Page 5 of Back in the Texan's Bed
He hated that his cock had hardened the instant his eyes clashed with that startled, wide, espresso gaze. Most of all, he despised the heavy, primal thud of his heart that echoed in his stiffening flesh.
What the hell was Charlotte doing back in Royal?
She’d left him. Discarded him like trash. As if she’d never taken him inside her. Or moaned his name in that sexy whimper he’d become addicted to eliciting from her. As if they’d never curled their sweat-dampened bodies around each other, wrapped in their own private cocoon where the outside world couldn’t intrude.
Charlotte Jarrett had completed the lesson Ross’s mother had started; he’d earned a well-learned and hard-won degree in the field of emotional desertion.Be foolish enough to become attached, and they don’t stay.Maybe it was something in him that made it so easy for them to walk away from—his father’s four marriages were exhibits A through D. Rusty went through women as often as the change of guard took place at Buckingham Palace. Like father, like son. At least Ross didn’t marry them.
No, he’d finally learned, courtesy of Charlotte. Fuck and move on to the next one. No promises. No strings. No entanglements. No feelings. As long as he adhered to those rules, no one would ever play him for a fool again.
Never hurt me. Never leave me.
With a sharp mental slash, Ross incised those ridiculous and too weak words from his head. He hadn’t been hurt when Charlotte had up and left Royal. Lefthim. He’d been mad as hell. And that anger continued to simmer inside his chest, kindling lower in his stomach as she neared the table where he and Billy dined.
If he’d known that when his friend requested to meet Sheen’s chef he would be confronting Charlotte again, Ross would’ve stalked right out of this place.
Hell, he still might.
“Good evening,” Charlotte greeted, her gaze fixed on Billy. Out of habit, Ross rose from his seat, manners drilled into him from birth. Even as he stood, with his pal following suit, that soft, low voice slipped underneath Ross’s suit jacket and his shirt, stroking over his skin. Even before they’d become lovers, that husky tone had reminded him of tangled sheets, throats sore and chafed from pleasure-soaked screams. “I’m Head Chef Charlotte Jarrett here at Sheen. I hope the meal is to your liking and you’re enjoying your experience with us tonight.” Then, just when Ross believed she wouldn’t acknowledge him at all, she peered at him and dipped her chin. “Hello, Ross. It’s good to see you again.”
Lie.
The word scalded his tongue, roared in his head. She was as happy to see him sitting in her restaurant as he was to be here.
“You two know each other?” Billy asked as they lowered back into their chairs, saving Ross from having to reply to that fake smile and sentiment. His friend glanced back and forth between the two of them, a small frown creasing his brow even as curiosity lit his blue eyes.
“Yes,” Ross ground out, then inhaled, deliberately releasing a breath and relaxing his clenched jaw. “Charlotte worked as the head chef at Elegance Ranch several years ago,” he said, referring to the Edmond family ranch. Then added, “Before she moved to California for another job.”
Damn, why had he added that? Yes, she’d moved; it was in the past, and he no longer gave a damn. But still... What the hell was she doing back in Royal?
“What a small world.” Billy did the tennis match back-and-forth once more. “California?” His buddy arched a dark eyebrow. “What part, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Santa Monica,” she replied evenly, still wearing that damn polite smile he detested. He recognized it; her mask, he’d called it. She’d always given it to his father, but never Ross.
Until now.
“I love Santa Monica. It’s a wonderful city. Not that Royal isn’t just as beautiful. But California’s loss is our gain.” Billy smiled warmly and rose once more, extending his hand toward Charlotte. “Well, since you and Ross don’t need to introduce yourselves, allow me. Billy Holmes, and it’s a pleasure to meet such a lovely and talented chef.”
“Thank you.” Charlotte took his hand into hers, and even though it was just a simple press of palms, Ross had to fight back an inane urge to lurch to his feet and step in between them, to prevent his college friend—whom he trusted as much as his brother and sister—from touching her. But she’d revoked that privilege three years ago, and he didn’t want to request it again. “Are you enjoying your meals?”
“Yes,” Billy praised. “We had your braised beef signature dish, and it’s delicious. I can’t say I’ve tasted better.”
“Thank you,” she repeated, real warmth entering her smile. “Then I’d suggest trying our signature dessert, as well. A peach meringue torte with chocolate crumbles and a dollop of Chantilly cream.”
“We’ll take it. How can we say no to that?” Billy chuckled, reclaiming his seat. But clearly, he wasn’t ready to let Charlotte go, much to Ross’s aggravation.
Shit. How much longer did he have to sit here and pretend as if he couldn’t catch her sweet yet sharp scent of sugar and figs. If he’d been blindfolded and set in a room full of people, he could still detect her delectable essence. Still locateher.
“I’ll place your dessert order myself,” she said. “Thank you both—” for only the second time since she arrived at their table, she quickly glanced at him, then away “—for joining us at Sheen tonight. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Wait, Chef, one more moment of your time, please,” Billy called out, and Ross narrowed his eyes on him. Jesus, what now? He needed Charlotte away from him before he did something stupid. Like escort her out of this restaurant and demand answers. Or commit the cardinal sin of digging his fingers underneath that neat bun at the back of her head and loosening it, freeing her dark brown hair to see if it still contained that same coarse silk texture. Discover if it still swept her shoulder blades or if she’d cut it. Find out whether she’d emit that same low gasp if he fisted the thick strands and tugged, whether her eyes would darken with desire...
Yeah, she had to go.
“Sure,” Charlotte said, her tone even, and if Ross hadn’t been studying her so closely, he would’ve missed the flicker of impatience in her eyes. That, too, he easily remembered about her. Cooking,creatinghad been her number one passion, and she had to be chafing at this dog and pony show when she could be back in her precious kitchen. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, we’re—” Billy waved a hand toward Ross and then back at himself “—working on a luxury food, art and wine festival called Soiree on the Bay, to be held late July on Appaloosa Island. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes.” She nodded, her focus fully trained on Billy...and only the rapid beat of her pulse at the base of her neck betrayed her agitation. Right now, she probably wished the collar of her chef’s jacket fully covered her neck. Because if it did, he wouldn’t guess that she was most likely recalling the time he’d secretly taken her to the small, private island in Trinity Bay that his family owned. He’d escorted her there in her first helicopter ride, though it was also accessible by private ferry and airplane. They’d spent a lazy day and sizzling night at the boutique resort on the pristine beaches that occupied the western side of the island along with several large vacation homes.
