World's Most Eligible Texan (5 page)

Why was she going? What would she wear? Was he doing this to sleep with her again? That question brought her up short and a flash of shame and anger burned in her.

She turned to a small mirror and shook her finger at her reflection. “Pamela, you were easy. Get a backbone where he is concerned! You'll have to send him packing tonight and stay cool, cool, cold.”

She thought of guys who had called her frigid. Where was all that coldness she could turn on so easily with others?

She looked down at her flat stomach and splayed her fingers against it. A baby. Aaron's baby. He must never, never know. But in spite of the foolishness of getting pregnant in her first night of lovemaking, in spite of how it would turn her life upside down and in spite of all the struggles of being a single mother, she couldn't stop being thrilled and awed. Her own precious baby. Aaron's baby.

She knew from teaching the struggles the young single mothers and dads had, how they had to be everything for their kids and juggle jobs and schedules, but she would do it. Her own baby. Aaron's baby. This baby had a wonderful father.

Aaron has a right to know about his baby.

That thought was an unwanted one. He might have a right to know, but if he did, she knew he would want to do the right thing, and out of duty he would insist they marry. His family would hate her and think she had trapped him. No, he wasn't going to know, and he would marry some beautiful woman who was the right kind of woman for him and have his own family someday. She was certain of that. This was the only way it could be because Aaron would never be happy married to a woman like her. Not ever. And she didn't want duty or pity or charity. She couldn't bear to see him feeling trapped.

“Go to dinner and send him back to Spain. You know how to turn men off,” she said and wondered when she had started talking out loud to herself and realized it had been since she met Aaron.

She threw up her hands and went to find something to wear
tonight. Her life had changed forever today—pregnant, dinner tonight with Aaron. He had come home to take her out! To get to know her better. A pang of longing made her tremble. Why did it have to be this way! “Because of my own carelessness,” she answered herself.

Long ago she could remember Dr. Woodbury asking her if she wanted a prescription for the Pill and her turning him down, saying she wasn't dating and there was no need. When he had lectured her, she had turned a deaf ear. She should have listened, but then she touched her stomach again and knew she really had no regrets. She adored little children and this would be her own baby, something she had never dreamed possible.

Dinner with Aaron. If only— She shut her mind to following that line of thought, but she couldn't resist touching her throat and remembering his lips brushing against her.

 

Aaron whistled as he drove. He was excited, eager and he had to laugh at that hamburger stashed in her purse.

“No, darlin', I don't know any women like you and that's what's so wonderful about you. I like a country girl,” he said out loud. It was refreshing to know she was going to tell him what she thought and not twist things all around or play games with him.

She couldn't believe he was here to take her out, but he would convince her. And maybe they wouldn't get along as well as he expected, but he had to find out. Maybe this was a bunch of foolishness on his part, but he knew he was excited, happy, and felt better than he had since the night of the gala.

At seven that evening his pulse raced while he stood at her front door and punched the bell. The door swung open and she smiled at him. His pulse jumped another notch at the sight of her. Her shiny black hair was short, straight, hanging loosely with the ends curling under just below her ears in a simple, uncomplicated hairdo that was like the rest of her. Her dress was an indigo sheath that clung to her slender figure. She didn't wear jewelry and had very little makeup, but she
took his breath away, and, for an instant, he saw her without the dress, as he remembered her from that first night, slender, curvaceous, supple, warm, so damn giving and open to him.

“Hi,” he said, his husky voice betraying what he was feeling.

“Come in,” she said quietly, her blue eyes pulling him into their depths, and he wanted to say to hell with dinner and take her into his arms and straight to that tiny little virginal bedroom she had. Instead, he watched her as he walked inside. As soon as she closed the door, he turned to face her. He inhaled her perfume, a scent of lilacs, and it was an effort to keep from reaching for her, but he knew he'd better keep some kind of distance. The lady wasn't overwhelmed with eagerness to go out with him tonight.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling with her cheeks flushing and a sparkle coming to her eyes that made him feel better. Why was she so solemn? She hadn't been that way that first night. He felt like he had done something wrong, but he couldn't imagine what.

“I'll get my coat. You look nice, too, Aaron, very elegant in your navy suit,” she said shyly, and he couldn't keep from reaching out to brush her cheek lightly with his fingers.

“Thanks, darlin'. I've been getting ready for this date since I drove away from your place this afternoon.”

She gave him an I-don't-believe-you look and turned to get her coat. He watched the gentle, sexy sway of her hips and tried to get his thoughts elsewhere because the slightest little thing with her could turn him on in a flash. For the first time he noticed the small elastic bandage that wrapped one slender ankle and he wondered if that was a lingering result of an injury during the rough landing of the Asterland jet.

His hands trembled slightly as he held her coat, brushing his fingers across her nape and trying to keep from taking her into his arms. She couldn't have any idea how badly he wanted her.

“You have a bandage on your ankle,” he said when she
turned around to face him. Unable to keep from touching her, he smoothed the collar of her coat.

“I had torn ligaments in my ankle because of the plane's rough landing. I'm supposed to wear this bandage two more weeks. I thought about leaving it off tonight and seeing how I get along, but that might not be a good idea.”

“Bandage or no bandage, your legs are beautiful. You wear it as long as you're supposed to,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes while she gazed back at him and tension coiled between them.

“We should go, Aaron,” she reminded him solemnly. He took her arm, still wondering about the barriers she had thrown up between them. When they left, she locked her apartment. He took her arm to walk to the car, looking at the flash of her shapely legs again as she slid into his black car.

When he entered the stream of traffic in the street in front of her apartment complex, Aaron glanced in the rearview mirror out of habit. He had spent years abroad, sometimes involved in intrigue, sometimes residing in countries that didn't welcome Americans, so he was accustomed to checking his surroundings and did it without thought. And, through habit, he noticed the black car turning into traffic a few cars behind him. When he got to Claire's, Royal's finest restaurant, instead of driving up immediately for valet parking, he circled the block.

“If you're looking for a parking spot, they have plenty in the back of their lot,” Pamela said.

“Just driving around,” he answered casually, aware she was watching him. In the rearview mirror, he saw the same black car turn the corner behind him, just as he turned another corner.

“I think we're being followed,” he said, glancing at her to see what her reaction would be.

“Have you brought someone all the way from Spain to follow you around Royal, Texas?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “Surely not!”

He turned back toward Main Street and slid to a stop at the
curb, knowing he was squarely in front of a fire hydrant, but he would be there only briefly. She didn't guess she might be the one being followed.

“No, darlin', I don't think so,” he drawled, waiting. The car swung around the corner and had to pass him. He watched and pulled into the street behind the car.

The sedan had darkened windows, but when he drove behind it, he could see the silhouettes of two men. He noted the license tag, memorizing the number. At the corner they turned away from the restaurant and he turned toward it, driving up in front to let a valet park his car, but the incident worried him. He took her arm to walk to the front door of the restaurant.

“If they weren't following you—no one would be following a second-grade school teacher, Aaron. That's absurd.”

“Maybe.” He remembered talking to Justin about the site of the forced landing of the Asterland jet and all the questions the plane's malfunction had raised. Was Pamela in any danger? He reached out to open the door for her.

“You've spent too much time involved in European intrigue. You're in Royal, Texas, with a teacher from Royal Elementary. Nothing exciting here.”

He stopped to face her, suddenly blocking her way. Startled, she looked up at him.
“Au contraire,”
he said solemnly, brushing her hair away from her cheek. “Being with you is the most excitement I've known in a long, long time.”

“There you go again, pouring on charm thicker than molasses,” she teased, making light of his statement, but her words sounded breathless and pink filled her cheeks.

“I mean it, lady,” he said and moved out of her way, following her inside. He passed her to talk to the maitre d' and then they were ushered to a table with candlelight, a red rose in a crystal vase and a white linen tablecloth. When he ordered a bottle of French white wine, she interrupted.

“Aaron, I'll just drink water. I'm not much into wine or drinks.”

She had been that night. She'd had wine at the gala and
another glass at his house. Maybe that had been a once-in-a-year thing. He knew so little about her, but he wanted to know everything. He ordered the wine for himself and water for her, wondering why everything she liked or said or did was so important to him.

“Do you like French food?” he asked. “If not, Chef Etienne does broil steaks—a concession to the steak-eating Texans. I know because I'm one of them.”

She studied the fancy menu. “I see salmon that I'd like.”

When their waiter returned for their order, Aaron said, “The lady will have the
saumon fumé avec pommes de terre primeurs au beurre de persil,”
he ordered in what sounded to her like flawless French. “I'll have a steak, medium rare, and a baked potato.”

“You really do speak French fluently, don't you?” she asked as soon as they were alone.

“You make it sound like I rob gas stations often,” 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.

While he laughed with her, he was far more aware of her fingers holding his wrist. He twisted his hand around and grasped hers, raising it to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. Instantly, she drew her breath and fires flickered in her gaze.

“Let's go home,” he said in a husky voice and after a moment's hesitation, she nodded.

When she slipped her hand away from his, he motioned to their waiter. As soon as the waiter left them alone again, as Aaron put away his wallet, she touched his hand.

“Aaron, we rushed things before. I don't want to do that again.”

He knew instantly what she was telling him, and he could not keep from being swamped with longing and disappointment. He wanted her in his arms again, bare to him, loving
him totally, but lovemaking had to be the lady's choice. When he nodded solemnly, she looked relieved.

Was it her past? Her mother's reputation that she feared? Surely not. That was long ago. It had been her mother, not her. Pamela had a reputation for being circumspect and untouchable. Aaron certainly would do nothing to change that reputation either. He hadn't said a word about her spending the night at his house. His friends just knew they'd left the gala early together. Aaron had said he had taken her home and as far as townspeople were concerned, she was still Miss Untouchable, so how could it be that?