Runaway Lone Star Bride. Cathy Gillen Thacker

name, an expensive leather duffel with his initials and a laptop bag.

      He grinned when he saw the double place-setting at the kitchen island. “Expecting company or is that for me?”

      “It’s for us,” she corrected wearily, then aware of the potential implications of that, quickly wished she hadn’t. “And you are ‘company’ to me, in the strictest sense of the word.”

      She meant to reassure him. Put the mood back in the platonic-to-a-fault category. Instead, to her frustration, her words had the opposite effect. His dark brown eyes lit up the same way they had when she’d mentioned Dr. Ruth instead of Dr. Phil. He invaded her space, wrapping both hands around her spine. “Sure about that?”

      He pressed lightly, bringing her all the way against him. Now she was the one on fire with desire. Her pulse pounding, Maggie worked to get air into her lungs. “Hart...”

      “Can’t help it, Maggie,” he said huskily, guiding her closer still. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since the first time I saw you. And damned if I’m not going to do just that.”