Totally Texan

What would she feel? Would he make her tingle, make her hot?

Now that was a hoot, thinking she’d ever let him within touching distance. Disgusted with his thoughts of the ice queen, Grant got up, trudged to the kitchen and helped himself to another beer.

It was after he’d killed the contents that the idea struck him. He stood still, feeling heat boil up in him. “Ah, hell, Wilcox. Forget it. That’s crazy. You’re crazy!”

Crazy or not, he was going to do it. Grabbing a jacket, he headed out the door, knowing that he’d probably lost what mind he had left.

Her face still flamed.

And not from the tub of hot water she’d been soaking in for at least thirty minutes. How could she have done such a thing? How could she have been so clumsy? She never had been at such a loss before. Cool, calm and collected was how she was thought of at the firm, how she generally operated on a day to day basis.

Or at least how she used to, before…

Kelly shook her head, refusing to go there. She had already beaten up on herself enough. To dwell on the now was not only detrimental to her psyche, but stupid. What happened four years ago couldn’t be changed. Nothing would ever bring her family back.

What happened this morning, however, was another matter altogether.

“Merciful heaven,” Kelly muttered, reaching for the loofah and sudsing her body so hard she left it tingling. Then, deciding she couldn’t change the morning’s embarrassment no matter how much she might want to, she got out of the tub and dried off.

Later, wrapped in a warm robe, she sat on the sofa close to the fireplace. Even though it was relatively early, she should try to get some sleep, but she knew any attempt to do so would be futile. Her mind was still too revved up. Besides, at home she hardly ever went to bed before midnight, usually kept company by a ton of work she brought home from the office.

Thinking about work, Kelly felt her heart falter.

She missed her office, her clients, her condo. She missed them with a passion. In the Houston Galleria area she heard the sounds of traffic, not owls. She shivered and wrapped her robe tighter around her. Something hot to drink always seemed to soothe her. Not this evening, however. Although she had made a cup of her favorite flavored coffee and took several sips of it, she still felt unsettled.

She lay back and closed her eyes, only to find the image of Grant Wilcox unexpectedly imprinted on the back of her lids. Instead of freaking out, she let her mind have free reign—first, picturing him again in his flannel shirt and tight, faded jeans, covering a body most men would die for, then wondering what made him tick.

Why did she care?

So he was better than average looking in his rough, sexy way—she’d already conceded that. His features were carved with decisive strokes, and he had a killer smile and dimples to go along with that amazing body.

He had that muscled, yet loose-limbed agility that most big men didn’t possess. She could picture him working outdoors shirtless, mending a fence, felling timber, or doing whatever he did.

Suddenly, her mind jumped ship and she imagined him without his jeans. No underwear, either.

The image didn’t stop there. Next came the vision of the two of them together, naked…

Stop it! She told herself. What had gotten into her?

She was so traumatized by her thoughts, she couldn’t even open her eyes. So what? No one knew what was going on inside her head. Those erotic, mental meanderings were hers and hers alone and would bring harm to no one.

Wrong.

This was a dangerous mind game she was playing—examining her life, including her loneliness and her need to be accepted and loved. Still, the images wouldn’t let go—of mouths, tongues, entwined, of kisses that sucked out the soul.

The phone proved merciful to her, ringing with a jarring clarity just then. Lurching up, heart palpitating and drenched in sweat, Kelly let go of a pent-up breath.

“God!” she whispered, mortified and confused. Loosening her robe, she reached for the receiver.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”

Ruth again. Although Kelly didn’t want to talk to her, she had no choice. Perhaps her cousin’s laughter was the antidote she needed to gather her scattered wits about her.

“How was the rest of the day?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Kelly asked, a tremor in her voice.

“Uh-oh, something happen?”

“You might say so.”

“Hey, I don’t like the sound of that.” Ruth paused. “Okay, did the help quit?”

“No way. They love me.”

“Whew. That’s a relief. If you knew how hard it was for me to find those two, you’d be relieved, too.”

“I am. They’re great.”

“So, if the place is still standing and you’re selling the goods, what could be so bad?”

Kelly cleared her throat. “Do you know a farmer by the name of Grant Wilcox?”

Ruth laughed. “First off, he’s no farmer. He’s a forester.”

“Whatever.”

“They aren’t the same, cousin dear.”

“That’s a minor point, but I’ll concede.”

“Girl, he’s the hunk I was telling you about. Surely you figured that out.”

“I guessed as much.”

“So what do…did…you think?”

If only you knew. “He’s okay.”

“Just okay?” Ruth practically screeched. “I’m not believing you. He’s had every female in the county and surrounding ones try to get him down the aisle.” She paused with a laugh. “Without success, I might add.”

“That’s too bad. You of all people know I’m not interested in being with a farmer, for God’s sake.” Kelly found herself squirming on the sofa.

“Forester.”

Kelly ignored that. “What he is is a country bumpkin who probably prefers to hug trees rather than women.” She paused. “No offense intended.”

“None taken,” Ruth replied with more laughter. “I know how you feel about the country. Or should I say the woods?”