Mace enjoyed while it lasted. “Oh,” she said. “Yes.”

“Or,” Mace went on smoothly, before she had a chance to launch into whatever pitch she planned to make, “we could enjoy our lunch, get to know each other a little and talk business later. I’d like to show you the winery this afternoon, if you’re up to it. That way, you can experience the place firsthand.”

Kelly glanced down at her expensive, take-no-prisoners outfit with uncertainty. It was perfect for a boardroom, no argument there, but a working winery and acres of dusty vineyards? Not exactly.

“You’ll want to check out the grapes,” he added when she said nothing.

The hesitation was over. “I’d like that,” she said quietly.

Mace smiled, as pleased as if she’d agreed to go skinny-dipping in a sun-dappled creek. He let his gaze rest on the lace peeking from beneath her jacket, then looked quickly away. “You ought to swap out those clothes first, though. We’re talking behind the scenes here, not just the tasting room. Comfortable shoes will save you a few blisters, too.”

He fell silent. For a long interval, they simply stared at each other, something invisible and yet entirely real arcing between them.

Mace couldn’t have said what was going through Kelly’s mind, but he was picturing her upstairs in her room, with the shades drawn, slipping out of that perfectly fitted pantsuit, taking off the slacks, the jacket, the lace-trimmed top, slowly revealing her shapely legs and arms. He put the image in freeze-frame before she got to her bra and panties, which were probably skimpy enough to be sexy as hell, because his groin, already giving him trouble, had turned to granite.

At this rate, they’d be at their table for the rest of the day, just so he wouldn’t have to stand up and let Kelly see how much he wanted her. If it came to that, he decided, he’d “accidentally” spill a glass of ice water into his lap, or maybe a whole pitcherful.

He drew a series of deep breaths.

Kelly, still looking directly into his face, fiddled with her napkin.

Cindy broke the spell by delivering the promised bread basket and, soon after that, two glasses of wine.

Kelly’s hand trembled almost imperceptibly as she helped herself to a roll. “Still warm,” she said, somehow combining a sigh and a croon as she spoke. She split the bun between her fingers, and steam escaped, along with the familiar yeasty aroma. Then she reached for a butter knife.

It was such an ordinary, everyday thing to do, buttering a dinner roll, and yet there was an erotic element to her movements that struck Mace like a body blow, forcing him to look away. Again. Just as he recovered his equilibrium and turned to face her again, she took a bite.

“Mmm,” Kelly murmured, eyes closed. “Delicious.”

Barely suppressing a groan, Mace shut his eyes, too. Get a grip, Carson, he told himself.

“Is something wrong?” Kelly asked after a second or two, with a note of genuine concern. Clearly, she was unaware of the effect she was having on her potential business partner.

“I’m fine,” Mace said. The lie came out sounding hoarse, but if Kelly noticed, she didn’t let on.

“I love fresh bread,” she added with a blissful sigh.

Cindy returned, bringing Kelly’s lobster salad and his prime rib. Mace was relieved by the interruption, and although he’d lost his appetite somewhere along the line, he picked up his knife and fork.

Kelly smiled with a hint of sadness as she watched the girl walk away, resuming her duties. “I was like that once,” she said softly. An instant later, her expression made it obvious that she regretted the remark.

Mace forgot his own concerns as he studied Kelly’s face. “You were like what once?” he asked, reaching for his cabernet.

She lowered her eyes for a moment, raised them again. Their gazes connected.

The charge reminded him of the business end of a cattle prod.

Kelly’s spine was straight as she raised her shoulders on an indrawn breath and then looked down again. “Full of plans, I guess,” she answered reluctantly. “You know. Convinced that things would turn out the way I expected.”

Mace gave a slight, rueful smile. “I can relate,” he said.

She paused, a forkful of lobster salad halfway to her mouth. “You can?” She seemed surprised. “Are you telling me you’re disappointed in your life?”