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His eye for art impressed her. “Yes, once a year I take a trip abroad. I spend most of the rest of my time planning it. It’s a passion of mine, researching cities, finding the exact perfect accommodations, planning meals and putting together a schedule.”
She rested casually against him and told him about the countries she’d visited, sharing stories about some of the sights she’d seen and places she hoped to go in the future.
“One place I need to return to is Italy,” she said. “I’d completely misjudged the amount of time I’d need to see the sites on my itinerary. In the end it wasn’t enough, but now that I know, I can do a better job planning out the next trip.”
“Have you ever just packed a bag and taken off?”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “No schedule. No plans. Just go where the day takes you.”
She tried to imagine that but couldn’t. Granted, she knew people who traveled on the fly like that, but Monica preferred knowing exactly where she was going and what she would be doing.
“I like to be a little more organized than that.”
“It’s not about organization, it’s about adventure. One night you might find yourself in a hostel. The next you could be the personal guest of a family you just met.” He sipped from the glass of cognac then set it back on the table. “Some people find it exciting.”
Monica shook her head. “I’d find it unsettling.”
He slid lower under the blankets, turning to face her and drawing her close so that their noses nearly touched. “You should give it a try. Come out to my ranch in Austin.”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
“I can have my pilot ready to fly out in an hour.”
“Your pilot. You have a plane?”
“With my lifestyle, it’s a necessity.” He kissed her nose and brushed a tender finger across her cheek. “I promise to have you back at work bright and early Monday morning.”
She blanched. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why not?”
“A thousand reasons. I’ve got a preliminary report to read for one. It requires my comments and narrative.”
“Read it on the plane. It will work out good. I’ve got calls to make anyway.”
She pulled away and sat up. “It could take hours. I’d already cleared my weekend to get through it.”
“I’ve got a nice quiet study at the ranch.”
“But that would be rude. I can’t come as a guest to your home then spend half the weekend ignoring you.”
“I’d like to think of you as more than just my guest. And as far as ignoring me, as long as you have dinner with me and sleep in my bed I’ll be satisfied.”
She clasped the blankets to her chest, feeling panicked and silly and nowhere near ready to entertain the idea of a trip. She hadn’t even come to terms with tonight’s encounter, what it meant about their relationship—if it was a relationship. And if it was, she still wasn’t sure it should be. For the moment, she’d accepted a one-night stand, though technically now it was two. Jetting off to Texas for the weekend?
He tugged the blanket off her shoulder and began pressing kisses up her forearm toward her neck, circling that tongue ever so lightly, which only scattered her thoughts more.
“I’d have to pack,” she started. “I’d have to consider what to bring. I need my laptop. I left it at the office. That alone will take, ooohhhh—” He’d found a sensitive spot right at the tip of her spine.
“You know what I think?” he asked.
She lolled her head to the side while he spoke between kisses.
“I think your problem isn’t your laptop or packing or being a rude guest. I think you don’t like surprises.” He pressed his lips to each vertebrae, slowly trailing his way down her spine. “You need to always stay in control and you can’t do anything that isn’t precisely planned and thoroughly considered.”
She scoffed. “That’s my mother, not me.”
He slipped a warm hand over her breast as those succulent lips neared her tailbone. “So that’s where you get it from.”
“I’m nothing like her. She’s a homebody, I’m an executive.” His mouth touched the curve of her butt before he turned and went back the way he came. “Honestly, the woman drives me crazy. She’d had my life planned out while I was still in the womb. To this day it burns her that I didn’t settle in the Hamptons with a surgeon husband and two-point-seven kids.”
“I’m sure your mother’s proud of you,” he uttered.
“Maybe, but she wasn’t pleasant to live with. I don’t know how my father handles it. Everything has to be done exactly her way. She has ideas in her head how everything should be, and heaven help the person who tries to change her mind once it’s made up. You should have seen her planning a family reunion last year. Every minute of the day was—”
She stopped and gasped. “Oh, my, I really am like her.”
“I’m sensing similarities,” Kit said casually.
Monica stared blankly at the shelves on the wall—the ones she’d meticulously placed and decorated with books stacked exactly so. She recalled the day the maid dusted and mistakenly put things back in the wrong place. She’d noticed immediately, couldn’t do another thing until she’d taken it all down and put it back the way she had it.
How could she have gotten to this age and never seen it?
Everyone always said she was exactly like her father. And in many ways she was. But in the face of this discussion she realized that she’d also picked up a few traits from her mother, too—and not the ones she’d preferred. The perfectionist, unbending and controlling—Monica wouldn’t have believed it, yet here she was, shooting down Kit’s suggestion exactly the same way and using the same unyielding attitude she would have expected of her mother. She didn’t want to be that person.
“I can’t believe this,” she uttered. “I sound exactly like her.”
Kit took her hand and pressed kisses to her fingers. “Then I like her already.”
Monica shook her head. “No, not in a good way.”
She’d never noticed the similarity before, but it seemed obvious now, and her reaction was nothing short of pure horror.
“Let’s do it,” she said. “Let’s go to Austin.”
She tossed the blankets, intent to prove that she didn’t have to be that person. The best part of self-awareness was the ability to make a change, right? So just because she’d inherited a few of her mother’s least desirable traits didn’t mean she had to accept them. But when she scooted from the bed Kit clasped her forearm and pulled her back.
“What are you doing?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to take me to your ranch.”
“In a minute.”
He nudged her down and began ravaging her like he’d done several times this evening. “First, I need to make love to you again.”
Heat spilled through her as flesh connected with flesh and those dark eyes took on the familiar glaze of sultry intent.
“What’s this? Another sudden change in plans?” she asked.
He dipped his mouth to hers and spoke through a kiss. “Yes. You’re incredibly sexy when you act on impulse.”
4
MONICA WOKE UP TO THE smell of coffee, bacon and something deliciously sweet. Pancakes? Blinking her eyes open, she looked around the large room for a clock and found none. Her only clue as to the time was the sunlight peeking through the wood shutters, which didn’t tell her much.
She reminded herself that it didn’t matter. She was on a new quest to be less rigid, and things like hours and minutes on her days off weren’t supposed to matter. Pulling herself from the bed, she padded across Kit’s bedroom and found the overnight bag she’d thrown together. Then she washed up and dressed before venturing out to track down the source of those delectable smells. On the way she gathered her watch and was startled to see it was after nine, but considering how late they’d gotten to bed, she supposed it was reasonable. It was nearly two when they’d finally turned in, later than that when they’d actually gotten to sleep.
A smile curved her lips. A late night indeed, but well worth it.
She stepped out into the large great room. It was bigger than it seemed the night before. The decor was rustic and manly, comfortable and casual. A true reflection of Kit, as she was learning, and it recalled the old saying that everything was bigger in Texas. His house and his ranch—and a few other things—most definitely were.
“I knew the bacon would draw you out,” Kit said from the stove as she stepped up to the stone counter and took a seat at the bar. “Or was it the coffee?”
He stood barefoot at the stove wearing only a pair of worn jeans and a button-down flannel shirt that looked soft to the touch. His dark hair was still damp from a shower and through the heavenly scent of bacon and maple, the fresh odor of soap and aftershave seeped through. He’d left his shirttails out, giving him that rumpled look she found delectably attractive. Why she’d always gone for the polished look she’d never know. This easy, rugged strength was so much sexier.
“It was the smell of maple syrup,” she said. She eyed the feast he was constructing and her stomach growled. “Tell me you’ve got fluffy carbs for me to pour it on.”
“Pancakes are in the warmer.”
She brightened. “If they’re good, I’ll ask you to marry me.”
He smiled and winked. “I’ll say yes.”
She laughed at the joke, even though the look in his eyes said he might be serious. Instead, she focused on the coffee he placed in front of her.
“I’ve set you up in my office,” he said, placing platters in front of them before joining her at the bar for breakfast. Grinning, he added, “I suppose you didn’t get as much work done on the plane as you’d hoped.”
No, she hadn’t. Once they’d settled on his private jet she’d opened her laptop and tried to read through the reports, but she’d underestimated how sexy Kit would be on his phone talking business in that smoky Texas drawl. She’d kept forcing her attention back to her numbers and he’d kept yanking it away, and with one thing leading to another, she ultimately ended up a card-carrying member of the mile-high club.
“I had some trouble concentrating,” she replied, returning his knowing look.
“Well, that won’t be a problem today. The study is quiet and I won’t even be within earshot.”
“What are your plans?”
He talked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I’m working on a project out in the barn. When you want a break, come out and I’ll show it to you.”
She took a bite of pancake—fluffy enough to marry him, it turned out—and replied, “Fair enough.”
UNFORTUNATELY, TWO HOURS later she was no less distracted than she’d been on the plane. She’d gotten through the reports, made some cursory notes, but every time she started her write-up her mind wandered to the glorious time she was having with Kit and how much she really liked him.
They had more in common than she’d assumed that first night. At the time, she’d thought she was only dealing with attraction and sexual desire, but the more she got to know him, the more she began to recognize genuine affection. It was an experience that both excited her and left her a little afraid. Up to now, her life had been simple. She had her job and her travels, neither one interfering with the other. Now a man had come into that world, one who didn’t even live in Chicago, and her boat was starting to rock.
She wondered what he was doing. What was his project in the barn?
Then she scolded herself and put her focus back on work. John was expecting her briefing Monday morning, and she always provided him with the materials beforehand so he could review them in advance.
But that was Monday, and technically she had plenty of time to put her presentation together. Even probably on the plane ride back to Chicago if she really focused and buckled down.
Biting her lip, she closed her laptop. She’d never made a habit of putting off work, not even back in college. She’d always preferred to get it done first and play later—if there was time left over. But it wasn’t every day that a woman got whisked off in a private jet by a sexy cowboy to spend the weekend at his big sprawling ranch. It might never even happen again. So caution thrown aside, she left her write-up and set off to find him.
Despite several buildings on the property, she headed toward the one that most looked like a barn, pleased when she pulled open the door and found Kit inside. He was standing at a lathe, its motor whirring and sawdust flying as the machine spun what appeared to be a wooden table leg. He held a tool that was either smoothing or shaping the wood as it spun.
With her presence unknown, she stood and watched him work. The man was lethally handsome with his thick brown hair and solid square jaw. Though he shaved daily, his beard grew quickly, giving him a perpetually masculine look that she found deliciously attractive. He’d taken off the flannel shirt he’d worn at breakfast and was now clad in a T-shirt that showed off those muscled biceps she’d already grown so fond of. For several minutes she stood watching, listening to the country music from the radio, and as she took in the scene, she couldn’t help but be amused over this odd situation she’d found herself in.
If someone had told her last week that she’d be standing in a barn outside Austin tapping her toes to honky-tonk music while her wealthy cowboy lover sanded table legs, she would have checked them for drugs. Yet here she was.
And she was enjoying it, too.
He shut off the machine and pulled off his safety glasses, and when he caught sight of her his face lit with a smile that touched her chest.
“Hey, sexy,” he drawled.
KIT SLAPPED THE DUST from his hands and tugged Monica into a sensual kiss as soon as she came within reach. He knew he shouldn’t be so insatiable. He didn’t want her to think he only wanted her body, but he couldn’t help it. He’d found an appetite for the beautiful brunette he couldn’t seem to control.
Pressing his lips to hers, he found the sweet taste of maple sugar and it made him think of candy. He loved kissing her, loved having his hands on her and feeling those long fingers on him. It was a sugary treat he could get used to every day.
A low moan purred from her throat as she slid her hands up his chest, getting him hard and horny in one smooth stroke. And as he pulled her closer and dove in for something serious, he wondered where in his workshop might be the best spot for a quickie.
“You were going to show me your project,” she uttered to his lips.
“Something better just walked in.”
He slipped his hands up under her light cotton blouse and cupped her breasts in his palms, deciding that the workbench could be cleared pretty quickly. But then he remembered that Doug Rawlins, a mechanic, was due any minute to give him an estimate on one of his trucks.
Reluctantly, he pulled away. “You torment me, you know that?” he grumbled.
“I didn’t ask you to stop.”
“No, but I’m expecting company, and give me two more minutes near that sexy body of yours, we’ll end up putting on quite a show.”
“Hmm.” She touched a finger to her lips. “I could do kinky, but I do draw the line at voyeurism.”
His interest piqued. “How kinky?”
“Your project,” she said, straightening her blouse and moving toward his lathe.
Storing that comment for later, he guided her toward another room, where he’d been finishing the desk he was working on. “It’s a Christmas present for my niece.”
Monica gaped as she stepped over and studied the piece. “You made this?”
Shrugging, he tried to brush off his boyish pride in impressing the woman. “I’m working on a matching chair, but I’m running out of time.”
He stepped to the desk. It was pine with a beveled top and three drawers, simple in construction and stained in a light natural finish. What made it special was the carved roses around the drawer pulls, and seeing her reaction confirmed it had been worth the effort.
She ran a finger over the carvings. “You did this by hand?”
He nodded.
