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“You’re twisting this up somehow,” he said and tried to figure out exactly where he’d taken the wrong tack.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She walked toward him, and as short as she was, she looked pretty damn intimidating when she had a mad on.
She stopped about five feet from him and said, “I liked kissing you—which, okay, surprised me a little—”
He snorted again and nodded. It had surprised the hell out of him, too. Hell, his mouth was still burning.
“—that doesn’t mean I’m ready for more, though. But we are engaged, Toby.” She wagged a finger at him. “You’re the one who’s waking me up at six in the morning so Rebecca won’t find out we’re not sleeping together.”
“Yeah, so?” He frowned a little, not following her train of thought.
“Well, don’t you think she’d expect to see an engaged couple kissing now and then?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Hugging? Looking like we’re intimate even if we’re not?”
He hadn’t considered that, but she had a point. If he kept treating her like a pal or a little sister or something, Rebecca would notice and start wondering. “Damn it.”
“Ah,” she said, satisfied. “Good. Now maybe you won’t freak out over a simple kiss. And you’d better get used to the idea, because we should do more of it.”
Insulted, he countered, “A, I didn’t freak out. B, there was nothing simple about that kiss.”
“You don’t think so?” she asked, turning around and heading toward the door. “For me, it was nice, but nothing special.”
He stared after her, stunned. She was playing him. Had to be. Because that kiss had nearly lifted the top of his head off, and he’d damn well felt her heart beating a wild rhythm. No way was she as unmoved and blasé about it as she was pretending.
When she was at the door, she paused and looked back at him. “Seriously, Toby, if we’re going to make Rebecca and everyone else believe this marriage is real, then we’d better practice kissing until we’re good at it.”
She gave him a half smile and left. Toby stared at the empty doorway for a long count of ten, then tipped his beer back for another drink.
“Practice? If we get any better at it, I’m a dead man.”
Seven
Dinner at the TCC on Saturday night was a treat. Naomi had always liked the club, and once women were allowed in as members, she’d taken full advantage of her new rights. She, Cecelia and Simone had headed the redecorating committee, and they’d done what they could to spruce up the old place.
Not that they’d been given free rein. But painting the entryway and the restaurant and the ladies’ room had helped to brighten things up. They were too steeped in tradition here to willingly let go of the Texas artifacts, documents and pictures decorating the walls, and a part of Naomi understood it. She was a Texan, too, after all. But at least those walls were painted a soft gray now, with fresh white trim, and it looked brighter in here even with the dim lighting.
Sitting across the table from Toby, she took a second to admire it. The dining room in the Texas Cattleman’s Club really hadn’t changed much in decades, and even with a fresh coat of paint, it remained very much what it always had been—an upscale restaurant with roots in the past. Tables were draped in white cloth, and on every table was a bud vase with a single yellow rose in it. Soft jazz spilled out of overhead speakers, and the brass sconces on the wall threw out shafts of pale light. The atmosphere was old-world, but the clientele was a mixture of the older generation and younger. Conversations rose and fell like the tides, with a sprinkling of laughter now and then to keep things bright.
Naomi looked at Toby and just managed to squelch a sigh. He wore a white dress shirt, black jacket and black slacks. His black boots were shined to perfection, and he’d capped everything off with a black Stetson that made him look like a well-dressed outlaw. Her insides shivered, and her stomach did a long, slow roll. That sensation still caught her by surprise, despite how often she’d been experiencing it lately.
Desire pumped through her and she fought it down, because really, he hadn’t said a word about that kiss since it happened two nights ago, so maybe he hadn’t felt what she had. Wanted what she had—did.
And maybe she’d been trying to tempt him, to remind him of that kiss when she chose what to wear tonight. Her short, bright red dress hugged her breasts and her growing curves proudly. The neckline was square and deep and supported by inch-wide straps across her shoulders. Her red heels gave her an extra three inches of height, which she was always in favor of—plus, they made her legs look great.
He’d noticed, because she’d seen the flare of approval in his eyes when he first saw her tonight. But he’d been cool, controlled, even a little distant since they sat down at the restaurant.
Two days since she’d kissed him on impulse and found so much more than she’d expected. When his mouth fused to hers and his arms came around her, every cell in Naomi’s body had come alive. Sitting on his lap, she’d felt his body tighten, and just remembering it now had her shifting slightly in her seat.
But long, luscious kisses couldn’t make up for the sheer panic in his eyes when he pulled away from her. When he’d announced that for her own good, he was stepping back.
Infuriating to think about it even now. Naomi made up her own mind, and she didn’t appreciate him making decisions for her. After all, she wasn’t the type to just leap into bed without thinking about it. Although, she thought as she glanced down at her baby bump, she’d done it at least once. And maybe that was what Toby had been thinking. That she’d slept with Gio so easily, why wouldn’t she jump him, too?
God, that was humiliating.
Especially when it was true. If he’d made the slightest move, Naomi would have willingly gone to bed with him, and forget the bargain they’d made. She’d never felt anything like that kiss before, and oh, how she wanted to know what else he could make her feel.
“What in the hell are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
“What?” She jolted a little, immensely grateful he couldn’t read minds.
