trip with a single man, she would have been shocked speechless. But when Gram casually mentioned over breakfast that she planned to accompany Elmer on a two-day trip to Lubbock for a reunion with his military buddies, Amber didn’t raise a protest or voice a judgment.
Well, she did nearly choke on her coffee. But when she’d finally coughed it into the correct passageway, she decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Having the ranch house to herself meant that she and Jensen could finally have a private place to meet and have the talk she’d been wanting to have since their dinner at The Garden, and she was going to use the opportunity to its fullest advantage.
Once the older couple took off in Elmer’s car, their names branded on the back window, Amber reached for the telephone and, while butterflies swarmed in her tummy, placed the call she’d been dying to make all morning.
Jensen answered his cell on the second ring.
She’d barely greeted him when she blurted out, “What would you say if I told you I had the house to myself for the next two days?”
“Are you suggesting you’d like company tonight?”
“Yes. And not in the hayloft this time.”
“That sounds wonderful. I’d offer to cook you a romantic meal, but as we discussed before, my culinary expertise is somewhat limited.”
So was Amber’s, but she didn’t need to advertise that fact. Besides, she had plenty of other skills to make up for it.
“Should we meet at the Hollows Cantina?” he asked. “I’ve had a craving for carne asada.”
“Another private dinner?” she asked. Because if that’s what he wanted, they could order takeout and bring it back to the ranch.
“No, I think it’s time we dined in the main part of the restaurant with everyone else.”
What? No more clandestine meetings? As much as she looked forward to having the house to themselves later tonight, she was glad to know that he didn’t want to keep her—or their relationship, if that’s what it was—under wraps anymore. And she counted that as a good sign. A very good one.
Evidently they’d reached a turning point. Maybe it was time to level with him about Cowboy Country USA. She could tell him that she’d decided to fully commit to the Wild West Show, although she wouldn’t mention anything else. First she’d gauge his reaction to the trick riding.
When the call ended, Amber set about getting ready for the weekend by changing her bedding, setting out scented candles in her room and choosing some romantic CDs to have ready for Jensen’s arrival later that night.
Then she took the last two hours to fuss with her appearance—taking a bubble bath, doing her hair and choosing just the right outfit to wear. There’d be no jeans or flannel this evening.
Now, as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she studied the low neck of her silky top, one she’d gotten as a gift but had never worn. She wondered if she’d gone a little overboard. After all, it wasn’t as if she and Jensen were meeting at a fancy restaurant out of town or in a dark movie theater.
They were going to the most popular restaurant in town—and on a Friday night. Everyone would see them together and, with her decked out in such obvious dating attire...well, it would pretty much be a coming-out party.
She glanced at the swell of flesh peeking out between the low swoop of her blouse. She hoped she’d chosen something that was enticing enough to remind Jensen of what she had planned for the rest of the evening, but not risqué enough to make her look like a truck-stop floozy.
When she had spent as much time as she dared, she reached for the perfume she favored but rarely used and applied a dab, wondering if Jensen would appreciate her efforts.
Or would he want her to cover up? The straitlaced Brit sure seemed to have a bit of a jealous side. Or had she read him wrong?
He hadn’t seemed to mind flaunting other women on his arm. So why her? Was it jealousy or embarrassment?
She shook off the insecurity. Either way, when she told him about Cowboy Country USA, she wouldn’t mention the part about the ad campaign. It didn’t take a crystal ball to know how the proper gentleman would feel about that, especially if the press got wind of it.
But even though Jensen would be long gone by the time Amber had to start posing for photographs in that saloon-girl costume, she’d keep that little secret to herself.
She took one last glance at herself in her mirror.
The clock was ticking. And she wasn’t just talking about this evening and the need to stop primping so she could get on the road.
In a few short weeks Jensen would be leaving for London. And who knew how many more times they’d have to spend together?
For that reason, she would pull out all the stops tonight.
* * *
Jensen arrived at the Hollows Cantina before Amber and cursed the bloody paparazzi for his reluctance to pick her up and take her on a proper date.
Rachel Robinson, the hostess, greeted him and asked if he would prefer his usual table in the back corner. But Jensen had decided not to keep Amber or their relationship hidden anymore.
Besides, after the knowing smile Quinn had flashed at him when he’d handed him the car keys, their secret was bound to get out eventually. And maybe, somewhere deep inside, Jensen actually wanted it to. So he’d told Rachel to reserve the table in the middle of restaurant and headed to the bar to wait for Amber.
He’d just placed a drink order when a cowboy turned toward the entrance, broke into a broad grin and gave a slow wolf whistle. Several other men at the bar, along with Jensen, followed his gaze and spotted Amber sashaying into the cantina.
The slinky black blouse she wore wasn’t any less revealing than that damn saloon-girl costume. And her jeans fit her like a pair of denim gloves, leaving very little to the imagination when it came to those shapely, not-so-hidden legs underneath.
He stood, fighting the red-hot pulse at the side of his neck. He told himself that the mooning cowpokes in this place were used to seeing Amber dressed in working clothes and that they were merely surprised by the change in her appearance. But the woman was as sexy as she was unpredictable, and he was tempted to whisk her away to someplace private—and not just so he could keep her hidden, but so he could have her all to himself.
She spotted him straightaway because she headed for the bar.
“Hello,” she said as she slid onto the stool he pulled out for her.
As if just now realizing that everyone—even the women who’d gathered in the bar—were studying the two of them, she asked, “What’re they staring at?”
“You, my dear.” From where he stood, he had a clear vantage point of the swell of her breasts, which he’d caressed a few nights before. And he forced himself to look away for fear his words would stall in his throat.
She ran a hand through her glossy hair, as though taming her long and loose locks could downplay how magnificent she looked. “Am I overdressed?”
“Not at all. You’re stunning.” He took his seat and handed her the margarita he’d ordered for her—the exact one she’d been drinking the night she’d come with Mr. Murdock and her grandmother.
She looked at the delicate silver-and-turquoise watch on her wrist. “Are they still having the two-for-one happy hour special?”
Did she think he was a tightwad? He’d only been humoring Mr. Murdock before.
“I have no idea what time it is—or if there are any specials. I just thought this was your drink of preference. Did I get it wrong?”
“No, this is fine.” She took a sip. “In fact, it’s just what I need to calm my nerves.”
“Amber