The Way to Texas

He’d also complained over the past few months about split holidays and trying to spend time with both of his parents separately. Like every other nineteen-year-old on the planet, he wanted what was easiest for him. Too bad if his convenience didn’t work for anyone else. And reconciling with Larry definitely did not work for Dawn. She had to figure out a way to make that point to Andrew wihout alienating him.

So, yeah, she’d take that jolt of caffeine even if it meant tossing and turning all night.

Jolts. There’d been plenty of them going around upstairs, and she could not, would not, pay attention to them. Look where following her libido had gotten her with the last guy. She’d been instantly attracted to the guy who owned the café across from her design shop in Houston. Murray had been good-looking, suave and totally attentive. He’d also been very married—a little fact he’d failed to mention during their impromptu lunches and romantic weekends. For the first time in a long time, she’d been happy. She’d been in love. And it had been with another woman’s husband. The thought still made her want to vomit.

So she wasn’t listening to any crazy sexual static. Call her chicken. Or smart. Either way, Tyson Hart would be getting no play.

She glanced at the schedule mounted on the wall. Blue, green, orange and yellow highlighted sections all awaited her perusal. That’s how she liked it. No danger. No surprises.

The object of her musings stepped into the kitchen and ran a hand through his hair. The action caused the band on his polo shirt to rise above the sculpted biceps of his arm. The salmon color made his eyes glow. Dawn felt her mouth go dry with desire.

Hell.

“Coffee?” she said, before clearing her throat. She’d sounded like a bullfrog.

“Absolutely,” he said, placing a rolled-up paper on the granite countertop. “I ran out to my truck and grabbed the plans I’d worked on. By the way, Hunter Todd had a customer. It looked like a rat, though he assured me it was a dog.”

“Herman,” Dawn quipped, pulling two mugs from the cabinet. “He’s the Chihuahua that belongs to the Sandersons. We’ve bathed him once already.”

She poured him a cup and handed it to him.

“Just the way I like it,” he said, before raising it to his lips and taking a sip. “Very good.”

“So show me what you’ve got.” She smiled. Another sexually charged statement. Jeez. She was losing it. But Tyson chose to ignore this one, and instead unrolled the plans with the enthusiasm of a boy with his prized collection of baseball cards on display.

“Okay.” He set his coffee mug far away from the plans. “Here’s the second floor. The rooms aren’t labeled but you can see the library, nursery and so on.”

She nodded as if she didn’t already know what the second floor looked like. As if she’d never walked the halls, slept in Nellie’s old room the couple of times she didn’t feel like driving out to her brother’s ranch.

“These are the plans I’ve drawn up. First, here are the two rooms you’ll keep. We’ll divide those into four dormitory-like rooms for resting. Then we’ll section off this area and create a bank of bookshelf-style units for storage. We’ll install a sink, built-in fridge and a dumbwaiter that will lower to the kitchen on the first floor.”

She studied the plans as he ran a finger over the sections, explaining what each would be. Periodically, he would stop to discuss materials or ask for a suggestion. Occasionally, Dawn’s interest waned and she watched the enthusiasm he had for the project. Architecture wasn’t really her thing, but she could tell he had enjoyed designing the space and that he loved creating something exceptional out of something ordinary.

It was not too different than what she had done in her own redesign shop in Houston. She’d taken old pieces of furniture—things that no one wanted anymore—and created a new piece of furniture. She’d pick up an old chair on the side of the road, repair it, strip it, give it a faux finish and recover it with vintage fabric and, voila, it became a work of art. She liked getting her hands dirty in design work, so she totally understood the pleasure Tyson took in revisioning the space.

“It’s fabulous,” she said when he’d finished. “I can’t believe you can actually do all of that within these four walls.”

“Well, part of it is using good design principles. We’ll draw the eye upward to give a better sense of space. Using quality materials will offset the lack of square footage. Add some expansive colors, and it will feel airy.”

She laughed. “Did you just say airy?”

He shrugged. “Okay, so I watch a couple of design shows on HGTV.”

Dawn smiled, enjoying his small discomfiture. A picture of him with a notepad balanced on his lap while he took notes from a designer on TV popped into her mind. “I appreciate a man who does his research. So let’s talk time frame. When can you start and how long till completion?”

“I can start Monday,” he said. “Two months if I can find the right guys to help me. We should be finished before Christmas.”

Dawn took a sip from her mug. “Then it’s a deal.”

“You don’t need to talk to Nellie?” he said, reaching for his own mug and taking a long swallow of coffee.

“No, not unless it involves the frequency of nursing or the best diaper-rash creams,” she said, rolling her eyes comically.

“Okay, then,” he said, putting out his hand. “It’s a deal.”

Dawn placed her hand in his. It was dry, warm and enveloped her entire hand. A little frisson of electricity—the kind she was supposed to ignore—shot up her arm. She jerked her eyes to his. He felt it, too.

Then he did something totally unexpected. He pulled her to him. And she went. She could feel the hitch in her breathing, could feel his breath fan her cheek.

She tore her eyes from his and focused on the pulse at the base of his throat. Was it her imagination or was it beating erratically? Her breasts lightly brushed the front of his shirt, prickling immediately at the contact with his body.

She felt his fingers push strands of hair from her forehead. One of his massive arms curled around her, his hand sliding against her back, searing her with the heat of his touch.

She knew he was going to kiss her. She knew it was stupid to let him. Knew it was not what she should want, but she also knew if he didn’t press his lips to hers and claim the heat of her mouth, she’d go insane.

She chanced looking up at him.

Her passion was mirrored in his eyes.

He lowered his head and pulled her tighter against him.

She allowed a small sigh to escape her lips. A sigh of acceptance. A sigh of need.

His lips hovered above hers, teasingly.

Then something wet hit her ankles.

Dawn squealed as the wetness wriggled. She stepped back and heard a yelp.

“You stepped on him!” Hunter Todd shouted. “You hurted his paw.”

Dawn looked down to see Herman limping around, holding up his front paw. He did indeed look like a drowned rat. And the worried six-year-old didn’t look much better. He, too, was dripping on the tiled floor.

Tyson sighed. “Hunter Todd, I think you have about the best timing of any kid I’ve ever known.”

CHAPTER FIVE

DAWN DIPPED HER SPOON into the bowl of Golden Nut Ohs. The planner she’d found under some of Jack’s papers sat in front of her, open to the list she’d scribbled in the back. Her secret list that made it into every planner each new year. A list of the things she wanted to undertake by the time she was forty.

Her accomplishments to date were dismal.

She’d never learned sign language. She didn’t have two children. She’d never seen the Grand Canyon. Or run a marathon. Or visited the Louvre.

She’d also never had sex on a beach. Why the hell had she put that on there anyway? Gritty sand in hard-to-reach places, sunburn on tender places and seaweed in her hair? Couldn’t be good, could it?

Tyson’s image popped into her mind. Tyson bare-chested on the beach, sand clinging to his sun-kissed shoulders. Mmm.

How in the name of all that was holy was she going to see that man every day and not get tangled up in him? Even knowing that a man as capable and self-reliant as Tyson could seriously undermine her need to control her life and her sense of responsibility for everyone, didn’t stop this wanting. Sorting out where she was going probably wouldn’t happen if she got involved with him—she’d be too busy trying to run his life to pay attention to her own.