His other hand lifted to her face, his fingertips skimming lightly over the swollen curve of her bottom lip.
The gentle touch set off bursts of erotic tingles that warned her to put some distance between them before she urged him to forget his mother’s teachings.
“Good night,” she said softly.
He stepped back, and Erin fumbled with the keys in her hand for a moment before she found the right one for the door. She fumbled some more fitting it into the lock, but then the bolt released with a click.
Corey didn’t say anything else, but he waited on the step until she’d slipped inside and locked the door again, then he turned away.
Erin watched from the window as he walked back to his car and reminded herself that she’d done the right thing, the smart thing, in letting him go. There was too much uncertainty in her life to consider any kind of personal involvement right now.
But that knowledge didn’t stop her from wishing otherwise.
Chapter Three
It was a kiss, Corey reminded himself—for the umpteenth time—as he got dressed the next morning.
Yeah, it had been pretty spectacular as far as kisses go, but it was still just a kiss. Certainly there wasn’t any reason for him to have lain awake into the wee hours of the morning thinking about that kiss—and the woman he’d shared it with.
But the truth was, even before they’d shared that one scorching kiss, he’d been haunted by thoughts of Erin Castro.
Thoughts of wanting to kiss Erin Castro.
He shook his head as he tugged on his jeans.
He didn’t know what it was about the woman that had gotten under his skin. Sure, she was attractive in a classic blue-eyed, blond-haired, porcelain-skinned, soft curves sort of way.
Okay, more than attractive. He hadn’t been giving her a line when they were dancing and he’d told her she was the most beautiful woman at the wedding because from the first moment he’d set eyes on her, he hadn’t seen anyone else.
And now that he had kissed her, now that he’d tasted the sweet seductive flavor that was hers alone, he worried that he’d made a mistake. Because now he wanted more.
Cursing himself for his weakness, he picked up his phone and dialed the number he’d obtained from directory assistance. She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Erin, it’s Corey.”
“Corey?” She sounded distracted, as if he’d caught her in the middle of something. Or maybe as if she didn’t recognize the name.
He was frowning over that possibility when she spoke again.
“Oh, Dillon’s brother. Hi.”
Dillon’s brother?
That was how she thought of him? How about the man who’d taken her home the night before? The man who’d kissed her breathless and continued to kiss her until they’d both wanted a lot more?
But of course he didn’t ask any of those questions. He didn’t want her to confirm that he’d thought about her a lot more than she’d thought about him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection right away,” she said. “I just—you caught me when my mind was wandering.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” he prompted.
“Well, I guess that depends on why you’re calling,” she said.
“Partly just to find out how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine.”
“You said you had too much champagne last night, so I wanted to make sure you weren’t suffering any lingering effects today.”
“Champagne. Right. Well, that certainly explains the… uh…”
She faltered, and he suspected that she was thinking about that kiss again. Or maybe he just wanted to believe she was thinking about it because he was.
“…the headache I had this morning,” she continued. “But I took a couple of aspirin with breakfast and I’m fine now.”
“Good,” he said, even while silently wishing he could rid himself of the residual effects of the night so easily. But he suspected that the only thing that could cure his craving for Erin was Erin herself.
“And since you’ve already had breakfast—which was the other reason I was calling—why don’t you let me take you to lunch?”
“Lunch?”
“You know—the meal usually served in the middle of the day,” he teased.
“Yes, I do know what lunch is,” she assured him. “I’m just not sure I understand why you’re inviting me to have lunch with you.”
“Because I don’t like to eat alone. And because I really enjoyed spending time with you last night and I’d like to get to know you better.”
Erin was tempted—too tempted—to jump at his invitation. And not just because she knew he would be able to distract her from the questions that had been pounding inside of her head since she’d seen that picture of Grant Clifton’s sister the night before. Unfortunately, all of the rea sons that Corey would be such a great distraction were the same reasons that she had to refuse. Because she was far too attracted to the man, because she couldn’t think of anything else when he was near and because she could very well end up with her heart broken when he went back to Texas.
So instead of accepting, she said, “I’m afraid I may have given you the wrong impression last night.”
There was a pause, as if he was surprised by her response. And he probably was because she’d no doubt given him the impression of a wild, willing woman who wanted to gobble him up in big, greedy bites.
And the impression wasn’t really wrong, but it was misleading because nothing like that was going to happen between them. She couldn’t let things move in that direction with him while her life was veering off course in so many other ways.
“The only impression I got,” he finally said, “was that of a smart, beautiful woman who was the last thought on my mind before I fell asleep last night and the first when I woke up this morning.”
“Oh. Wow.” Erin didn’t know what else to say. Was it the words, she wondered, that made her heart pound so fast? Or the sensual tone that turned the words into a verbal seduction?
She used her free hand to fan her flushed cheeks, grateful that he couldn’t see what she was doing, couldn’t know the effect that he had on her, even over a phone line.
“Then you definitely got the wrong impression because I’m really not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”
“I invited you to lunch, darlin’, not to shop for an engagement ring,” he said.
The heat in her cheeks intensified. He was right—she was overreacting. But even an invitation to lunch was dangerous when she wasn’t sure she could control her instinctive response to the man issuing the invitation.
“I know,” she said. “But I still don’t think lunch is a good idea.”
“Because you’re philosophically opposed to eating in the middle of the day?”
She had to smile. “Because you’re far too charming for your own good.”
“You think I’m charming?”
“I’m