The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress / Lone Star Seduction: The Maverick’s Virgin Mistress

“No. I confess. I was distracted by my other appetites.” With some effort, she lifted her head up onto the chaise. “And I even berated Alex for not eating properly this morning. I’m such a hypocrite.”

Rick’s playful expression faded. “You spoke to Alex?”

“Yes. I wanted to make sure everything was okay at the ranch.”

“Did you tell him you’re here?”

“No.” She shifted onto her elbow. “It’s better he doesn’t know, especially with so much going on. He’ll just worry, then overreact.”

“And I’ll be challenged to pistols at dawn for assailing your virtue.”

“Exactly.” Alicia sighed. “Why go looking for drama? Let’s at least wait until they find out who set the fire. Then he’ll have some other man to direct his hostile energies toward.”

Chapter Five

“W here are we going?” Alicia asked as Justin pulled onto the freeway. They’d changed their clothing after the impromptu tryst, then headed right out in search of lunch.

“Downtown Somerset.”

He could feel her curious gaze on him. “Why?”

“Because I want to see it through your eyes.” Since he was now striding around town defending her plan to preserve the old buildings, he wanted to know more about what he was trying to save.

And more about the lovely Alicia.

Her gaze darkened. “What if Alex sees us?”

He managed not to laugh. “Is he likely to be hanging around downtown Somerset on a Saturday afternoon?” For someone so smart, she was more than a little paranoid.

“Well, no, but…”

“So stop worrying. If we run into him you can say I’m a visiting professor of natural history,” he said, knowing full well that if they did run into Alex, she wouldn’t be the only one who had some explaining to do.

She chuckled. “There is no such thing. Besides, you don’t look like a professor.” She eyed the pale blue shirt he’d changed into. “They don’t usually wear Prada.”

“Me, either. It was a gift from one of my aunts.”

“She has good taste. I like the color.”

He smiled. “I know. That’s why I wore it. See? I’m getting to know you, bit by bit. And so far, I haven’t found a bit I don’t like.”

“All this talk about biting is making me squirm.” She wriggled in her seat, inadvertently pulling her simple white dress tight across her full chest.

Justin suppressed a groan of arousal. “Please, don’t talk about biting and squirming while I’m driving. It could be dangerous.”

Alicia let out a little growl. The lascivious gesture sent a ripple of lust straight up his spine. He couldn’t wait to see more of her wild side.

Alicia crossed her sleek, tanned legs, giving him a flash of inner thigh.

The sensation in his crotch was getting to be pretty unbearable. “Tell me where to park,” he said as he pulled off at the exit. The hum and buzz of Houston subsided as they entered the peaceful, tree-lined streets of historic Somerset.

Victorian houses sat gracefully amidst large lawns and mature trees. A kid rode by on a bike, like something out of the 1950s.

“That house is a Stanford White.” She pointed to a stunning Beaux Arts “cottage” he’d never noticed before. “He was a famous nineteenth-century architect who—”

“Was murdered by the husband of a woman he had a scandalous affair with.”

“You’ve heard of him,” she said with surprise and delight in her eyes.

“I had one of the most expensive educations money can buy. Despite that, I managed to pick up a few facts along the way. It’s a beautiful house.”

He’d stopped the car and they sat with the engine humming. “The detail is incredible. You’d never see that kind of elaborate molding on a house today.”

“And just two years ago it was condemned. The roof was damaged during a storm and the city wanted to tear it down. That’s when I joined the Somerset Historical Society and we raised money to have it restored.”

Pride showed on her beautiful face. “It sold for two million when it was finished, and the owner loves it so much, she lets us give tours as a fundraiser.”

Justin was intrigued. “How did you get interested in architectural history?”

“I always loved to look at beautiful houses.” She glanced up at the steep eaves and shimmering multi-paned windows. “When I was a little girl we lived in a tiny house in the barrio. The roof leaked and the foundation was half-rotted, but my parents didn’t dare ask the landlord to fix anything in case he tried to raise the rent. My parents saved every penny they had because they couldn’t wait to move out of there and buy their own home. The American dream, you know?”

She laughed, but her laughter was tinged with sorrow. “They used to talk so much about that house they dreamed of—the sunny windows it would have with views of a grassy backyard, a big kitchen with rows of shining copper pots. Alex wanted his own bedroom so he could put up shelves for his collection of model airplanes.”

For a second, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t suppose they ever came close to having enough money for a down payment. My dad was killed in an accident where he worked and after that my mom just struggled to make ends meet. No one talked much about buying a house again. Except Alex.” She smiled. “He always said you have to dream big, no matter what. Even after our mother died, he kept saying that.”

“He’s right.” Emotion rose in Justin’s chest.

How he wished he could turn back time and give Alicia’s family the house of their dreams. The most pressing financial problem his parents ever faced was finding new tax loopholes to exploit.

He slid his arm around her shoulder. “Your parents would be so happy to see you and Alex at El Diablo.”

“Oh, I know.” Her eyes brightened. “My mom used to clean houses all over Somerset and El Diablo was one of them. She took such pleasure in polishing all the lovely quarter-sawn oak trim and buffing the brass doorknobs.” She stared out the window, as if lost in the past. “I know this sounds silly, but when we were there—she used to take me along when school was out because she couldn’t afford a sitter—we’d pretend it was all ours. I used to dance down those corridors and pretend one of those pretty bedrooms with the chintz curtains was mine, and that I had a closet filled with fine clothes.”

“And now you do.”

“Yeah.” A broad grin settled across her face as she turned to him. “Funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s totally awesome,” he said, meaning every word of it. “I guess the American dream is alive and well in Somerset.” He squeezed Alicia and she nuzzled against him.

Something kicked inside his heart. A fierce longing to give Alicia the world—or at least the most beautiful house in it.

Where did that come from?

“So, there are more of these old gems in Somerset?”

“Oh, yes. It developed as a suburb for wealthy Hous-tonians, so nearly all of the buildings are special in some way. Look at this one.”

She pointed to a quasi-gothic stone structure across the street. “The owner fell in love with a medieval abbey in Somerset, England, and had it brought here brick by brick and rebuilt as his home. It even has some of the original stained glass inside. I gave a tour of it last year through the museum.”