Heart of Texas Volume 1: Lonesome Cowboy

She laughed lightly. “It wasn’t easy. It took me weeks.”

“Why now? Because of the old roses?”

Savannah smiled. “I read an article in one of my gardening magazines about a man who found a huge number of old roses in a ghost-town cemetery. I’d nearly forgotten about Bitter End, but once I remembered, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I asked Grady as much as I could without arousing his suspicions, but eventually he caught on and wouldn’t give me any more information.”

Laredo frowned. “Savannah,” he pleaded, “if your brother’s that worried about it, then so am I. Don’t go.”

Her heart sank. Not Laredo, too. “Please don’t ask that of me,” she whispered.

He got up and walked around the table to stand in front of her. “Then don’t do it alone,” he said urgently.

“But there isn’t anyone—”

“There’s me.”

Savannah leaned back to see him more clearly. “You’d do that for me?”

He nodded and knelt in front of her, his expression earnest. “Promise me, Savannah.”

“I promise.” She needed to touch him. She couldn’t have explained why, but the yearning inside her was too strong to ignore. Hesitantly she pressed one hand to his cheek, her palm curving around his jaw. The skin was stubbled with his beard, and yet she’d never felt anything more sensual.

Laredo closed his eyes and gripped her wrist with a strength she hadn’t expected. “You make it damn near impossible,” he said from between clenched teeth.

“Impossible?” she whispered. She found it difficult to breathe or swallow. Her heart beat at an alarming rate, and she feared he would guess how his closeness unnerved her.

“Don’t you know?” His words were half groan, half speech, as if her touching him, even in the most innocent way, caused him pain. She felt the urgency in him and the restraint. She honored him for that restraint—but she didn’t need it anymore.

“I want you to kiss me, Laredo. I’ve dreamed about you every night.” Her raspy voice was barely audible.

“Savannah, please.”

“Please what? Ignore my heart? I can’t! I tried, Laredo, I really did.”

He cradled her face, and their eyes met. In his she read determination and a kind of desperation. “Grady’s made it difficult enough for you,” he said. “I can’t, I won’t make it—”

“I don’t care what my brother thinks,” she choked out, stopping him by placing her fingertips to his lips. “I know my heart, Laredo, and my heart wants you very much.”

His hands slid from the sides of her face and into her hair. Then slowly, inch by thrilling inch, he brought her mouth to his.

The instant their lips touched, Savannah felt her heart leap with a burst of joy. It overtook her, drove everything else from her mind.

His mouth was warm and moist, and he tasted of iced tea and fresh mint. He moved his lips hungrily against hers, molding her mouth to his with a heat that seared her senses. Although her experience with lovemaking had been limited, she’d had her share of kisses. But never like this. Never with this kind of heat, this degree of passion. Had it happened with anyone else, it would have frightened her.

Soon their arms were wrapped completely around each other in a struggle to get closer. She realized the fierceness with which they clung must be hurting his ribs. She tried to say something, to shift her hands, but he wouldn’t allow it, his movements urging her to hold him closer, hold him tighter.

The kiss grew hotter and hotter as they each sought to give more, take more, be more. Laredo’s breath came hard and fast. Her own echoed his.

With a moan, Laredo finally broke away, his shoulders heaving. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said in a tortured voice. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me,” she assured him, her face against his chest. In all her days she’d never been more brazen with a man, asking him outright to kiss her, to hold her. But hard as she tried, Savannah couldn’t make herself regret what she’d done. If anything she wondered why it had taken her so long. She’d had no idea kissing could be this...incredible. Her friends should have told her!

“Say something,” she pleaded. “I need to know you’re feeling it, too.”

“I think I knew the minute you stopped to offer me a ride.” He got to his feet and walked away from her.

“Laredo?”

“I promised Wiley I’d check on Roanie. Remember?”

In other words their discussion was over; he had nothing more to say. Nor did he wish to hear what she might say. “All right,” she said, hanging her head in defeat.

He got as far as the garden gate, then turned back. “You won’t go to the ghost town without me?”

“No,” she promised.

He nodded. He seemed about to speak again but hesitated. If he dared apologize for kissing her, she didn’t know what she’d do. Probably scream in frustration. That would be an unprecedented event—Savannah Weston screaming! She gave an involuntary giggle.

Savannah watched him leave, then carried the tray of empty glasses back into the house. Despite his withdrawal, his abrupt departure, she felt like dancing around her kitchen. He’d kissed her! And it had been wonderful.

Not only had Laredo kissed her, he’d said he’d been thinking about it for days. The same as she had. That was enough to make her heart wild with joy. But there was more. He’d as much as said he loved her.

“Oh, please,” she prayed, closing her eyes and clasping her hands, “let it be true. Don’t let this be a cruel joke.” But she knew otherwise; she’d felt it in the wonder of his kiss.

With the afternoon free, Savannah baked chocolate-chip cookies, one of her many specialties. She tucked a dozen inside the freezer to save for Maggie’s visits and filled the cookie jar with the rest.

Because the kitchen door was open, she heard Grady’s truck pull into the yard, followed by his near-frantic shout.

“Savannah!”

It wasn’t her name that shook her, but the way he yelled it. Rushing to the door, she found him stalking toward the house.

“Grady, for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong?”

“You’re not to talk to him!”

“Grady,” she said, her patience gone. “We’ve already had this discussion. Laredo—”

“Not Laredo,” he barked as if she were slow-witted or being purposely obtuse.

“Who?”

“Richard.”

“Richard?” She saw him then, her younger brother. Her “big boy,” the baby she’d loved and cared for and spoiled. He walked slowly down the long driveway, hefting his suitcase, eyes focused on the house as if the sight of it was the only thing that kept him on his feet.

“Richard,” she cried, and pressed her hands to her mouth. “Grady, how could you drive past him like that?”

“He’s not welcome here, Savannah.”