Page 24 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
“I can order you anything you like if we don’t have it in stock,” Jeff said. “Are you back in Last Stand for good, Anders? Are you retiring from the tour?” he asked, curiosity stamped on his face.
Anders’ smile fled. He looked at Tinsley, and she felt panic stir in her stomach.
Oh. God. He wasn’t thinking of giving up his career, was he? For her? No. The baby. He’d hate her. Resent the child.
“No,” she said quickly. “Definitely not. Anders is on top of the leaderboard and likes it there.”
Her smug smile lasted all of two seconds.
“Gotta admit I like it on top.” He winked down at her with a full smile—two dimples, sparkling blue-ocean eyes like he’d just made a joke shared between them.
“I handed you that one,” she groused, trying to ignore how just looking up into his amused face softened her core and flared her nipples.
This version of Anders was catnip, tasty and addictive, but it had not been this side of him that had reeled her in and weakened her resolve to indulge herself one last time.
He sprawled down on the bed next to her and pulled her flat.
“Stop,” she whispered.
“Haven’t even started, darlin’.”
“And cut thedarlin’,” she said firmly. “Save it for your buckle bunny fans.”
“Anders calls everybody darlin’,” Jeff said. “It was his thing in high school. All the girls loved it. They giggled and followed him and blinked a lot.”
“What fun.” Tinsley winced for her sex, but she’d probably been just as goofy.
Anders lost his cocky smile. “Small towns,” he muttered ruefully.
“Wonder what else I’ll learn about you, while I’m here,” she said sweetly and rolled to standing up.
“Anything else to show us?” she encouraged.
“This is the TEMPUR-LUXE breeze,” Jeff said. “It’s thirteen inches and a firm mattress. You like firm or soft?” Jeff asked Tinsley earnestly.
She ran her hand along the plush covered mattress. “Hard as hell,” she deadpanned and reveled in Anders’ cough.
Jeff waved his hand over the mattress in invitation.
Not creepy or awkward at all. Then Tinsley looked at the price tag. More than five grand?
“No thanks.” And then she squeaked as Anders swooped her up in his arms. For a brief moment she felt his rock-hard abs teasing one side of her body before he all but tossed her on the mattress.
“Good bounce,” he commented, looming. “Roll over.”
Tinsley barely scooted out of the way before Anders’ big body was stretched out beside her. He had his boots on the mattress protector at the bottom and one arm curled back behind his head. The pose was unbearably sexy.
For some reason her heartbeat raced into her throat making it hard to swallow.
“Relax,” he said, and rolled to his side so he could look down at her.
Like that was possible lying so close to him with an audience. She could feel Ander’ heat. Smell his appealing masculine scent that had always reminded her of sun-warmed grass and pine and fresh earth. And her body reacted—nerves jangled, her breath tangled, and her limbs felt fluid and warm. She felt juiced, primed for action, and her thighs had an inappropriate urge to part as if eager to cradle him.
It’s just sex. Biology. Chemistry. Dopamine and endorphins.
But the reminders didn’t give her the brains to pull her fascinated gaze away. His eyes were such a beautiful blue and with the light behind him, he glowed like an angel—although a fallen one. His Stetson rested on the bed beside him, and the moment seemed way too intimate.
“Comfortable?” he queried. Then his hand brushed over her forehead and along her cheek.
