Undeniable Read Free Page B

cheeks. He didn’t ask when he took hold of her upper arm and turned her toward the door, or say anything as Bubba silently paid her.
    On the way out, he moved his hand to the small of her back. He kept it there as they crossed the porch and walked down the steps. Once in the parking lot, they turned toward the long row of pickups along the side of the store, and that’s when his hand drifted lower, his thumb inching under the hem of her shirt, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans.
    She glanced up, wondered if his eyes would give away what he was thinking, if hers would tell him that he was why she was here. This was what she wanted, but he didn’t have to know that, and she didn’t have to make it so easy on either of them. Yet she didn’t dislodge his hand. And she didn’t pretend his presumption put her off.
    All she did was cut her gaze over his shoulder toward the window, asking as she looked back, “Are you invading my personal space for the benefit of Bubba and his boys, or for your own?”
    He paid no attention to their audience, his gaze holding hers, a rope pulling tight, choking. “You left out the third option.”
    He’d lassoed her. If not for the onlookers fogging up the store’s window, she would’ve stripped to her skin then and there. But he didn’t have to know that either. “Which is?”
    “I’m doing it for you.”
    “That so.”
    He nodded, his gaze sliding from her eyes to her mouth before moving lower, lingering along her scooped neckline as if he had all the time in the world. As if he would
take
all the time in the world. She couldn’t wait to find out if he would, but he didn’t have to know that most of all.
    He reached for his hat brim, pulled it low. “I figure… sixteen years? It’s about time.”
    Oh, who was she kidding? He knew. He knew everything. And he’d known it all along. That left her with only one thing to say.
    “My truck or yours?”

TWO
    D ARCY C AMPBELL YANKED off her sunglasses that were little help against the white hot June sky and blinked to adjust to the interior of the Hellcat Saloon. She scanned the room, breathing deeply of flame-seared beef and fresh-baked bread and the fire-roasted
chiles
that went into Arwen Poole’s famous salsa.
    Finding her favorite corner table empty, she didn’t wait for the hostess but headed that way, the heels of her navy pumps striking the glossy concrete in a rhythmic and angry click. She dropped into the chair that put her back to the wall and tossed her satchel into the seat at her right.
    Screw it being noon. She needed a pitcher of margaritas. Extra salt, double tequila. Unfortunately, Campbell propriety—and Mrs. Kyle’s three o’clock deposition—determined the only liquid she’d be imbibing at lunch was iced tea. And that with artificial sweetener—another bit of Campbell propriety.
    Not that she was bitter.
    Much.
    Getting out of the Campbell and Associates law office for lunch should’ve helped her mood, but didn’t. She was eating alone while the firm’s two men dined on grass-fed Angus and drank Prairie Rotie from the family’s favorite hill country vintner. Because only potential
associates
dined with The Campbell at the Crow Hill Country Club.
    And Darcy, a daughter, a girl, a disappointment, would never make partner. Especially with Greg Barrett and his penis working the same partner-track hours and now landing the Trinity Springs Oil account for the firm.
    “Hey, sweetie.” Luck Summerlin set a tumbler full of ice and Darcy’s lunchtime drink on a Hellcat logo coaster. “I heard the news. How’re you doing?”
    Wow. Crow Hill was small, but Greg had only announced the Trinity Springs news this morning. She reached for a packet of sweetener, tore it open, and poured. “Who told you?”
    Luck propped a knee in the empty chair on Darcy’s left, her long legs bare between her boots and her denim shorts, and shrugged. “The Kittens were all over it earlier. Lots of ribald