Tangled With A Texan. Yvonne Lindsay

that stupid handshake, he wanted to touch her again—and not just her hand. He wanted to see if those pert breasts he could see pushing against the fabric of her shirt would fit neatly into the palms of his hands. He wanted to trace the cord of her throat with his lips and his tongue, to taste her and inhale the very essence of her.

      Damn, but she did things to him that twisted his gut in knots without even trying. Which meant he had to be doubly careful. He was breaking every single one of his own rules by taking her out tonight. Still, it wasn’t as if he was going to marry her or anything dumb like that, he told himself. He was distracting her. Keeping her away from Jesse. She had no business with his friend, and the sooner she realized that and returned to Houston, the sooner he could get back to his normal life. Thank goodness things were a little quieter on the ranch right now. The calves had been dried out and had regained condition. His pastures were under control and his hands were onto the usual maintenance required before winter set in. He had time to spare and he’d make sure he used it well.

      “Say, you want to grab a burger or something?” Cord asked before finishing off his beer.

      “I could eat a burger,” Zoe admitted.

      “C’mon, the Royal Diner makes the best burgers in the state.”

      “That’s quite a claim,” she said, rising from her seat.

      “It’s no claim. It’s a fact,” he boasted.

      Putting his hand at the small of her back again, he guided her to the door. He liked the way she moved, all smooth and lithe, her gait a match for his own. His mind flashed in an instant to how they would move together—on a dance floor, between the sheets of his extra wide bed. Damn if he didn’t get a hard-on. He reminded himself that this wasn’t just about him. This was about keeping Zoe Warren away from his best friend.

      Cord knew Jesse had been in touch with Hamm before Hamm’s tragic death. He also knew Jesse had been fired up about the guy. If Zoe figured that out, she’d likely put two and two together and make whatever the hell she wanted out of it. There was no way Jesse had killed Hamm. He might have been mad at the guy, but violence had never been Jesse’s style, not even when truly provoked.

      They reached the truck, and he held her door for her. She brushed by so close he could smell the scent of her shampoo or whatever it was she’d used in her hair. It made him want to lean in and inhale more deeply. To touch her short black hair and see if he could tangle his fingers in it as he brought her face to his. He must have made a sound, because Zoe stopped midway getting into the truck.

      “You okay?” she asked.

      “Never better.”

      “Hmm.”

      She swung up, giving him an all-too-brief glimpse of her sweet butt showcased in dark denim. He closed the door firmly and went around to his side, all the while wondering what on earth he’d let himself in for.