Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(22)

The minute he opened the kitchen door, something smelled so good Boone’s mouth started watering.

Then his gaze lit on Maddie, and he almost groaned out loud.

She looked right at home. And she looked good, damn it.

Her dark hair was piled haphazardly on her head, anchored by what looked like chopsticks that shimmied gently as she turned. “Hi. Ready to eat?” Maddie smiled.

“I told you not to cook for me.”

“No, you told me I didn’t have to cook for you. I miss cooking. Gotta keep my knife hand sharp.”

The sparkle in her eyes, the mischief in her grin, both drew him like a beacon.

As if ignoring her presence in the night ahead wasn’t already going to be tough enough.

He should get started ignoring her now—but man, did something smell good.

Her smile widened. “No radish roses, I promise.”

Boone couldn’t help his own grin. “Don’t tell me—tofu burgers instead.”

Maddie’s laugh started out pure and clear like a bell, then slid down the scale to low, sultry chuckle. For a moment, all Boone could do was stare. Escaping tendrils of her hair curled around a face flushed from the stove’s heat, and she had a smudge of flour on one cheek. She wore old cutoff jeans and another one of those damn too-short tops that exposed the smooth skin of her midriff. One of Vondell’s aprons was wrapped around that sweet patch of skin right now—but Boone knew it was there.

And his fingers wanted to touch it.

Badly.

Just one slow slide of fingertips across satin. It would be satin, he was sure of it.

“I’m happy to know you’re interested,” she said.

His body responded so fast that Boone almost got whiplash, jerking his head up. “You…are?” he croaked.

“I like tofu burgers. I make great ones.”

Damn. Close call. She would know his thoughts if he didn’t get control, quick.

Then he looked closer. Within that sparkle of mischief, the sure instinct of a woman gleamed. Her pupils went dark in silent response to him.

It was already too late. She knew.

His gaze slid down to those lips that drove him crazy. His hands flexed, fingers ready to slide beneath that apron.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything. Maybe they could—

No. The old prickling warning stopped him. Nothing would be simple or easy with Maddie. He would want more than one roll in the hay with this woman.

Boone tore his gaze away and stared toward the hall, clearing a throat gone suddenly parched. “I’ve got horse and sweat all over me. Do I have time to shower?”

He risked one glance at Maddie. The smooth skin above her bodice flushed rosy. Her lips were slightly parted, and the mischief had fled from her eyes. He saw a different Maddie—unsteady and vulnerable, not her usual cheerful, indomitable self. Boone realized he’d come to expect Maddie to always rise to the challenge, to stay unflappable in her own flaky way.

He didn’t like knowing that he’d caused it. Not when there was no future in pursuing it.

Oh, he’d like to rattle Maddie, big-time. He’d like to rock the foundations of her world. Drown himself in making love to her and pull her into the whirlpool with him.

But Maddie didn’t belong here. She wouldn’t stay.

And he wasn’t leaving this place again. Couldn’t afford to have it haunted anymore than it already was.

Almost a whisper, her answer drifted to him in that damn husky voice. “Ten minutes enough?”

Boone felt the sting of wry amusement, but he didn’t grin. Ten years wouldn’t be enough.

“Ten minutes it is.” Boone made a grateful escape.



He wanted her.

Maddie stared across the now-empty kitchen, her mind reeling like a drunk in search of the next bottle.

Then her common sense took over.

Boone might want her, but he didn’t like her. Robert had once wanted her, too. Had praised her, turned her head with compliments, made her feel unique and special. At first.

But it had been as much because he’d needed her and the flair he had praised to insure the success of the restaurant. Maddie knew now that she had been the magic ingredient that had packed the place every night. It wasn’t arrogant to admit that—she’d had many reports that the restaurant stood half-empty most nights now. The patrons apparently missed both her cooking and the visits she made to the tables. Maddie loved feeding people, listening to them, keeping up with their families. Making them her family.

It was pathetic how long it had taken Maddie to realize that exactly the color and flair that made her a prized chef had been what Robert had tried to stamp out of her when the restaurant doors were closed. As if she should have some off/on switch like he did—all charm and grace during working hours but all Boston propriety the rest of the time.