Lone Star Lovers. Jessica Lemmon

you think you’re being cute, but my parents’ house has twenty-two bathrooms.”

      “I know.” She sipped her wine and peered over the tiny rim at Zach. “I looked them up and their house was in Architectural Digest. It’s incredible.”

      “It’s ridiculous. But my mother likes to redecorate. With thirty-seven thousand square feet, she’s never at a loss for a room to have painted or altered to her ever-changing preferences.”

      Zach leaned back on the sofa, his arm draped around Pen. She snuggled closer and he adjusted the blanket to cover them both.

      “Do you get along with them? Or are you the classically overlooked middle child?”

      A low laugh that might have been confirmation bobbed his throat. “I get along with them. I joke about my mother’s frivolity, but she’s a great mother. My dad became sick and her world stopped on a dime.”

      “How is he now?”

      “Good. Misses his bacon and sausage.”

      “And strip steaks?” she teased.

      “It’s Dallas, sweetheart. Men eat steak.”

      “Right. Heaven forbid you do something as effeminate as not eat a cow.” She grinned, liking the way she could volley back at him. He was one of the easiest people she’d ever been around.

      He moved in on her again and the kiss lasted a little longer than either of them intended. “Glad you packed a bag, Penelope Brand.”

      Her heart kicked into overdrive when Zach set aside his wine and took her wineglass from her hand. His insistent kisses peppered down her throat and collarbone. When he reached her stomach, his hand flattened on the space between her breasts and he pushed her to her back.

      Then he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and made her dessert.

      Again.