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“Or later.” His gaze was intense. “In the mayor’s residence.”
Desire flashed through her, along with an excruciatingly detailed memory of being held in his arms. “You know I can’t say yes to that.”
“I know you won’t.”
“We’re locked in a battle.”
“I thought we were trying to mitigate it.”
“By sleeping together?”
His mouth quirked in a quick grin. “I said kissing.”
“You meant sex.” Of that, she was completely certain.
“I wouldn’t say no to sex.” He reeled her slightly closer.
She could have pulled back, but she didn’t. “That’s because you’re a man.”
“Are you calling me easy?”
She was standing almost between his thighs, the heat of them swirling out, permeating her thin, black tights. “I’m calling your entire gender easy.”
He reached up and put his hand to the back of her neck. “No problem. We can take the hit.”
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
He urged her face toward his. “You said no to later, so I’m going with now.”
“You’re going to kiss me?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re pretty,” he rumbled. “Because you smell nice. Because you’re soft and sexy.”
“Are you trying to manipulate me?” she asked.
“Into kissing me?”
“Into changing my mind.”
He raised a brow. “Are you trying to manipulate me into changing my mind?”
“Yes,” she admitted, subconsciously easing toward him, inhaling his scent, her pulse speeding up, her skin beginning to tingle.
“Me, too.” He stretched up to meet her. “Let’s see who wins.”
His kiss was even better than she remembered. His lips were firm and hot. He reached up to cradle her face with his hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks, fingers splaying into her hair.
Her knees quickly grew weak, and she sank down onto his knee, wrapping her arms fully around his neck, once again molding her body against his. His tongue teased hers, and she responded with a shiver, her skin rippling in goose bumps that went hot, then cold, then hot again.
Desire gathered in the base of her belly, flaring insistently downward. She squirmed against his thigh, her mouth opening wider to the heat of his kiss. His palms slid along her sides, skimming her breasts, following the curve of her waist to settle on her hips. He pressed her against him, and she moaned.
“Who’s winning?” he rasped.
Through the electrified jumble of her brain cells, she struggled to form a sentence. “I don’t think it’s me,” she told him honestly.
“I think it’s you.” He kissed her again, strong arms wrapping around her waist. “Because it sure isn’t me.”
Then he stood, drawing her to her feet, pressing his body flush against hers. He stroked her hair, and his voice was guttural in her ear. “Later? At the mayor’s mansion?”
Her mind went to war with itself.
She couldn’t sleep with him. She had to stay sharp. She had to keep her emotions out of the equation. If the citizens of Lyndon even suspected she had the hots for the mayor, it would fundamentally undermine her position.
Or could she? If they kept it secret? If they didn’t tell a living soul, not even Marta?
“I take it that’s a no.” He eased back to gaze at her.
“It’s a yes,” she told him impulsively. If it wasn’t for everything going on around them, she’d have easily agreed to meet him later. She could do this guilt-free.
He searched her expression, clearly astonished.
As the silence stretched, she told herself to hold her ground, not to lose her nerve.
He eased slightly farther away. “You’re messing with my head.”
She wasn’t.
He shook his head. “You’re manipulating me. There’s no way you’re showing up at my house.”
Her first instinct was to correct him.
But thankfully, good sense returned before she could open her mouth. What was she thinking? She couldn’t meet Seth at his house for a clandestine fling. It was the craziest idea she’d ever had.
She stepped fully away from him, smoothing out both her clothes and her expression. “What was your first clue?”
* * *
Seth had suspected from the beginning that Darby had the power to mess with his mind. But even his worst fears hadn’t come close to reality. He couldn’t forget about her, couldn’t concentrate on work.
It didn’t help that Judge Hawthorn had accepted the petition to hold a referendum. In a long speech, saying he was acting in the best interests of civic order and for the good of Lyndon City, he ruled in Darby’s favor, granting the referendum.
By Friday afternoon, Seth realized he had to take a break from the fray. He’d left the office early and driven the two hours to his family’s ranch, intending to put some miles between him and Darby, clear his head and put together a plan for fighting the referendum.
Back at home, things were comfortable, logical and predictable. The fields were still green and lush. Herefords dotted the Valley and the hillsides amongst the red and orange maple groves, the Rockies rising up, white-peaked in the distance, while the wide Lyndon River flowed endlessly through the middle of the spread. Barns, outbuildings and corrals stretched out to the north. A horse whinnied in one of the pens, snorting its curiosity at his arrival.
He got out of the pickup, his cowboy boots puffing the dust at the edge of the driveway turnaround. His brother, Travis, was the only Jacobs still living full-time in the two-story house that overlooked the river.
“Prodigal son,” he heard Travis say from an open barn door.
“I’ve only been away two weeks,” Seth pointed out, crossing the driveway to meet his brother. “And you were in Lyndon with me half the time.”
Travis stripped off a worn leather glove and shook Seth’s hand.
“How are things going here?” Seth asked.
Travis was number two in the Jacobs birth order. Seth was the oldest. After Travis came their sister Abigail, then Mandy and finally their baby sister Katrina, who’d left Lyndon Valley years ago to go to boarding school and become a ballerina. She’d only come back last year when she fell in love with their neighbor, Reed Terrell.
“Same old, same old,” Travis replied, lifting his Stetson then replacing it on his head at a different angle. “Everybody’s out on the range, rounding ’em up. I just replaced a couple of shoes. You here to work?”
“Taking a break from the fray,” Seth admitted. “But I could work while I’m doin’ it.”
Travis grinned. “You thirsty?”
“Yeah,” said Seth, turning toward the house. “Got any of Dad’s Glen Klavit?”
“That kind of thirsty?”
“That kind of getting away from the fray. Judge Hawthorn threw a wrench into the works. And the good citizens of Lyndon are making me nuts.” Seth didn’t bother mentioning that it was one particular Lyndon citizen who was threatening to push him over the edge.
“I heard about the ruling. You think she’ll win?”
“A lot of people want that railroad.” Seth couldn’t imagine them voting it down. “But I have to fight her, and that’s going to take a lot of energy away from other things.”
Travis slapped him on the shoulder. “On the bright side, you’re not likely to get physically injured fighting Darby Carroll, where I just got kicked in the shoulder by an ornery mare.”
“Cowboy up,” Seth automatically responded.
“She called here,” Travis added unexpectedly.
Seth stopped and turned. “Darby called here?”
“She did, indeed. Wanted to thank me for helping out with Joe, and then went on about the referendum, of course. She seems quite fearless.”
Seth would have liked to ask what she’d said, but the whole point of coming out here was to forget about Darby.
“I particularly don’t want to talk about her.” He hooked his Stetson on a peg inside the door and ambled his way into the living room. He glanced at his watch, noting it was nearly seven. “You got anything to throw on the barbecue?”
“You don’t want to talk about her?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why not?”
Seth turned to face his brother. “Wouldn’t explaining the reason be, in fact, talking about her?”
Travis’s gaze took on a speculative gleam. “I saw the way you looked at her at the Association dinner. Something happen between the two of you?”
“Nothing happened.”
“You want something to happen?”
“Can’t a guy get a drink and a burger in peace around here?”
“Whoa.” Travis held up his hands in mock surrender.
