chase or the seduction?” The imp danced in her eyes as she looked him over as an old-maid schoolmarm might.
“Both,” he promised, meaning it. He hooked an arm over the chair and pushed it onto the two back legs while he watched the thoughts dart through her eyes. He wished he could read them. She was an interesting woman.
“Oh-oh,” she said sotto voce. “Here come my relatives.”
He glanced over his shoulder. A man in a lightweight suit, a blue shirt and striped tie came toward them. The woman beside him wore a beige lace dress. They seemed to be dressed for a formal wedding rather than a bazaar. They were around fifty, a handsome couple actually, the man a tad thin, the woman a tad plump, but both energetic and healthy-looking.
He got to his feet when they approached the table.
Anne introduced them before they could speak. “My aunt and uncle, Marge and Joseph Pauly. Uncle Joe is the mayor. Aunt Marge is on the city council. She opposed him on a land-use tax and got elected. This is Jon Sinclair.”
“Marge. Joe. Glad to meet you.” Jon shook hands with them. He felt like a suitor on display as they looked him over.
As on the tax issue, he realized they had assessed him and come up on opposite sides. The mayor smiled benevolently; the councilwoman smiled coldly, disapproval in her eyes—which were the same intriguing blue as her niece’s.
The defiance he’d felt as a teenager surfaced. One thing he hated was being censured by self-righteous harpies, male or female.
“Are you all right?” The aunt turned to her niece as soon as the amenities were over. She peered at the younger woman so anxiously that Jon studied her, too.
She looked fine to him—a woman of many charms, all of which he’d like to sample. Also, she was levelheaded. She’d taken his announcement about marriage without a blink. Good. He liked savvy women.
“Of course,” Anne replied. “Did you know that Jon has taken over the Sinclair Ranch? It supplies the mums I get in for fall and the poinsettias at Christmas. He’s supplying the plants I’ll need for the country club dance during Christmas week.” She gave him a significant look that said those flowers had better be ready. Jon vowed to check on them first thing.
“You raise flowers?” The aunt was frankly disbelieving.
Jon assumed a broad grin and tried to look the part. “Yes, ma’am, I do, on one of the prettiest little spreads in all of Texas,” he drawled.
Anne nudged him with a sharp elbow. “Laying it on too thick, Sinclair. These are astute politicians.”
He tried to look subdued by her reprimand, but a smile kept blooming on his lips. He hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in years. Anne was a challenge he couldn’t resist.
The uncle grinned at him, but the aunt looked annoyed. Hmm, he’d have to work on the old biddy and see if he couldn’t thaw her out a little. However, before he could compliment her on her dress, she turned to her niece, effectively tuning him out.
“I went by the booth. Ellen said you’d had all the kisses you could stand for one day,” her aunt said anxiously. “Snooze Allyn said you fainted.” She put a hand on Anne’s forehead. “I knew you shouldn’t be standing around in the sun like that.”
“Well, it was for a good cause.” Anne beamed a smile at Jon and moved a step away from her aunt’s solicitous care. “And I made almost a hundred dollars.”
“Yeah, you still owe me,” he reminded her.
A tiny thrill worked its way down Anne’s back. His eyes issued a dare. She wished… “You got your kiss, cowboy.”
“One. That leaves nineteen to go.”
She caught her breath at the thought of nineteen more of those kisses. “I can’t hold my breath that long.”
“We’ll take short breaks,” he assured her.
Their eyes met in a duel of laughter and desire. He was a man to steal a maiden’s heart, she acknowledged. Longing flowed through her like wind through a willow.
“Is Randall coming home this week?” the aunt interrupted.
“Uh, no. Not that I know of.”
Silver eyes narrowed on her. “Who’s Randall?” Jon asked, ignoring her aunt and uncle, both of whom listened in on the conversation with blatant interest.
“The senator from our district,” Anne replied. “He’s in Austin while the state legislature is in session.”
“Oh, a politician.”
With these words and a casual shrug, the senator was dismissed as being unimportant in her life. “Yes. We see each other.” She waited for Jon’s reaction to this statement.
“As in exclusively?” he demanded, his gaze spearing into hers, thrilling her with his quick concern.
“Really,” Aunt Marge said indignantly. “It’s hardly any of your business.”
He shoved his hat off his forehead, stuck his hands in his rear pockets and rocked back on his heels. A posture he assumed when he was considering things, Anne decided, remembering his doing the same at her house.
The action pulled his jeans snug across his lean hips. She recalled the feel of his hard body against hers when she’d fallen against him at the kissing booth. He’d been aroused.
Heat surged through her in tiny star bursts of reaction to his masculine stance. She was attracted to him…in a way she’d never been to Randall. Her heart had never gone out of control when the handsome politician kissed her. It was worrisome.
Did she dare take Jon Sinclair on as an opponent? He’d made it clear he was looking for adventure. Was she? One mad adventure before eternity closed over her?
“Would you care to join us?” he asked her aunt and uncle. “I’ll be glad to get you a hot dog or whatever you like.”
A polite maverick. She gave him a smile of approval.
“We’ve had lunch, but a tall, cool lemonade would taste real good right now,” the uncle spoke up.
Jon noted the mayor’s Texas drawl had thickened a bit. When he glanced that way, the mayor smiled. Jon thought he saw an imp of mischief in Joe’s dark brown eyes. Uncle and niece shared the same sense of humor.
“Yes, that would be nice,” Marge said, her gaze darting from Anne to him. “I’ll help you get them.”
Jon raised one eyebrow but followed along at the woman’s heels as she led the way across the lawn. As soon as they were out of hearing of the other two, she turned on him in squinty-eyed disapproval.
“Anne has a heart condition,” she told him in a low, intense tone. “She mustn’t be upset in any way.”
This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. He glanced over his shoulder. Anne looked the picture of health to him—pink cheeks, clear eyes, a smiling mouth, a firm, luscious body. His heart kicked up at the thought…as well as other parts.
Was this warning some kind of ploy on the aunt’s part? She didn’t exactly keep it a secret that she favored the senator as the companion of choice for her niece. But that was for Anne to decide. She was a mature adult.
He spread his hands in an innocent gesture. “I wouldn’t think of upsetting Anne.”
“This isn’t funny, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I’m not laughing.” He leveled a steady gaze on her as the old rebellious spirit stirred in him. Being told not to do something had always set him on a direct path for it. Of course, rebellion sometimes led to disaster.
“Just what are your intentions toward my niece?” the older woman demanded, stopping in the shade of the oak tree and out of sight of the other two.