One Texas Night.... Sara OrwigЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Two

      Allison Tyler studied the small figurine in her hand, turning it to look at the initials and number on the underside. With her phone she took a picture that went first to her dad and then to her iPad. She made brief notes on her tablet. She was interested in getting a picture inventory, whatever descriptions she felt she needed and sending them on to her dad to do the research about each piece.

      She’d battled mixed feelings since the first call to her father from Jared. The Delaney mansion Jared had inherited and wanted to sell was supposed to be filled with antiques and valuable art. It was a great job for them, just as it had been for her dad to work directly with him before. Jared had a hobby of deep-sea salvaging and twice had hired her father to go over items he had brought up from a find in the Gulf off the Alabama coast.

      Jared. She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

      He’d been a constant companion of her brother’s throughout their school years, but he’d been of little interest to Allison. Until six years ago when he had bumped into her at the wedding reception, and she’d felt as if a lightning bolt had struck her. He was incredibly handsome, sexy, appealing. She couldn’t resist flirting with him. He’d set her heart pounding, and within the next hours, she’d decided he was the most exciting man she had ever met.

      The night had been magical. Her brother had once told her that he didn’t want his best friend around her. Though Jared was a great friend to Sloan, where women were concerned, Jared was totally unreliable. Sloan had described him as a playboy, a man who lived life on the edge, who liked mountain climbing, bull riding, white-water rafting, wild adventures and beautiful women.

      At eighteen, when she had looked into Jared’s vivid green eyes, she had been as drawn to him as a moth to flames. Exuding self-confidence, he had flirted, made her pulse race, and when he had kissed her, she had melted. No other kisses had been like his.

      But the next morning, along with daylight, common sense set in. She couldn’t get involved with a heartbreaker like Jared. She was just a college freshman. Her life was simple, safe and ordinary, and she wanted to keep it that way. Jared, on the other hand, was a risk taker. She never again wanted to go through getting the news that someone she loved deeply had been killed taking a risk. Like her mother, who had flown her small plane through a Gulf storm, killing herself and Chad in the crash. Allison never wanted to experience that kind of needless hurt again.

      And there was Sloan. She suspected if Sloan knew about her night with Jared, it would end their long, close friendship. All she could do, then, was get Jared to agree they would not see each other again and the night had never happened.

      She had since tried to forget him. It had been a struggle to forget someone as dynamic as Jared Weston. That night she had tossed her usual caution aside because he had been too handsome, too appealing, too exciting.

      Now she was older and wiser, and she still felt Jared was a man to avoid. Currently she felt responsible for her dad, and she didn’t want to cause him worry. In addition she had a running undercurrent of anger. Jared had tried to buy Tyler Antiques and Appraisals after her dad’s heart attack. When her dad had refused to sell, Jared had bought another appraisal company and then approached her dad once more, wanting to merge the two, leaving her dad in charge of his part. Her dad loved his business that he had built, and he did not want to sell. Jared had said the offer would remain on the table. Her father never mentioned it again, and she hoped Jared was not now attempting to get their company.

      In minutes, she forgot business when her thoughts returned to that night with Jared. How tempting would he be to her now? She suspected very tempting, because she had never been able to forget him. How appealing he was would not matter. He was still off-limits. Sloan had already told her that Jared was about to become engaged. That should keep distance between them.

      She had arrived the previous day at the sprawling mansion in Houston. With very little landscaping, the gray three-story Gothic had a cold palatial appearance with medieval turrets, parapets and arched windows, and she could see why Jared intended to sell it. She couldn’t imagine living in a home the size of the mansion, much less one so forbidding in appearance.

      Jared had not arrived yet, and the housekeeper, Mrs. Tarkington, as well as the cook, who introduced herself only as Marline, were uncertain about exactly when he would arrive. Allison did not need Jared present to start an inventory of the art and furnishings. All she felt was relief that he was not here. By noon the first day, she had inventoried and tagged six rooms of furniture, sending brief descriptions and pictures to her father. She’d begun with the bedrooms so that they’d be done and she wouldn’t have to deal with Jared in a bedroom—even if they were only remotely polite to each other. But she still had more bedrooms to complete, even after this one.

      She paused in front of an ornate gilt-framed mirror to look at her image. It had been six years since she had seen Jared. How much would he think she had changed? How well did he remember that night? In six years she was certain it had been over and forgotten long ago for him. She took a critical study of her appearance: black slacks, a black cotton shirt, her hair secured on her head with a clip. Several blond tendrils had fallen around her face. She tucked them away and continued her inventory of antiques, moving to an upstairs sitting room.

      In minutes a light knocking caught her attention and she turned. Looking as commanding and self-assured as she remembered, Jared stood in the doorway, leaning with one shoulder against the jamb. Her heart missed several beats as he smiled. Locks of wavy black hair framed his face. His spellbinding green eyes had not been an exaggeration of her memory. Six years ceased to exist. It could have been this past Saturday night that they had been together as far as her clarity of memory was concerned. A heart-pounding, unforgettable night of seduction. She thought her memories of him had dimmed, but she had simply fooled herself.

      Her pulse raced and her physical reaction to him was far more intense than she had expected. Something she couldn’t keep from happening. Dressed in a navy suit and matching tie and Western boots, he was breathtaking. She had a flashback, an instant memory of being naked in his arms, flush against his hard, muscled body.

      “So how’s it been for six years?” he asked, coming into the room.

      She was thankful he couldn’t detect her racing pulse. To her chagrin, her memory triggered heat that flushed her face. She hoped to look relaxed, to keep hidden all indications of her racing heartbeat.

      “It’s been busy, and I’m sure you can say the same. It’s warm in here,” she said, in an effort to explain her cheeks that had to be pink, because she could feel their warmth.

      “I agree,” he said in a huskier voice than she remembered, and she realized the next few days of working with him were going to be far more of a strain than she had anticipated.

      Strain or temptation? a small inner voice taunted.

      “I’ll shed this jacket,” he said, shrugging it off and draping it on a chair. His tie followed, and he unfastened the top buttons of his snow-white shirt. Her insides tightened. She could imagine him peeling away the shirt. He turned to face her again.

      Reaching