Wed to the Texan / Taming Clint Westmoreland: Wed to the Texan

Her pulse roared as he walked up to her and thrust his hands into her hair, tilting her head up abruptly. “What happened to the quiet cooperative secretary I married?” he asked, studying her with those piercing eyes.

“I’m not your secretary now, Jake,” she answered, desire igniting beneath his scalding perusal. She wanted to tell him to take his hands off her. They had an agreement and he was already violating it, but the words were locked in her throat.

“You just bested me, Emily. Something few men have ever done and no woman has. We agreed not to have sex, but I can’t recall any stipulations that I can never kiss you. This morning, you got your way and what you wanted. Now I’m going to take what I want,” he said.

Her heart drummed as she gazed up at him, wanting him and angry with him at the same time, unable to shake either response to him. She shook her head. “No, you’re not,” she whispered, knowing she wasn’t really putting up a fight at all.

“You want me to kiss you,” he said. “It shows in your eyes. Tell me to leave you alone, Emily.”

While he waited, his smoky eyes vanquishing her protest, his arm went around her waist. She wanted to shout at him to go away, but she couldn’t. Her heart hammered and her lips tingled and her toes curled in anticipation. She ached for him and wondered whether she’d really won at all. She’d get what he promised, but he’d take what he wanted and she would give it to him willingly. No matter how furious with him she was, how much she didn’t like or trust him, she couldn’t refuse him.

His gaze went to her mouth and he leaned closer. She was certain he could see her pulse raging.

“No, Jake,” she whispered.

“Everything in you is saying yes,” he said with satisfaction lighting his eyes. His mouth covered hers, his tongue thrusting deep as if he could bend her will to his own.

Her exhilaration over winning evaporated. Enraged with him for his deception, she wanted to shout no, to stand up to him, yet she couldn’t. Why was she letting him kiss her?

Thoughts spun away as his arm tightened and he leaned over her. She knew now she hadn’t really won this major part of their battle.

He leaned down until she lost her balance and she clung to him while he kissed her. Trying to resist, she stood as still as a statue. But desire scalded her and she had to return his kiss, to stroke his tongue with hers, to kiss him deeply and run her hands over him.

Finally, he released her and looked down at her with a satisfied expression.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Jake,” she whispered. “You know you can kiss me and I can’t resist, but I will say no to anything more. I’m not giving you a baby.”

“We’ve made our bargain,” he said, still leaning over her. His gaze was intense, hot with desire. He swung her up and kissed her hard again, wrapping his arms around her.

His arousal thrust against her and she burst into flame, her breath ragged. She hoped she could live up to her words. She wouldn’t let Jake get her pregnant. She knew he intended to seduce her, get her pregnant and inherit the money, but she wasn’t having his baby.

She kissed him back for a moment, returning it passionately. A part of her wanted to excite him, frustrate him as much as he frustrated her. She thrust her tongue deep in his mouth, stroking and teasing, nipping his lower lip lightly, rubbing against his hard erection.

She felt him inhale, heard a groan deep in his throat. He released her and both of them gasped for breath as they studied each other.

Contradicting the storm in his gray eyes, he placed his palm gently against her cheek. “You’re beautiful, Em. You absolutely take my breath away.”

“How many women have you said that to?” she asked. His jaw hardened and his eyes turned cold.

“Want me to take you to breakfast?” he asked, instead of replying to her question. “After all, you have to eat and it’ll save you money for your charities. We’ll be in public so there’ll be no more kisses. Get your purse and come with me. We don’t even have to talk.” Without waiting for her answer, he turned away to pick up his jacket and pull it on.

In consternation, she started to refuse. But she knew that everything Jake had just said was the truth, so why not let him buy her breakfast? Maybe she could torment him a little more.

In silence she picked up her purse, but paused when she noticed Jake had pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call my accountant. He’ll have your bank account number and can transfer the first payment to you this morning,” Jake said.

“Thank you,” she said. She made a mental note to open another account that Jake and his staff knew nothing about and move the money. She intended to spend a lot of it as soon as possible, having decided already what she wanted to do and which projects were the most vital. A chunk of the money would go to her father’s church. Her relationship with Jake was so volatile, she wanted to grab the money and run, get it spent so Jake couldn’t take it back.

Barely able to hear his low voice, she listened as he gave the information to his head accountant. Then Jake clicked shut his phone. “It’s done. Now you’ve got a lot of money to spread goodwill over Dallas.”

“Thank you,” she said. “So are we ready?”

He waved his hand toward the door and opened it for her. She swept out ahead of him and he fell into step beside her as they moved to the elevator.

They walked to the car in silence. She was aware of his height, his shoulder occasionally brushing hers. At the car, he reached around her to open the door for her and she caught the scent of his aftershave.

As she slid into the car, she glanced up to see him looking down at her legs. Her skirt had fallen open at the slit, revealing her long legs.

“Thanks,” she said perfunctorily, looking forward and trying to ignore him—which was totally impossible. He walked around the front of the sports car, taking his usual long strides that conveyed self-assurance in every step.

At the restaurant, as they followed the maître d’ to a linen-covered table, skylights let sunshine spill into the dining room. Emily was aware of women turning to look at Jake. Women gravitated to him like iron filings to a magnet. A lot of them wouldn’t have cared what Jake’s motives were for marriage. They’d be deliriously happy with all he could give them. Was she being unreasonable? She didn’t think so. As far as she was concerned, deception was an unforgivable breach of trust.

Jake held her chair, his fingers barely brushing her, so slight on her back and arm that it could have been accidental. But she suspected Jake did very little unintentionally.

He sat across from her and once again, she could see faint amusement in his eyes. He was so damn certain of himself. He knew that he was handsome and sexy and that she couldn’t resist his kisses.

A waitress placed menus in front of them. Emily opened hers and tried to ignore the sparks that danced between them every time she glanced at Jake.

She ordered a huge breakfast, figuring she’d skip lunch and eat on his dime.

With a wink for Jake, the waitress took their menus. Emily looked into Jake’s eyes. “You do impress women everywhere you go,” she said.

“There’s one I don’t impress enough,” he replied. “So if I’d refused to coach, would you really have walked? Admit it, Em. We have a deal now and the money is being moved. Would you have walked out on the million?”

“Yes, I would,” she said. “It doesn’t seem real to me at this point, anyway.”

“After over a year of being married to me, I don’t see how it can’t seem real. Of all the women in the world, I picked the one who isn’t interested in wealth or luxury.”

“As I recall,” she said, smiling at him, “you said that’s what you were searching for.”

“Not to this extent. It never occurred to me anyone would react to money the way you do.” He touched her cheek. “I don’t usually miss the mark as I have with you. Maybe I’m losing my touch.”

“Jake, as the old saying goes, you can’t win ’em all. You always expect to win, that much I know about you. But nobody gets what they want all the time.”

“True,” he said, smiling at her with a flash of white teeth in a warm grin that was an invitation to relax her guard. She wondered how many times he’d coaxed what he wanted out of women with that irresistible smile. And she was as vulnerable to it as any of them.

“Are you free late this afternoon?” she asked sweetly, smiling at him in turn, sure she couldn’t do to him what he could to her.

Pleasure flashed in his eyes. “Sure, I’m free,” he said, reaching over to take her hand in his and lightly rub his thumb across her knuckles. Tingles spun from his touch, fanning an ever smoldering blaze. “And, for you, if I weren’t, I’d get free. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll call this morning and see if I can catch the boys. You can start coaching late this afternoon,” she said. Jake would hate to start today—all the more reason to make him do so, as far as she was concerned.

Instantly, his eyes turned glacial. He dropped her hand and sat back. “Dammit, Emily, this coaching thing is going to be disastrous. Football is history in my life. And I’m not a teacher.”

“You’re a smart man, Jake, and these are good kids. You’ll manage.” She paused while the waitress appeared with orange juice and cups of steaming coffee.

She fussed over Jake and then left them. “I don’t think our waitress has noticed my wedding ring.” Emily laughed. “Let me tell you about the boys. Orlando Crane and Anthony Day are American. The other two haven’t been in this country long. English is their second language.”

“Dammit, Emily! I can’t talk to them?”