He thought of what he’d like to do with that mouth, how badly he wanted to taste it, and cleared his throat.
“Ah,” he said, shaking his head sadly, “and here I thought the widow Willingham was about to offer a full apology for her behavior. So much for the mystique of Southern good manners.”
“My manners are usually impeccable. And how can you be so certain I’m from the South?”
He chuckled. “‘An’ how can you be so suhtain Ah’m from th’South?’” he said.
Stephanie tried not to smile, but it was impossible. “I’m glad my accent amuses you, Mr. Chambers.”
“I promise you, Mrs. Willingham, I’m not laughing at you. Matter of fact, I like your drawl. It’s very feminine.”
“If you’re waiting for me to say I like the sound of your Montana twang, Mr. Chambers—”
“Montana?” David slapped his hand over his heart. “Good God, woman, you do know how to wound a man. I’m from Wyoming.”
“Oh.”
“Oh? Is that all you can say, after you accuse me of being from a state where the cows outnumber the people three to one?” He grinned. “At least, in Wyoming, we only have one critter that walks upright for every two point something that moos.”
Stephanie laughed politely. “My apologies.”
“Apologies accepted. And, just for the record, I have no accent.”
Her smile was warm and open this time. He had an accent; she was sure he knew it as well as she did. His voice was low and husky; it reminded her of high mountains and wide open spaces, of a place where the night sky would be bright with stars and the grassy meadows would roll endlessly toward the horizon....
“Gotcha,” he said softly.
Stephanie blinked. “What?”
“You smiled,” David said with a little smile of his own. “Really smiled. And I agree.”
“Agree about what?” she said in total confusion.
“That we got off to the wrong start.”
She considered the possibility. Perhaps they had. He seemed a nice enough man, this friend of Annie’s. There was no denying his good looks, and he had a sense of humor, too. Not that she was interested in him. Not that she’d ever be interested in any man. Still, that was no reason not to be polite. Pleasant, even. This was just one day out of her life. One afternoon. And what had he done, when you came down to it? Looked at her, that was all. Just looked at her, and even though she hated it, she was accustomed to it.
Men had always looked at her, even before Avery had come along.
Besides, she wasn’t guiltless. For one heart-stopping instant, for one quick spin of the planet, she’d looked at David and felt—she’d felt...
“Stephanie?”
She raised her head. David was watching her, eyes dark and intense.
“How about we begin over?”
He held out his hand. Stephanie hesitated. Then, very slowly and carefully, she lifted her hand from her lap and placed it in his.
“That’s it,” he said softly. His fingers closed around hers. They were warm, and hard, and calloused. That surprised her. Despite what he’d said about being from the west, despite the cowboy boots and the ponytail and the incredible width of his shoulders, everything about him whispered of wealth and power. Men like that didn’t have hands that bore the imprint of hard work, not in her world.
He bent his head toward hers. She knew she ought to pull back but she couldn’t. His eyes were still locked on hers. They seemed to draw her in.
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Stephanie.”
“Mr. Chambers...”
“I thought we’d progressed to David.”
“David.” Stephanie ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. She saw him follow the motion with his eyes and the tiny flame that had come to life hours before sprang up again deep within her. A warning tingled along her skin. “David,” she said again, “I think—I think it’s nice that we made peace with each other, but—”
“We should be honest, too.”
“I am being honest. I don’t want—”
“Yes. You do want.” His voice had taken on a roughness. A huskiness. It made the trembling flame within her burn brighter. “We both do.”
“No!”
He could feel the sudden tension radiating from her fingers to his. Don’t be a fool, David told himself fiercely. There was plenty of time. The longer it took to go from that first beat of sexual awareness to the bed, the greater the pleasure. He’d lived long enough to know that.
But he couldn’t slow down. Not with this woman. He wanted her, now. Right now. He wanted her beneath him, her body naked to his hands and mouth, her eyes liquid with desire as he touched her, entered her.
“Come with me,” he said urgently. “I have a car outside. We’ll find a hotel.”
“You bastard!” She tore her hand from his. “Is that what the past few minutes were all about?”
“No,” he said, trying to deny it, as much to himself as to her. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, that the slightest gust of wind could come by and send him tumbling out into space. He’d met women before, wanted them, but not like this. Not with a need so fierce it obliterated everything else. “Stephanie—”
“Don’t ‘Stephanie’ me!” She shoved back her chair. Her face was flushed; she glared at him, her mouth trembling. “You’ve wasted your time, Mr. Chambers. I know your game.”
“Dammit, it isn’t a game! I saw you, and I wanted you. And you wanted me. That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it? Because you felt the same thing, only you’re afraid to admit it.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, Mr. Chambers, especially not of a man like you.”
It was a lie. She was afraid; he saw it in her eyes, in the feverish color in her cheeks.
“I know your type, sir. You see a woman like me, your mind goes rolling straight into the gutter.”
“What?” he said with an incredulous little laugh.
“As for what I want... You flatter yourself. I’d no more want you in my bed than I’d want a cottonmouth moccasin there! Why would I? Why would any woman in her right mind want to subjugate herself to a—a—”
“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”
Stephanie clamped her lips together. She and David both looked up. Annie Cooper stood over them, smiling happily.
“Annie,” David said after a minute. He cleared his throat. “Hello.”
“I hated to interrupt,” Annie said, smiling. “You two were so deep in conversation.”
Stephanie looked at David, then at Annie. “Uh, yes. Yes, we were.” She smiled brightly. “It’s a lovely wedding, Annie. Really lovely.”
Annie pulled out a chair and sat down. “So,” she said slyly, “I figured right, hmm?”
“Figured right?”
“About you guys.” Annie grinned. “Dawn and I were doing the seating chart and Dawn said to me, ‘Mom, except for Nicky, the best-looking man at the wedding is going to be Uncle David.’ And I said to her, ‘Well, except for you, my gorgeous, too-young-to-be-a-bride daughter, the most beautiful woman at the wedding is going to be your very own