Beneath the Stetson(20)

Her suppositions were confirmed when Gil glanced at his watch and muttered in dismay. “It’s almost time for me to pick up Cade,” he said. “I didn’t know it was so late. I’ll run you home and come back to get him.”

She and Gil had talked easily and at length, with a comfort that Bailey rarely found in relationships with the opposite sex. The time had flown by. Underlying all of the conversation was the unspoken subtext of what they both wanted.

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “Too much driving back and forth. Let me call Chance. I’m sure he won’t mind sending one of the ranch hands into town to pick me up. Go get your son, Gil. Take him home to bed.” The Straight Arrow and McDaniel’s Acres, both south of town, were not that far apart. It made no sense for Gil to crisscross the county when the solution was simple.

Gil waved a hand for the checks and tucked both of their credit cards in the folio, frowning. “I invited you to dinner tonight. I’ll take you home.” He grimaced, clearly conflicted. “I suppose he’s old enough to know that not every relationship ends in wedding bells. We might as well go get him together.”

“I appreciate your chivalry,” she said wryly. “But I don’t need a grand gesture. I’ve already told you how I feel. You’re a sexy, appealing man, and I find myself very attracted to you. That won’t change simply because you have responsibilities.”

The tightness in his jaw eased, and his expression lightened. “Thank you, Bailey.” He stood and took her wrist to pull her to her feet. “But we’ll go together.”

Outside, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, or at least toward the more seasonable. Temperatures had dropped while they were eating, and now, wind-driven spritzes of raindrops dampened the air.

Bailey shivered, wishing she had remembered to bring a wrap. Gil shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it around her shoulders without asking. The fabric smelled like warm male. “Thank you,” she said, drawing the lapels closer together.

The car was not far, so they made a run for it. Gil tucked her inside and ran around to the driver’s seat. When they were both safely inside, they laughed, shaking water droplets from their hair. The windows fogged up almost immediately.

He didn’t start the engine. Instead, he turned toward her and studied her intently. Her taut nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress, perhaps visible even through her thin bra. Not that Gil could see. But she knew.

“Do you need the heater?” he asked gruffly, his gaze dark and hungry.

She shook her head. “It’s not that cold in the car.”

Their stilted, prosaic conversation might have been funny if she hadn’t been wound so tightly. Her skin hummed with the need to feel his touch. Fortunately for her, Gil must have been on the same page.

“Come here, Bailey.” They were sitting in the front of his fancy, enormous truck. The wide bench seat presented all sorts of intriguing possibilities.

She scooted closer, barely noticing when his jacket slipped away. “Why?” she asked. “Do I need to warm you up?”

His lips quirked in what might have been a grin had he not been so focused on finding her mouth with his. “Any warmer,” he groaned, “and I’ll be in danger of getting arrested.” He cupped the back of her neck in one big hand and used the other to anchor her chin. Lazily, with no apparent hurry, he kissed her. His lips were firm and warm and took without asking. He tasted faintly of coffee and whipped cream.

“Gil...” The word trailed off on a whimper when he released her chin and found her knee.

Slowly, he glided his palm up her thigh. His whole body jerked when he discovered the edge of her stocking and the tiny satin rosette that was her garter. “Sweet heaven,” he groaned. “You little tease.”

She nipped his chin with sharp teeth. “I spend a lot of time on the job,” she murmured, loosening his tie and unbuttoning two buttons at his throat. “When I dress up, I like feminine lingerie.”

His fingers played with the edge of the stocking, his hand warm and hard. “Promise me something,” he groaned, the words like ground glass.

She felt him trembling and understood the power she wielded. Both exultant and abashed, she struggled to find footing in the quicksand at her feet. Was this right for her? For Gil? What were they doing?

“Promise you what?” she asked. More than anything she wanted to take his hand and push it higher. But they were in a public parking lot, and it was time to pick up Cade.

“Promise me you’ll wear this the first time we’re together.” He caressed the bare skin around her garter with his fingertip. Everything inside her went hot and shaky. She felt reckless, and that was enough to slow her down. Bailey Collins was never reckless. Not in her job and not in her personal life.