At The Playboy's Command. Robyn Grady
telling me what’s best for her boy, it’ll be a long time before I darken her doorstep again.”
“It makes sense now. Why you had such a strong opinion about my parents’—” she searched for a word “—requests. If my folks had behaved like that, I’m not sure I’d be falling over myself to please them, either.”
Her situation was vastly different from his. “You love your ranch.” She wanted to stay. Or at least she’d convinced herself that she did.
As if she’d read his mind and had grown uncomfortable, she sat up, hugged her sheet-covered knees and made a confession he had no trouble believing.
“I do get a little restless by the end of the ten months,” she said. “I can break up the time I spend out of Royal, but I usually go through my two months away pretty well straight out the gate.”
“There are no loopholes?”
“I get more time if I want to study away but there are stipulations on that, as well.”
“Sounds as if they wanted their grandkids to be pure Texan.”
She cut him an amused look. “I’m not thinking about having a family just yet.”
That makes two of us.
“You’ll find your own way,” he assured her. Even if it turned out to be her parents’ way, too.
“Do you think so?” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m not sounding so sure today.”
“You’re young.” He sat up, too, and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’ve got plenty of time to grow old and set in your ways.”
“Like you?” she teased.
“That’s right,” he said, only half joking.
“Guess you’ve earned the right given you’re, what? all of thirty-three?”
“Thirty-five.”
She covered her heart and pretended to lose her breath. “If I’d known, I would never have seduced you.”
His smile faded as the obvious question begged to be voiced. “Would it be impolite to ask your age?”
Please not twenty-two.
“I’m twenty-five.”
“Don’t tell me.” His lips twitched. “Twenty-six next birthday.” The idea of racking up another year wasn’t so appealing once you hit thirty.
She narrowed her eyes, but playfully. “I know what you’re thinking and ten years isn’t that big of an age difference. I’m well over twenty-one.”
A knot low in his gut pulled and he held that breath. They’d just made love, were sharing some secrets, but that last comment sounded a little too much like, Where do we go from here?
He tempered her challenging tone with a fact he’d come to appreciate more and more the older he got. “My father was ten years older than my mother.”
“Sounds like they had bigger problems than a gap in birth dates.”
“A lot of married couples do.”
A hint of suspicion swam up in her eyes and she looked at him hard. “You’re not a fan of the institution.”
He leaned back against the strong timber headrest. “That’s right.”
Her gaze searched his until Daniel felt her unwarranted pity seep into his bones.
“Your parents failed,” she murmured. “You didn’t. You don’t have to run all your life.”
Somewhere a phone began to ring. His heart thudding, Daniel snapped a glance to his left. The bedroom extension. Five minutes ago he’d have cursed the interruption. Now? It seemed this distraction was right on time.
He picked up and blinked twice at the voice on the other end. He’d expected Rand or one of the boys.
“Daniel, is this a bad time?”
“Abigail?” He brought the sheet up higher, flicked a glance at Elizabeth. “I was going to call.”
“I just wanted to let you know,” Abigail said, “despite yesterday’s hiccup, I have faith in you. You weren’t voted American Architect of the Year for nothing. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”
Daniel was gnawing his bottom lip.
“Well, see, Abigail … that’s the thing—”
“Word around town is you’re seeing my friend, Elizabeth Milton,” she cut in, an interested and approving note in her tone.
His smile was thin. “Nothing like a well-watered grapevine for spreading rumors.” Photos would probably be in the Royal newspaper come morning.
Abigail laughed. “Anyone would think you didn’t want a gorgeous, refined lady like Elizabeth Milton hanging off your arm.”
He wanted to clear his throat. He’d done more than that this past hour. They’d got close enough for Elizabeth to assume she knew him, to tell him that he didn’t need to keep running.
She had it wrong. He hadn’t run away. When he was old enough, he’d finally stood up and pledged to do things his way and to hell with anyone who didn’t like it.
But then Daniel thought about that design, Abigail’s belief in him, the story behind that plaque. Mostly he thought about Elizabeth and the voice in his head telling him that, after what they’d just shared, he should do more than thank her for her time and bolt.
“When can we meet?” Abigail was asking.
“Let me get back to you, Abby. I have something to take care of.”
He disconnected and, after a contemplative moment, found Elizabeth’s gaze. Hugging her legs, her chin resting on her knees, she was grinning—grinning as if she could read his every thought.
“You’re staying, aren’t you?” she asked.
Hoping he wouldn’t regret it, Daniel tipped her back onto the sheets.
“Yeah,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m staying.”
The moment Elizabeth knew that Daniel wasn’t on the next flight out of Royal, she was at once elated and strangely unsettled.
Her first thought was that they could share again what they had today. She’d never experienced anything like the sensations he’d stoked and coaxed from her this morning. Making love with Daniel had been an all-consuming, unprecedented lesson in mounting pleasure and rolling release. Mind, body and spirit seemed to meld until she’d felt as if she were one-half of a wondrous whole.
But as Daniel kissed her a final time then headed for the attached bath, Elizabeth bunched the sheet up under her chin and told herself to keep her head. Yes, the sex had been outstanding. Powerful. In some ways, humbling. So many would go through life without appreciating the true meaning of the phrase “making love.”
But that didn’t mean Daniel felt as deeply about this morning’s interaction as she did. She had no cause to think he’d told Abigail he’d stay for any reason other than the fact he wasn’t ready to give up on that project. She was thankful for Abigail’s sake, and for the sake of the inevitable future of the club … if Daniel came up with a design that captured the members’ hearts and helped Abigail’s push to become the establishment’s first female president. The old guard would have a blue fit.
But the Texas Cattleman’s Club was due for change. The club’s creed—Leadership, Justice and Peace—surely applied to good women as well as good men.
Angling