Hot Texas Nights
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Janice Maynard
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15.9K
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18
One
Ethan Barringer was on top of the world. After months of late nights, endless negotiations and an almost unbearable workload, his drive and focus had finally paid off big-time. Perry Construction had won the bid to renovate the building that would become a brand-new Cattleman’s Club in Houston, Texas. Although seventy-year-old Sterling Perry owned the company—and would likely claim all the credit for the coup—Ethan, Sterling’s CEO, basked in the satisfaction of knowing he himself had made it happen.
He rolled a chilled bottle of beer between his fingertips, his right knee bouncing restlessly beneath the table. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The irony didn’t escape him. If there was ever a time for celebration, this was it. But he had neglected his social life so completely during the last few months that there was no one on hand to raise a glass with him tonight.
He had come to the Royal Diner because it was a comfortable hangout, and because no one would remark on a man dining alone. After polishing off a huge, medium-rare sirloin with all the trimmings and a decadent piece of homemade lemon icebox pie, he was now faced with the prospect of a long, empty evening ahead of him.
Tomorrow he would fly to Houston and wouldn’t be back for at least six weeks. Though he kept a secondary residence here in Royal, his home and office were in Houston. He tended to bounce back and forth between the big city and the small town of his birth. Each had its own charm.
He loved the anonymity of the always-busy metropolis. But nothing could replace the feeling of belonging he experienced whenever his work brought him back to Royal.
Suddenly, the diner door blew open. Someone had tried to come inside, but a gust of mid-January wind practically jerked the plate glass from its hinges. Amid a flurry of chilled air and feminine pique, the diner’s latest customer finally appeared. She leaned against the entrance and smoothed her hair.
Amanda Battle, the sheriff’s wife who owned the diner, lifted a hand and smiled. “Hey, Aria. Sorry about that. You look frozen to the bone. If you’re not meeting anyone, come sit at the counter and talk to me.”
Though the new arrival didn’t glance in Ethan’s direction, he recognized her immediately. Aria Jensen. Five feet four inches tall. Eyes as blue as the wide Texas skies. Long wavy blond hair that was decidedly tousled at the moment. And enough curves to make a guy sit up and take notice.
His groin tightened. All work and no play made a man hungry. And not just for Amanda Battle’s incredible desserts.
Ethan eavesdropped unashamedly.
Amanda brought Aria a cup of coffee and a list of the day’s specials. “What brings you out on such a nasty evening?”
“Starvation, mainly.” The younger woman shed her coat with a grin and draped it across the red faux-leather stool beside her. The 1950s-themed eatery had booths that matched the stools, and a black-and-white checkerboard linoleum floor. Though the clock over the soda fountain said it was only six thirty, the diner was on the empty side tonight. Most people were probably hunkered down at home. Winters in Royal, Texas, weren’t usually too bad, but this week’s weather had been blustery and cold.
Amanda nodded. “I understand. At the end of a long workday, no woman I know wants to cook. I’m glad you stopped by.”
Aria sipped her coffee and pointed at the menu. “I’ll take a number three. I need comfort food.”
Ethan glanced at the small bundle of menus tucked behind the sugar canister on his table. Aria had ordered a grilled cheese with vegetable soup. Not much had changed over the years.
Following an impulse that drove him to his feet, he crossed the small room and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, stranger. I’ve finished eating, but I could use some company. You want to join me?”
The stool turned. Big, long-lashed eyes looked up at him. “Ethan. How nice to see you.”
The words were cordial enough, but her expression was guarded. He and Aria had known each other since they were in grade school. Her visible hesitation nicked his pride. They had grown apart in recent years.
Again, he issued the invitation, although this time he didn’t touch her. Something about her cool manner told him to keep his hands to himself. “Come sit with me,” he cajoled. “We can catch up.”
Amanda unwittingly aided his cause. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll bring the food to you over there when it’s ready. It’s not like I’m being run off my feet tonight.”
Aria smiled at the diner owner. “Thanks.” She scooped up her coat and purse and followed Ethan to his booth. Her cheeks were pink. The color could be a reaction to the warmth of the diner after being outside in the cold, or Aria might be feeling uncomfortable.
That idea bothered him. There had been a time years ago when he’d thought he and Aria might end up in the midst of a hot-and-heavy relationship, but he had pulled himself back from the edge in the nick of time. The petite woman had “happily-ever-after” written all over her. The prospect of domesticity gave Ethan the hives.
Even so, he was happy to see her now. He waited until she was settled, and then he sat down. Amanda brought him a second beer and refilled Aria’s white porcelain coffee mug. After that, the two of them were alone...or as alone as two people could be in a public place.
He smiled at her. “You look good, Aria.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
“Is there a man in your life these days? I haven’t talked to you in a couple of years.”
“Probably longer,” she said, the words matter-of-fact. “You’re in Houston most of the time, and I work two jobs.”
Something buzzed between them in the silence. Something that kept him on edge. An awareness. The reference to her employment was not about needing money in the bank. She wasn’t destitute. Her family’s sporting-goods business did well in Royal. More importantly, Aria was the executive administrator at the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
“Are you happy?” he asked. The question tumbled from his lips uncensored. He had denied himself the pleasure of a relationship with her years ago because he thought he was doing her a favor. Now he wondered if his sacrifice had been pointless.
His own father had cheated on his mother repeatedly. Ethan had been afraid he shared those genes. So he kept his relationships with the opposite sex brief and unemotional.
Yet here he was, craving a stroll down memory lane with a woman who had seen him at his best and his worst over the years.
She nodded slowly, telling him that his inner monologue had not been as long as it seemed. “I am happy,” she said firmly. “My life is great.”
“Good. Good...” Holy hell. He sounded like a geriatric uncle.
Amanda arrived with Aria’s food. “Enjoy,” she said, giving Ethan an odd look before she walked away.
Aria fell on the sandwich and soup as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Her enthusiasm and the way she enjoyed the simple meal gave Ethan some seriously weird feelings. Was she that passionate in bed when a man was pleasuring her? His throat dried, and the front of his pants tightened.
Surely it was bizarre to be turned on by a woman eating soup.
His companion seemed oblivious to his consternation. She licked a smidge of cheese from the edge of her mouth and eyed him over the rim of her coffee cup. “What about you, Ethan? I hear great things about your job in Houston. Though I’m positive that working for Sterling Perry is no picnic.”
He laughed roughly, feeling the stress of the last ten weeks begin to lift. Steering the behemoth of a ship that was Perry Holdings consumed his life. “You could say that. But he and I get along reasonably well.”
“Probably because you aren’t related to him,” Aria said wryly.
“True.” Sterling’s four adult children had complicated relationships with their father.
“I heard some exciting news floating around the club today,” Aria said.
“It’s true. I found out just this afternoon that our construction division has been awarded the contract to renovate the new Texas Cattleman’s Club site in Houston. I’m pretty pumped.” An understatement, for sure.
For the first time, Aria gave him an open, uncomplicated smile. “That’s fabulous,” she said, beaming at him. “I’m so happy for you.”
Her genuine response and the wattage of her smile warmed him despite the lousy weather. “I wasn’t sure it was going to happen,” he admitted.
“So why are you here in Royal?”
“Well, I’ve had a few meetings with the TCC board members, making sure we have a vision for what they want. Going forward now, I’ll be in Houston mostly, but bouncing back and forth.”
“I was surprised to hear it’s a renovation. I’ve been out of town off and on and missed part of the debate. Why not build from scratch?”
“Ryder Currin found a stellar building on a prime downtown corner in Houston. It was a luxury boutique hotel that went under during the recession. The place fell into disrepair.”
“And now you’re going to give it a makeover.”
“From the ground up.”
Aria’s enthusiasm washed over him like a benediction. He’d be lying if he said the project was going to be smooth sailing. Though Sterling Perry had won the bid to do the reconstruction, his archrival, the much younger Ryder Currin, had actually been the driving force behind setting up a branch of Royal’s famous club in Houston.
Now both men wanted control. There was bad blood between them, and there would likely be plenty of collateral damage.
Ethan tapped his fingers on the table, still itchy from that pesky adrenaline...and something more elemental—an intense physical awareness that he had always experienced around Aria. “You should come,” he said suddenly. “When we begin to make progress, I’ll show you around.”
She blinked at him. “Come to Houston?”
He cocked his head. “It’s not all that far,” he drawled. “We have these newfangled things called jets.”
“Very funny.” Her cheeks turned pink again. “I’d enjoy that.”
Something in her gaze increased his discomfort. He liked to think of Aria as a childhood friend. Yet nothing about this woman was childlike. She was sexy and adorable in her complete femininity. He could think of at least a dozen ways he wanted to strip her naked and see what happened next.
She reached across the table and took his hand, surprising the hell out of him. “I’m so proud of you, Ethan. This is huge.”
The touch of her slender fingers on his larger, rougher hand sent a lightning bolt of lust to his sex. “I wanted to celebrate,” he admitted huskily. “But I’ve cut myself off from my friends for a long time.”
“Because you’re a workaholic.”
It wasn’t a question. He curled his hand around hers. “It’s all I have,” he said. “I’m ambitious. Nobody gets ahead in this world if they don’t give a hundred and ten percent.”
“And you don’t want anything else?”
Her quiet question stole his breath. Hell, yes. He wanted plenty. But Aria was off-limits. She was sweet and wholesome, and she wanted babies and a ring on her finger.
“Life is all about choices,” he said, stroking her palm. He couldn’t quite meet her gaze. He was concerned she would see his physical hunger and be put off by his response to her...and to their physical connection.
“Or maybe you’re just afraid.” She pulled her hand away, leaving him bereft. The tart, pointed attack startled him.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he protested.
Aria crossed her arms, drawing attention to her softly rounded breasts. She was wearing a pale pink cashmere turtleneck. The color should have washed her out, but instead, she glowed like a winter rose.
Their hushed standoff lasted mere seconds, though it felt like forever. Amanda came to clear the table, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents that swirled about them.
When they were alone again, Aria gave him a wicked, mocking smile. “Prove it,” she said.
He felt befuddled, perhaps by the fact that all the blood in his body had rushed south. “Prove what?”
“That you’re not afraid.”
There was no avoiding her challenge. Had he ever known her at all, or had she changed? This was a sexual gauntlet, thrown down by the woman he had thought was passive...perhaps even repressed.
Her sharp-eyed gaze said otherwise. Beneath the fuzzy fabric of her sweater, her nipples budded tightly, signaling her response to their verbal foreplay. His forehead beaded with sweat. “Well, I—”
“I have champagne at my house,” she said quietly. “It was supposed to be for my parents’ anniversary, but they took off on a cruise, and we never had a party for them. The bottle has been collecting dust. I’d like to pop the cork in your honor tonight. What do you say?”
What he was supposed to say was no. Nothing had changed. He and Aria were longtime friends. Sex was not on the table.
Could he go to her house, drink a single glass of champagne to celebrate his big day and then go home?
Doubtful. But he was going to do it, anyway. Because he couldn’t resist her smile. Or the naughty twinkle in her eyes. Or the way she smelled—like vanilla and something darker, more sensual.
“Sure,” he croaked. “I guess I’ve got time for one glass. Are you still at the same address?”
“Still there,” she said. She slipped her arms into her coat and signed the credit-card slip Amanda had unobtrusively placed on the table.
Ethan frowned. “I should have bought your dinner,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention.” The truth was, he’d been so focused on Aria that he never even noticed her taking her credit card out of her purse.
“Don’t be silly. This isn’t a date.” She slid out of the booth and stood, fluffing her hair out over the collar of her winter jacket. In addition to the sweater, she was wearing jeans and black leather, knee-high boots with three-inch heels that boosted her modest height. “I’ll meet you at my place.” And then she was gone, whisked out the door on another blast of cold air.
Ethan stood as well, feeling as if he’d been hit over the head with a board. What just happened?
He made his way to the counter. “Hey, Amanda. You never brought me my check.”
The attractive diner owner grinned. “Aria bought your dinner.”
He gaped. “How? Why?”
“She scribbled a note on her check. Said she wanted to celebrate your big coup. I heard about the new project. Congratulations.”
“Word travels fast,” he muttered.
“Well, it does in Royal, that’s for sure.”
Ethan left the diner in a daze. Something pulled at him, some inexorable force. Call it destiny or curiosity or plain male lust. Whatever it was, he couldn’t ignore its appeal.
He was headed for Aria Jensen’s house, and the two of them were going to drink champagne.
The drive was short. Less than fifteen minutes. When he pulled up in front of the bungalow-style home, there was a parking space at the curb. This section of Royal dated back to the 1930s. Many of the houses had been renovated and restored to their original glory.
Aria’s was brick with white trim and a wraparound porch. He spotted two rocking chairs and half a dozen empty planters that would be splashed with color in a few months.
It was the kind of house that would be perfect for a family with a dog or a cat and two-point-five precocious toddlers. It wasn’t even a stretch for Ethan to imagine Aria cooking something delightful in a cozy kitchen or reading bedtime stories to a son or a daughter with sun-bleached curls.
His stomach clenched.
He should turn around and get back in his car. Right now.
Every reason he had stayed away from Aria in the past still existed. He wanted her. He always had. But he’d be bad for her.
When they were children at school, he had kept the bullies at bay and let her be the irrepressible tomboy she wanted to be. He’d protected her and cared for her and made sure she was always safe and happy.
But when they became teenagers and then adults, he discovered the painful truth about his father’s many liaisons. His mother hadn’t spilled her guts. But Ethan had found her crying one day and had done his own detective work. The truth had curdled his stomach.
After that, whenever he had been tempted to have his way with the luscious Aria, he had stayed away. For her own good...
