Page 12 of Takes Two to Tango

She opened her eyes. He'd wrapped the afghan low on his hips. Then he switched on a lamp and grinned at her. It was a sexy, knowing grin.

"You peeked, didn't you?"

“I did not,"she said, crossing her arms over her chest. She hoped she didn't get struck down for lying. "And I wasn't breaking in. Just trying to... talk to you."

He tugged the throw tighter around his hips. "So talk."

Rayne looked around the room. It was clean for a bachelor pad with tasteful bookshelves loaded with books. Was that Thoreau and Kafka next to... Debbie Macomber? She pulled her gaze away and took in a rich multicolored hooked rug that centered the room along with pictures of various birds hanging evenly over the plush couch.

"Ahem."

"Oh. Um, I came to apologize," she said, keeping her gaze on the print of a snowy egret. She didn't want to look at Brent again. He was more tempting than chocolate chip cookies, a virgin beach with no footprints, and a kitchen utensil sale all rolled into one. Rayne was afraid she might do something insane, like kiss him. Or join him for a naked frolic around the living area.

What the hell was wrong with her? She was a deliberate woman. Responsible. Businesslike. Horny.Strike the last thought.She concentrated on the egret's feathers.

"Apology accepted, though I don't think you did anything wrong. You were honest. That's not a crime." His voice was emotionless. Nothing to read in the remark.

"Well, so I'm not necessarily sorry, but I did come to see if you would do the work. I shouldn't have-" She tried to recollect her thoughts. "What I'm having trouble saying is that I shouldn't have let our past interfere with the future. That's silly. We need your help." She moved her gaze to something besides the egret. This time the little blue button on the remote control.

"Rayne, look at me."

"I can’t.”

He sighed. "Why?"

"Because this feels like a contrived romance novel plot. Sex-starved widow encounters hot old flame," she muttered.

''Are you a sex-starved widow?” His voice was more than curious. As if maybe be was considering dropping the woven throw. She didn't want that. Or at least wasn't supposed to want that.

"You might as well ask me what I weigh. That's something I'd never admit to."

''Then head for the door, woman.”

Rayne rolled her eyes. "Seriously?”

Brent reached out, clicked off the lamp, and moved her way."Oh, yeah, haven't you heard? I'm the master of delivering the goods to the sex-starved of Howard County.”

"Oh, jeez," Rayne said, moving toward the door in case he wasn't teasing, even though part of her wanted to stay and find out. His laughter dogged her steps. The son of a gun was playing with her. She flung a last look over her shoulder. He stood framed against the darkness like a naughty ad for men's cologne or close-shaving razors.

"So will you be there tomorrow?"

He smiled. "Yeah. You can count on me."

Rayne arched an eyebrow. "Okay, I'll hold you to that."

Then she turned and made her way to the inn wondering if his promise meant as much now as it had back then. And wondering why she hadn't left as soon as she'd seen he was spectacularly naked.

She didn't know the answer to one question and was very afraid of the answer to the other.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SOUP BUBBLED MERRILY on the stove as Rayne sliced truffles for the fennel and dandelion salad she would serve atop the thinly sliced Bose pears. The rich smell of chicken broth made her tummy growl but she kept slicing through the earthy pungency of the delicate fungus while the smoky Gouda cheese sitting on the wooden cutting board. She'd found the cheese at a farmer's market in Dallas last weekend. It was divine and she'd already sampled too much of it.

"Mom, can we buy some Pop-Tarts?"

Rayne recoiled as if Henry had asked to eat a booger. "Good Lord, no. Where have you eaten Pop-Tarts?"

Henry shrugged."Back in Austin. At Kyle Warner's house. He had all kinds of them. Strawberry, cinnamon, and blue-"

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