house and he turned off an alarm.
“Gates, guards and alarms. You’re well-protected.”
He shrugged. “This is a family home. Ninety percent of the time, no one lives here,” he said, taking her arm as he switched on a low light in the entryway.
“I’m sorry you lost your parents,” she said, remembering headlines several years ago that had told about the plane crash in Denmark when his parents and six other Texans had been killed.
“Thanks. What about your parents?”
“They’re deceased,” she said stiffly, amazed again that he didn’t know about her mother. She had never known her father and wasn’t certain her mother even knew which man fathered her.
Aaron had led her through a kitchen and down a wide hall into a large family room elegantly furnished with plush navy leather and deeply burnished cherrywood furniture. An immense redbrick fireplace was at one end of the room and a thick Oriental rug covered part of the polished oak floor. He crossed the room to the fireplace to start the fire and in minutes the logs blazed. Following him into the room, she wandered around to look at oil paintings of western scenes. When she glanced back at him, he’d shed his tux coat. As her gaze ran across his broad shoulders, she drew a deep breath. He removed his tie and unfastened his collar and there was something so personal in watching him shed part of his clothing, that her cheeks flushed.
As soon as he moved to the bar, he glanced at her. “Wine, beer, whiskey, soda pop, what would you like to drink?”
“White wine sounds fine,” she answered, watching his well-shaped hands move over sparkling crystal while she sat on a corner of the cool leather sofa. He joined her, handing her a glass. When he sat down, he raised his glass. “Here’s to tonight, the night we met, Pamela,” he said softly and his words were like a caress.
While she smiled at him, she touched her glass lightly to his. “You think tonight is going to be memorable? You’re a sweet-talkin’ devil, Aaron Black. You’re dangerous,” she said, flirting with him and watching his green eyes sparkle. Yet even as she teased him, she had a feeling that his words, tonight, the night we met, would stick with her forever.
“I’m dangerous? I think that’s good news,” he said, sipping his wine and setting it on the large glass and cherrywood table in front of them. He scooted closer to her and reached out, picking up locks of her hair and letting them slide through his fingers. She was too aware of his faint touches, his knuckles just barely brushing her throat and ear and cheek. “Now why am I dangerous?”
“All that fancy talking can turn a girl’s head mighty fast. Texas men are too good at it.”
“And Texas women are the prettiest women in the world,” he said softly, his gaze running over her features.
She laughed and set her wine on the table as she looked at him with amusement. His brows arched in question. “That is high-fallutin’ talkin’! I’m too tall, too freckled and there’s never been a time in my entire life that anyone told me what a beauty I am, so that’s a stretch, Aaron.”
He didn’t smile in return which made her heart miss a beat, but he gazed at her solemnly while he stroked his fingers through her hair. “Maybe I see something others haven’t seen.”
“Oh, heavens, can you lay it on thick!”
“Just telling the truth,” he drawled and smiled a lazy smile at her.
They were in dangerous waters and she glanced around, trying to get the conversation less personal. “If no one lives here most of the time, who takes care of your house?” she asked, looking at the immaculate room.
“We have a staff,” he answered casually without taking his eyes from hers. His fingers stroked her nape in featherlight brushes that ignited fires deep within her. His voice was low. The only light now was from the blazing fire, and there was a cozy intimacy that was made electric by his nearness. “Why are you a teacher?”
“I love children,” she answered, and he nodded his approval. “I feel strongly that all children should be able to read, so I like working with them, particularly in reading. I never had any family. Maybe that’s why I feel the way I do about kids. Why did you want to be a diplomat?”
“Everything about it fascinated me,” he said quietly, his green gaze studying her as if he were memorizing every feature. “I thought I could help save the world when I went into it.”
“And now?”
“Now I know that’s an impossibility. The old world will keep turning no matter what I do. There will always be wars and intrigue, and now, more than ever, terrorism.”
“You sound disenchanted.”
“Not tonight. Tonight is good,” he said, giving her a heated, direct look that blatantly conveyed his desire.
“Behave yourself, Aaron! You do come on strong.”
“You won’t believe me, but I don’t usually.” As she smiled, he touched her cheek. “Dimples. You have to have been told your dimples are pretty.”
“Maybe so,” she said. “Tell me about Spain.”
“I’ll tell you, but soon I want to show it to you. You’ll have your weekends free when you get to Asterland and I can take you to my favorite places in Spain.”
Though she merely smiled at him, his words gave her a thrill. She listened to him describe Spain and Asterland, and she answered his questions about her job. Their conversation roamed over a myriad of subjects as if they had a million things to tell each other. And all the time they talked, his fingers drifted over her hands or nape or ear or played in her hair while he watched her as if she were the first woman he had ever seen.
“Your family has lived in Texas for more than a hundred years, haven’t they?” she asked him. He nodded while his fingers stroked her nape and she barely could concentrate on what he was answering. While his index finger traced the curve of her ear, she inhaled deeply, tingles fueling her desire.
“Yep. My great-granddaddy, Pappy Black, ran cattle when he came home after the War Between the States. He amassed the Black fortune. Then my granddad, Rainy Black—I’m named for him—he was Aaron Rainier Black, was a Texas senator, so I grew up around politicians. I’m as Texas as you can get.”
“Sure, Aaron,” she said, thinking of his eastern education. His fingers trailed from her ear down over her throat and along her arm, moving to her knee. His thickly lashed eyes were filled with desire and she tingled along every nerve ending from all his feather touches. “¿Habla Español?” she asked.
“Sì. ¿Y usted?”
“Muy poco. Only what I’ve picked up from living in Royal. What other languages do you speak?”
“French, German, Arabic, Italian, Polish and Chinese. My undergraduate degree is in languages and political science and I had to learn Arabic in the military. I had to learn Polish with the State Department.”
She thought again of the vast differences in their lives. “Which colleges did you attend?”
“Harvard for an undergraduate degree,” he replied in an offhand manner. “Now tell me what you like to do? What’s fun?”
“Playing with little children, reading. I enjoy doing pencil drawings. Just simple things. I’ve taught aerobics before, but not for the past year.” Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him. Why did he have this effect on her? She felt as if sparks constantly danced between them, and her awareness level was at a maximum. With an effort she tried to concentrate on what he was saying.
They sat and talked until a grandfather clock in the hall chimed three in the morning. It seemed she had been with him five minutes, yet it seemed as if she had known him all her life.
By three he had unfastened and removed his cuff links, turned