The Rancher's Marriage Pact. KRISTI GOLDЧитать онлайн книгу.
barked out a soft laugh. “I can’t think of one.”
“I can, but I’m guessing your ex never tapped into your innate abilities.”
“My ex rarely tapped into anything after our first year of marriage.”
Without giving it a thought, Dallas reached over and pushed that sliver of golden hair away from her face. “The man had to be an idiot. Is that why you divorced him?”
She suddenly looked more than a little uncomfortable. “He divorced me, remember? Not that I thought the marriage had any chance of surviving at that juncture. Anyway, I should probably be going before it gets any later.”
He really didn’t want her to leave but he had no one to blame but himself for bringing up past history. “It’s barely eight.”
“And I still have to drive back to San Antonio.”
When Paris pushed back from the table, came to her feet and swayed, Dallas stood and caught her arm. “Are you okay?”
She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I was fine until I got up. Guess I’m a little tired. That drink went straight to my head.”
As he’d predicted, Jenny’s mint juleps had claimed another unsuspecting victim. He should’ve warned Paris that she could be heavy-handed with the bourbon. “Come to think of it, you had two.”
She sent him a shaky smile. “I did, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did, which means you’re in no shape to drive.”
Her stern expression didn’t take away from her fantastic face. “I can’t very well stay here.”
“You can, and you will. I have several guest rooms. Five, in fact. Take your pick.” If he had his way, she’d pick his room. But he’d been taught never to take advantage of a woman under the influence.
“I didn’t pack a bag,” she protested. “I’m sure if I lie down for a little while, I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t have much faith in that. “We’ll see how you feel later, but I’m not going to let you get behind the wheel tonight if I think you’re not fit to drive. End of discussion.”
Clasping her elbow, Dallas led Paris through the double sliding doors, into the sunroom and guided her to the great room. He took one look at the towering staircase and decided showing her to his downstairs quarters would be the better part of valor.
He continued down the corridor and past the kitchen where he noticed Jenny cleaning up the dishes. He didn’t dare stop although he knew he’d have to do some serious explaining if she caught sight of them heading to the bedroom. He’d wager his inheritance she had. Not a problem. He had a bone to pick with her over the booze.
Once they arrived at the back of the house, he let go of Paris long enough to open the double doors before grasping her arm to steady her.
She took him by surprise when she wrenched out of his hold and headed to the bed. “This looks heavenly,” she said as she fell back on the mattress and laughed. “What a lovely guest room.”
“It’s my room,” he muttered. “I wasn’t sure you could make it up the stairs.”
She giggled again when she kicked off her shoes and one landed on top of the dresser several feet away, barely missing the mirror. “Are you trying to ruin my reputation, sir?”
“I’m trying to keep you from breaking your neck.” He crossed the room and held out his hands. “Hop up so I can turn down the covers.”
She accepted the gesture but instead of stepping aside, she stepped right into his arms. And then she did the one thing he’d been avoiding all night, yet wanted more than anything. She planted her mouth on his.
She looked like a saint and kissed like a sinner. Oh, yeah, she was a natural. She had mighty fine lips and met his tongue stroke for stroke. He roved his palms down her slender back and paused right before he reached her butt, which took a lot of effort.
He intended to stop it before they went too far. Stop short before it went too deep. But when she pressed that sweet body against his, he tossed all those well-intentioned plans to the plains. And the longer this went on, the more he wanted to take her back onto the bed...or ignore all formality and take her down to the floor.
Without warning, Paris pulled away and touched her fingertips to her mouth like she’d been burned. “I’m not normally that bold.”
He liked her that bold. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m a little bit tipsy,” she said, her speech slurred. “I came here to convince you to hire me, not to drink and make out with you.”
That made him feel like an oversexed teenager. “It was just a kiss, Paris.” One knock-em-dead kiss. “And I’m the one who should’ve stopped it.”
Paris dropped down on the edge of the mattress. “I’m really not...normally...like this.” She followed the comment with a hiccup and a giggle.
“You’ve got a good excuse,” he said as he pulled her up again and set her aside to turn down the comforter. “Now lie down and sleep it off.”
“Okay,” she said through a yawn. “But don’t let me sleep too long. I have to...” Her eyes drifted closed then opened again. “Hmmm. I have to do something tomorrow but I can’t remember what.”
Dallas suspected she’d be there all night, and he’d be spending the evening in another bed, wishing he was beside her. He hooked a thumb behind him. “The bathroom’s there if you need it. Make yourself at home.”
She pulled the band that secured her low ponytail and set it on the nightstand before she perched on the edge of the mattress. “Thank you, Dallas Calloway. You’re a nice man, and I’m sorry I’m not acting like a nice girl.”
He liked his girls a little naughty, he started to say, but began backing to the door when he noticed how sexy she looked with that blond hair curling around her shoulders. “No need to apologize. Just get some rest.”
She stretched her arms over her head and sent him a sleepy smile. “Since I probably blew my chances at the job, I wouldn’t mind another kiss good-night.” She tapped her cheek and smiled. “Just a peck.”
He might laugh at that if he hadn’t been so damn uncomfortable, or tempted to do more than give her just a peck. “We’ll talk later when you’re sober. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
Before he traded in his honor and gave in to animal urges, Dallas rushed out of the room, closed the door behind him and then headed down the hall to confront the culprit who’d created the chaos. Once he reached the kitchen, he found Jenny loading the last of the dishes into the washer. “What in the hell did you put in those drinks?”
Jenny turned toward him and had the gall to look surprised. “Why, honey, just the usual. A little mint, some sugar and water, bourbon. And maybe a touch of tequila.”
That explained a lot. “You added tequila on top of the bourbon?”
She didn’t bother to look contrite. “Yes. It gives the julep that special kick everyone raves about.”
“It kicked my date right into drunk mode.”
Jenny grinned. “Your date?”
“Guest,” he corrected, although he didn’t see much point in getting the details right.
“Maybe I put a little too much alcohol into the drink,” she said, “but I thought it would help Paris relax.”
“Hell, she’s relaxed all right. She’s passed out in my bed.”
“Then why are you in here?”
He was asking himself that same question. “Because there is no way I’m going