Beneath the Stetson(32)

Becoming Gil’s lover had been eye-opening. Never had she dreamed that inside his no-nonsense exterior was a tiger ready to pounce. He had wooed her, coaxed her, seduced her. And she had been a willing participant every step of the way.

The scent of his skin still clung to her pillowcase. When her body reacted to the images that masculine fragrance evoked, she knew it was time to get up.

After a quick shower, she dried her hair and dressed in the clean clothes she had packed in her overnight case. She made the bed, repacked her things, and carried the bag with her downstairs to set it by the front door. Coming face-to-face with the housekeeper was a bit of a shock, but the older woman never batted an eyelash. She smiled kindly and offered to scramble some eggs or make whatever Bailey wanted for breakfast.

Settling for black coffee seemed the safest choice. Bailey’s stomach fluttered with nerves. Even now, dressed and in control somewhat, the prospect of seeing Gil was nerve-racking. He was a contained man, a private man, and though he had opened up to her last night in a very intimate way, she did not delude herself into thinking that she knew him well. They hadn’t been together long enough for that.

The housekeeper seemed flustered that Gil’s guest wasn’t interested in eating, so to keep the peace, Bailey accepted a plate of toast and carried it and her coffee out onto the back porch. The morning was chilly, but her blazer, the one at which Gil turned up his nose, was warm enough to warrant an alfresco meal.

It was a shock to find that her host had entertained the same idea. He sat on a cushioned wicker love seat, his phone and iPad on the glass-topped table beside him. When Bailey stepped out on the porch, he jumped to his feet. “Join me,” he said, his smile warm.

She would rather have chosen the chair across from him, but that didn’t seem to be an option. Her stomach tightened as she sat down at Gil’s urging, hip to hip with the man who had wakened her twice during the night for lovemaking. Despite her best efforts, her cheeks reddened.

He rested an arm across the back of the seat, his fingers stroking her shoulder lightly. “Did you sleep well?” His voice was a low rumble, the words husky and intimate.

She set the plate of toast, uneaten, on the table, and gulped her coffee, not caring that it scalded her tongue. “Yes.” Staring out across Gil’s beautiful ranch, she pretended an intense interest in the view.

His fingers moved to her neck, just below her ear. “You’re shy,” he accused, humor in his tone.

The innocent caress turned her insides into a soft, yearning puddle of need, reminding her of the danger she faced. She was no more willing than any other woman to have her heart broken. “I’m thirty-three years old. I’m not shy.”

“Then what is it? Look at me, Bailey.”

She half turned, studying the face that had become dear to her. His chiseled good looks added up to so much more than a handsome man. His integrity, his decency, his willingness to do the right thing by his son...all those things touched her heart and made her love him.

Staring into his eyes, she tried not to let him see the revelation that had knocked her sideways. When had she first known the truth about her feelings? Only last night? Or had her regard for him grown almost imperceptibly in the weeks she had studied him in his element? Even during that first interview when he had been angry and borderline obstructive, she had been drawn to his masculinity, to his aura of command, and even to his arrogance.

Some men used their power and influence to ride roughshod over women and anyone they perceived as weak or inferior in any way. But Gil was different. He used his strength and capabilities to protect and support both his son and his wide circle of friends.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that Gil was extremely popular in Royal. He was admired by women and respected by men. The truth was, in all her interviews, no one had ever spoken harshly or critically of Gil. He must have a few enemies or naysayers...most men in his position would. But if he did, she hadn’t come across them yet.

Perhaps her mental “checkout” hadn’t been as long as it seemed. Because Gil waited patiently, his dark-eyed gaze a little too perceptive for her comfort. She didn’t want him to know the truth. She didn’t want him to think she was angling for something permanent. She didn’t want him to think she would be kind to his son to win points.

“I enjoyed last night,” she said quietly, her mouth dry and her throat constricted. “But I do have a job I need to attend to. It’s late. I have to get back to town.”

He frowned. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can just walk away after last night?”