Bravo, Tango, Cowboy. Joanna WayneЧитать онлайн книгу.
kind of like a sunny summer morning after a hard rain. He pulled her into his arms. He was tall enough that even in her nosebleed heels, she fit in his arms just right, cheek to cheek, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Arousal coiled around his insides like a corkscrew.
She put her mouth to his ear and he felt the heat of her breath on his neck. “You are a much better dancer than you admitted,” she crooned.
“Like your boss said, you’d make any man look good.”
“I had a lot of practice,” she admitted. “I took lessons for most of my life and danced on Broadway for years.”
“From Broadway to Dobbin, Texas. That’s some detour.”
“It happens.”
She didn’t offer more and Hawk didn’t push. He didn’t intend to be manipulated into a relationship by Linney, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy having a beautiful, sensual woman in his arms.
Alonsa’s small, satin bag was buzzing against the table when they returned. She reached inside and grabbed her vibrating cell phone. He heard just enough to know that the call concerned her son.
“I have to find Esteban,” she said as soon as she broke the connection.
“What’s wrong?”
“That was my babysitter. My son fell and hit his head. She doesn’t think it’s serious, but it’s bleeding and he’s crying. He’s only three. I need to check on him.”
“No need to find Esteban. I can drive you if it’s a ride you’re looking for.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It could be. Esteban’s car may be blocked in. My truck isn’t.” He’d made sure of that just in case he decided to sneak out early. He didn’t usually last more than an hour or so at fancy shindigs like this one.
Alonsa scanned the parking area. “Surely the parking valet could get Esteban’s car out.”
“You’d save time if I drive you, but hey, it’s your kid. Your call.”
That seemed to resonate with her. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Wouldn’t have offered if I did.”
“Then I just need to let Esteban know so he won’t look for me later.”
“There’s Cutter,” Hawk said, nodding toward his former SEAL buddy and new boss, who was standing nearby talking to a couple of local ranchers. “We’ll tell him. He’ll see that Esteban gets the word.”
She nodded and in minutes they were on their way to her place. It hit Hawk about five miles down the road that with the help of a bleeding kid, he had played exactly into Linney’s matchmaking scheme.
BRANDON SALATOYA’S injury turned out to be no more than a bump on the head and a slight cut across the top of his right eye. The rambunctious preschooler had reportedly been running up the stairs for his bedtime story when he’d tripped over his dog, a short-tailed, mixed-breed mutt with soulful eyes and a yappy bark.
The boy had settled down quickly when his mother arrived and was now drinking chocolate milk and marching a plastic dinosaur over a mountain of sofa cushions. He’d gotten a reprieve from bedtime until Alonsa was certain there was no aftereffect from the bump to the head.
The sitter, a rawboned rancher’s wife named Ellen, who smiled often and had graying, slightly frizzed hair, had gone home, greatly relieved that she hadn’t allowed a serious injury on her watch.
Alonsa had disappeared with the promise to be right back. The dog, Carne, short for Carnivorous as the precocious youngster had explained, was lying by the fire in the massive stone fireplace, carefully keeping at least one eye on Hawk.
Had Linney been able to spy on them, she’d no doubt be pleased at the cozy, familial scene. But looks were deceiving. The coziness went no further than the visual effects. Once Alonsa was reassured her son was fine, having Hawk around had seemed to become instantly awkward for her.
He’d half expected her to push him out the door with the babysitter. Instead she’d offered to make a pot of coffee in a tone and manner that suggested she hoped he’d turn her down.
He hadn’t, of course. Nothing intrigued him more than a woman not into him, especially one as provocative as Alonsa. When she walked, he envisioned her dancing on a Broadway stage, her body twisting and swaying into erotic choreographic movements.
Yet she was here in small-town Dobbin, Texas, living on a ranch with her young son, decorating other people’s houses and playing ice princess to available suitors. He wondered what her husband had been like and how he’d died. And if his death was the explanation for the haunting shadows that lurked in the depths of Alonsa’s dark eyes.
Brandon marched his dinosaur as close as he could to Hawk’s leg without actually touching it. “How come you came to my house?”
“I gave your mother a ride home from the party.”
“How come you’re still here?”
Good question. “I’m going to have a cup of coffee with your mother.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me to.”
“Why?”
Fortunately Alonsa picked that minute to rejoin them. “Don’t go there with him,” she cautioned Hawk. “The whys are a black hole from which there is no escape.”
Hawk stood and took the cup of coffee she offered.
“I added a touch of Kahlúa and a dollop of whipped cream. If you’d rather have it plain, I can toss this and get you another cup.”
He tasted the brew. “No, this is great.”
“I’m sorry I rushed you away from the party. It’s not that I don’t trust Ellen. I do. She’s raised five children of her own. It’s just that I worry.”
“No reason to apologize. Once you’ve toasted the newlyweds, the party’s all downhill.”
“You didn’t look as if you were suffering,” she teased.
“I’ve learned to hide it well.” A comeback that wasn’t that far from the truth.
Alonsa was still wearing the blue dress, but she’d slipped out of the metallic stiletto sandals and into a pair of cream-colored slippers. She’d also removed her necklace. The earrings still dangled seductively from her smooth lobes. Her lipstick had almost worn off completely, leaving her lips a glistening, pale pink.
She chose a seat across from him and Brandon, kicked off her slippers and curled her legs under her. “So what do you think of my designs?”
Design was probably the one thing of hers he hadn’t been thinking about, especially since he had no clue what she was talking about. “Love them,” he said, going for low-key enthusiasm.
“I first became interested in interior decorating while remodeling this house,” she said. “I didn’t get any formal training until after I’d moved to Dobbin.”
“The house looks great.” Actually it looked like he’d expect a ranch house to look, except…homier. Yep, that was the word he was looking for. The kind of house where a man could get comfortable with a good book—or a hot woman.
“I was going for rustic, but high-tech with modern comforts,” she explained.
He gave the room a quick once-over. The walls were painted to look as if they were old stucco, with dents and nicks, in shades of a deep cream and pale tan. The chandelier looked as if it had once been used with gas. The mantel over the fireplace was thick, rough-hewn cypress, as were the high beams in the ceiling.
The wide wooden planks of the floor looked to be original to the house, but they were polished and partially