Wed to the Texan / Taming Clint Westmoreland: Wed to the Texan. Brenda Jackson

You always expect to win, that much I know about you. But nobody gets what they want all the time.”

      “True,” he said, smiling at her with a flash of white teeth in a warm grin that was an invitation to relax her guard. She wondered how many times he’d coaxed what he wanted out of women with that irresistible smile. And she was as vulnerable to it as any of them.

      “Are you free late this afternoon?” she asked sweetly, smiling at him in turn, sure she couldn’t do to him what he could to her.

      Pleasure flashed in his eyes. “Sure, I’m free,” he said, reaching over to take her hand in his and lightly rub his thumb across her knuckles. Tingles spun from his touch, fanning an ever smoldering blaze. “And, for you, if I weren’t, I’d get free. What did you have in mind?”

      “I’ll call this morning and see if I can catch the boys. You can start coaching late this afternoon,” she said. Jake would hate to start today—all the more reason to make him do so, as far as she was concerned.

      Instantly, his eyes turned glacial. He dropped her hand and sat back. “Dammit, Emily, this coaching thing is going to be disastrous. Football is history in my life. And I’m not a teacher.”

      “You’re a smart man, Jake, and these are good kids. You’ll manage.” She paused while the waitress appeared with orange juice and cups of steaming coffee.

      She fussed over Jake and then left them. “I don’t think our waitress has noticed my wedding ring.” Emily laughed. “Let me tell you about the boys. Orlando Crane and Anthony Day are American. The other two haven’t been in this country long. English is their second language.”

      “Dammit, Emily! I can’t talk to them?”

      “Oh, please!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “You travel and do business all over the world,” she said, her anger flaring at his stubborn refusal to cooperate. “How many languages do you speak?” Jake clamped his mouth shut and the glacial look returned to his expression. Undaunted, she continued, “Enzo Oquendo is Costa Rican and Tanek Kozlik is from Germany, but that wasn’t where he was born.”

      Suddenly Jake sat back and relaxed, a crooked smile tugging up one corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe you’ve managed this.” He leaned forward over the table and his voice dropped. “I want you, Em. I want to make love to you and to get through that iron wall of anger you’ve thrown up between us.”

      Her pulse drummed and her nipples became taut as his gaze drifted languidly over her. She wound her fingers together in her lap and hoped she could maintain the iron wall of anger he referred to. “This is one time you won’t be getting your way. You brought it on yourself,” she whispered, leaning toward him; she looked into his eyes and saw the tiny flecks of green near his pupils. “You’re not going to make love to me.”

      “We’ll see, Em,” he whispered, touching her throat.

      “You want me to need you and beg for your loving, to get wild with you so you can flaunt that male dominance of yours. Not this time,” she said, shaking her head and hoping with all her heart she could live up to her words. Looking into his thickly lashed eyes, she was thankful they were out in public because she was melting right now. Her knees were weak, her insides jelly and she was hot, wanting him and trying to bank the hot images his words called to mind.

      “Perhaps. Challenges are always interesting,” he said. Again she received one of those come-hither, crooked smiles that was as seductive as a caress. He drew his fingers along her throat lightly, and she knew her racing pulse would give him satisfaction.

      To her relief their waitress appeared with their breakfasts, placing a golden omelet in front of her, along with crisp strips of bacon, flaky biscuits and a bowl of fruit with ripe red strawberries, blueberries and chunks of green melon. She still had no appetite, but knew she should eat. She hadn’t eaten a thing yesterday.

      “When I get back to the hotel, the first thing I’ll do is try to make arrangements for this afternoon. I’ll go with you to introduce you to the boys and I’ll bring refreshments.”

      Jake looked amused. “If I have to do this, I’ll get the damn refreshments so you don’t have to lug around a cooler. What do they want—cold beer?”

      “Don’t you dare take beer to those boys!” she snapped. “Take some soda and get them a pizza and sandwiches. Get them candy bars and cookies, too. They’re always hungry.”

      “So am I,” Jake said in a silky voice, letting his gaze roam over her. She knew he wasn’t thinking about food.

      “Jake, pay attention,” she said.

      “I am,” he answered with great innocence. “I like to flirt with you, Em.”

      “That time has passed,” she replied firmly.

      He reached over to take her wrist and place his thumb on her pulse. His lips curved in satisfaction. “I don’t think so. Your pulse gives me a different answer.”

      Glaring at him, she ate in silence, wanting to return to the hotel and get on with her day. Jake was touching, flirting and trying to beguile her. Everything he was doing was having an effect on her. What woman could resist him when he turned on the charm?

      “So tell me about these kids. Why are they important to you?” he asked.

      “I know Orlando and Anthony through Dad’s church. They both tutor kids on Wednesday nights. Anthony comes from a broken home. His dad is not around, he has lots of brothers and sisters and he ran away a few months ago. I don’t think his mother cared. To keep him off the street, Orlando took him home. There’s no dad in that household, either, but his mother and grandmother are good people and Orlando is bright.” She wondered if Jake was even listening. She doubted she’d stirred one shred of sympathy. “The other two families have come here to try to better their lives.”