World's Most Eligible Texan. Sara Orwig

he answered with a twinkle in his eye.

      “Sorry. It’s just another difference between us.”

      “Well, I won’t converse with you in French, darlin’,” he said, lapsing into a West Texas drawl.

      She smiled slightly, but she didn’t look happy.

      “Believe me, we wouldn’t be out together if there weren’t differences between us,” he said and she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

      All through salads, his sizzling steak and her smoked salmon and new potatoes, he sensed a reserve in her that she hadn’t had before. Something wasn’t quite right, and he didn’t know what it was. But when he looked into her guileless blue eyes, his heart raced. In their depths was desire.

      He could feel that same volatile chemistry between them, that urgency that made sparks dance between them and kept him touching her lightly as often as possible. He wanted her in his arms, as close as possible. He wanted another night with her like the one they’d had. And he knew she was responding to his touches and looks. No matter how coolly she seemed to act, he could see her fiery response in her eyes. Buddies who knew he had taken her home the night of the gala had teased him unmercifully, talking about the ice maiden, the woman no man could touch. He’d learned about her mother. Justin had clued him in on that one, and he dimly remembered hearing things about Dolly Miles and the men who slept with her. Did that have something to do with Pamela’s reserve? But Dolly Miles was of his parents’ generation. Growing up, Aaron had paid little attention to rumors about Dolly Miles. He hadn’t even known she’d a daughter, but Pamela was much younger than he was.

      Over candlelight, he gazed at her, and for once couldn’t eat much of a delicious steak. All he wanted was to devour the woman, looking regal and poised, sitting across from him. He even loved the smattering of freckles across her straight nose. And she was country in all the best ways, down-to-earth, practical. Except there was something she was holding back. He could sense it and there was no mistaking the cool reserve that held her in check most of the evening. Occasionally, he could bring forth a laugh and then the reserve was gone, and once she seemed to forget herself and reached over to grasp his wrist while she told him about a little boy in her second-grade class.