Million Dollar Cowboy (Cupid, Texas #5)(116)

"I'm sorry," she said, meaning to sound firm, but somehow her words came out alarmingly shaky. "But we've got a strict schedule to keep and we're not opening to the public until one-thirty."

"It's one-ten." He turned his wrists so she could see the face of his expensive watch. Show off.

"Rules are rules."

"Even in my case?" He gave her a look that said, are you kidding me right now? As if she should know who he was. As if he was somebody.

Cocky. He was amazing and he knew it.

His attitude rubbed her the wrong way. He wasn't different than any of the other people lining up waiting to be let in. Peeved and vowing not to be swayed by his lively eyes and knowing grin, she pointed to the sidewalk. "Out, mister."

"But-"

"No excuses."

"I'm-"

"Go." She snapped her fingers, gave him her fiercest scowl, even though her knees were shaky. He didn't have to know that.

Instead of leaving, he strolled closer. Paige's heart hopped onto a trampoline and flipped into her throat. Now what?

The stranger observed her with half-lidded eyes and intense interest, as if she were the most fascinating creature he'd ever seen. The hair at the nape of her neck tickled and her heart hiccupped. She wasn't accustomed to this kind of scrutiny from a gorgeous man.



       
         
       
        

"No one has to know you let me in twenty minutes early," he whispered.

He was fully in control. He knew it. She knew it. They both knew she was putty in the glare of his sexy stare.

Damn him.

"Leave," she said, and added unsteadily, "please."

"What do I have to do to get you to bend the rules?" he coaxed, dipping his head, lowering his lips. "Will a kiss do the trick?"

He was teasing, trying to get her goat. She could see it in his eyes, but the joke tumbled into the pit of her anxiety, pinged off her every nerve ending, chaotic as bouncing flippers in a pinball machine.

She supposed he was trying to scare her off, get her to back down. Standing here smelling his stunning scent, feeling the heat from his rock-solid body radiate into her, she wanted, more than anything on the face of the earth, to turn tail and run.

But she wouldn't.

Couldn't

For one thing, she'd promised Emma she'd guard the door. For another, if she took off running in the stilletoes she'd certainly fall and bust her ass.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

He must have seen something on her face, in her body language, because he stepped back, put his hand on the door. "Only eighteen more minutes now."

"And that's when you can come in." She pointed, surprised by how forceful and commanding her words shot out like a drill sergeant.

He grinned at that, devilishly, frankly amused, and latched onto her gaze with eyes the color of San Francisco fog. Not that Paige knew firsthand. She'd never been out of Texas. But she had dreams.

Big dreams.

Dreams she believed long out of her reach.

Those dusky eyes held the promise of landscapes she yearned for-windswept moors and craggy mountains, foamy ocean waves and red-rock deserts, stony castles and petal-strewn gardens.

He'd been around. Seen the world.

And his magnificent, experienced eyes left her winded and wondering and wanting.

Wanting so much more than she had a right to claim.

Dear Lord. She clicked the lock on that pitch of desire. Slammed it shut. Spun the tumbler. Steeled her gaze. Offered him nothing.

His eyes gentled, no longer filled with daring mischief, and nonchalantly shifted his attention to the door. Which she was grateful for because it meant he was going.

And when he turned, she had an unobstructed view of his butt cupped so enticingly in those faded Levi's. A cowboy's butt-firm, muscular, built for endurance, a masculine butt that dared her to touch.

She hauled in a short, shallow breath, and ignored her tingling fingers.

The sleeves of his denim jacket were pushed up enough to reveal tanned wrists roped with strong veins. Long, calloused fingers took hold of the knob. No adornment on his hands. No rings or tattoos. Plain. Durable. Bare. 

Simple but not simplistic, he was a man of rugged style and surprising grace.

He opened the door. Going. Leaving.

Yay. So why did she want to throw herself onto the marble tile floor, throw her arms around his ankles, and beg him to stay?

"One more thing." He turned back to her, eyes twinkling, and stared at her a long moment without saying a word. But his mouth, oh his knowing mouth, quirked up at the corners as if to say, I know you're as intrigued by me as I am by you.

She gave him a polite, noncommital smile in return. He might be interested right now, but he wouldn't be if he knew the truth.