“Both.”
Emily’s brows went up. “Do tell.”
“He’s different” was all she said.
He came across as a man who didn’t rile easily, was in fact paternal and protective, but he also simmered with passion. He just kept a tight rein on it. She could tell when he’d been restraining himself.
That kind of self-control, Victoria thought, was even sexier. And it made her want to break through it.
She dipped her spoon into the pudding again just as the cowboy in question took a seat at the bar, not close enough to talk to, but close enough to exchange glances. The bartender drew a draft and set it in front of Garrett without any words being spoken. He lifted his glass toward Victoria, took a sip and looked away.
“You’re blushing,” Emily said then looked around, her gaze landing on Garrett, who steadfastly stared at the wall of bottles behind the bartender. “Is that him?” Emily whispered.
“Who?”
Emily gave her a tolerant look. “Your therapist.”
“Yes. And don’t you dare put him on your Baby Plan list.”
Emily turned again and caught him studying them. “He’d make great babies, don’t you think? Tall and lean, and those ooh-la-la blue eyes.”
“Off-limits,” Victoria said, feeling her face heat up even more. “Anyway, I thought you were looking to adopt. At least that was your plan a week ago.”
“That was originally my goal, but looking at Cowboy Freud here, I don’t know….” She grinned. “Don’t fret, Vicki. I can see you’ve got the hots for him. I won’t unleash my considerable charms on your man.”
“He’s not my man.” She scraped her bowl for the last taste of pudding.
“Yet.”
“I’ll be going home in a couple of days.”
“I didn’t hear you say you weren’t attracted.”
Victoria shrugged. Attracted? What a mild word …
Garrett stood then and moved to sit next to Emily. They made a beautiful couple. She was several inches taller than Victoria. Her blond hair was more golden than his darker blond, but they fit together.
So much for his being a loner. She tried to remember why she’d labeled him that in her mind.
“Evenin’, Ms. Fortune,” he said, looking at Victoria.
“Hello, Mr. Stone.” The fact they’d shared a passionate kiss and were being so formal with each other made her heart beat faster, as if she was hiding something, when usually her life was an open book. She introduced him to her cousin.
“You following me?” he asked Victoria over the rim of his glass.
She arched her brows. “I believe we were sitting right here when you arrived,” she said, pointing out the obvious, not appreciating Emily’s curious and rather amused expression.
“Everyone knows I’m here every Sunday night ‘round this time.”
“I’m new in town. No one thought to add me to the Garrett Stone Sunday Routine loop.”
Marcos came up to them and shook Garrett’s hand, welcoming him. No, she hadn’t known, but Marcos certainly must have, and he’d issued the command performance to come to Red tonight. Why?
“Were Em’s and my desserts Wendy’s creations? Is that why you insisted we come tonight?” Victoria asked Marcos, making sure that Garrett knew exactly who was responsible for her being at Red tonight.
“Only the flan recipe on the dessert menu isn’t hers, although she’s talking about creating a chocolate version.”
A server put a plate of enchiladas in front of Garrett, smiled flirtatiously at him—or maybe knowingly—then sauntered away. Marcos excused himself, then Emily stood.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said.
Victoria was glad for the empty seat between her and Garrett because she wanted too much to sit closer, to brush arms, to straddle him right where he sat. “So, you come in every Sunday night for enchiladas?”
“And to pick up a standing order for a week’s worth of dinners.”
“You don’t cook, I guess.”
“I barbecue now and then, and breakfast and lunch are easy, but dinner’s a challenge. They freeze individual portions for me. Makes it simple.”
“You don’t get tired of eating the same things night after night?”
“Nope.” He scooped up a mixture of rice and beans then chewed thoughtfully while watching her. After he swallowed, he said, “You okay after today?”
“So far, so good.” She couldn’t remember being this tempted by a man. She’d had plenty of flirtations in her life, but she craved Garrett. He’d dominated her dreams for months, had held her hand for an hour, kissed her once—but very well—and now he was just sitting there, eating, and she wanted to go home with him.
He eyed her. “Your cheeks are pink.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“You sure you’re just not remembering our kiss?”
She angled her body toward him and crossed her legs, pleased that the kiss was on his mind, too. “I told you I was a good kisser.”
“It takes two.”
She smiled leisurely. “It certainly does.”
He gave her a cool look, which made her laugh.
“When do you go back to Atlanta?” he asked.
“Soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She leaned closer. “I’d like to see you again.”
“Why?” He didn’t seem surprised, which annoyed her.
“You interest me,” she said.
“And you usually get what you want, I expect.”
She thought she should be offended by that, but realized he was speaking the truth as he saw it. She was a Fortune, therefore her life must never hit any speed bumps.
“Most of the time I guess I do,” she answered, although she’d never wanted anything that mattered a whole lot—until now.
He stood, tossed a couple of bills down for the bartender, then swiped his hat off the bar top. Was he going to take off without another word?
“May I come out to your place tomorrow?” she asked, her insides churning. He apparently didn’t have a high opinion of her. She’d like the opportunity to change that.
“Not a good idea.”
Her brows went up. “That wasn’t a no.”
He touched a finger to her chin, then dragged it down her neck, his expression intense. “It sure as hell wasn’t a yes. Good night, princess.”
“See you around, cowboy,” she replied, pleased her voice didn’t shake.
She watched him walk away and sighed. The skin he’d touched still burned. She’d always wondered what it would be like to want a man like that, really want him. Now she knew.
It probably wasn’t smart on her part, trying to get him to meet with her again and see what happened, but an insistent voice in her head—and heart—was telling her to pursue him. She’d always been the resistant one, the person to keep a suitor at arm’s length. Now the tables were turned, and she totally understood the frustration of being rejected, or at least being held off.
She