Tempting The Texan

Even though she was standing between him and what he needed to do, he couldn’t help thinking that it was damned good to see her again. Too good. He should have been past this, Kellan told himself.

He’d stayed away from her deliberately for years, because being close to her and not having her would have killed him. Hell, she was part of the reason he’d moved to Nashville. But even distance from her hadn’t been enough to wipe away the memory of her. She’d still been with him. In his dreams. In those quiet, waking moments when he didn’t have enough to occupy his thoughts.

And every time she popped into his mind—way too often—he shut it down fast. He spent empty nights with other women telling himself that sex with them was just as good as it had been with Irina. Lies he wanted to believe because they made it all that much easier.

But standing here, with her just out of arm’s reach, those lies rushed back to bite him in the ass. So naturally, he buried what he was feeling beneath the anger still riding him since the will reading.

“Since when are you Miranda’s friend?” he asked. “You’re really ready to stand with her against me?”

“And how do I owe loyalty to you? You disappeared, Kellan.”

“I had to.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She entered the room but walked a wide path around him to do it. She dropped onto a corner of the couch, curled her legs up beneath her and tipped her head to one side to look up at him. “She’s Buck’s guest.”

“Buck’s dead.”

Emotion flashed briefly in her eyes. “I know. But this is his home—”

“And mine,” he added.

“Not for years,” she reminded him. “You walked away, Kellan. From your home. From your family. From Buck. From me.”

And there it was. The past was in the room with them, with its hungry, snapping jaws, not really caring whom it bit into, just wanting the pain. The blood.

He’d known that the minute they saw each other again, they’d have to relive this. He’d have to look at old decisions and would be forced to defend them. He didn’t know that he could.

“I had to leave.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

Irina looked up at the man around whom she’d once built ridiculous dreams. The oldest son of the man she’d worked for—the man she owed so much. Buck had rescued her. Given her a chance she might never have had otherwise. She’d come to this house broken, to work as a maid, to go to school, to rebuild a life that had been shattered.

Kellan was the man who had touched her in so many ways, he’d left her breathless. She’d trusted him, in spite of everything she’d already been through. She’d believed in him when she shouldn’t have. And then, he’d simply left her.

Seven years ago, they’d had a week together. He’d been wounded. She’d been hurt. And yet, somehow, for that one week, they’d reached beyond themselves and found something she had believed was magical. Stolen time, stolen passion and her silly dreams of something more. Then it was over and she was broken again.

Irina wouldn’t let it happen this time. Wouldn’t let her heart overrun her mind. But even as she thought it, she knew that the reason she’d dropped onto the brown leather sofa was because Kellan still made her legs weak. Her heartbeat was racing and there were tingles of expectation, anticipation, at the core of her. It seemed her body didn’t care what her mind had to say. It only wanted.

Irina looked up at him and deliberately hid everything she was feeling.

“Yes, you had to leave. You said as much to me. Seven years ago.” The leather felt cold and that chill was seeping inside her. “You said a lot of things. I remember.”

Kellan nodded. “Yeah, I do, too. I didn’t want to hurt you, Irina.”

Her gaze locked on him and she drew a long, shallow breath. Irina didn’t want to talk about any of it, either. Didn’t want to remember the sound of his voice saying, I can’t be what you want. Or, This isn’t real, Irina. It can’t be. I won’t let it be. So she swallowed hard and hid what she was feeling. “You may not have wanted to, but you did. Still, that’s not why you’re here now, is it?”

“No,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “It’s not.” He braced his feed wide apart, as if preparing for a battle. “Tell me this. How long is Miranda staying in Royal?”

She shrugged as if indifferent. “I don’t really know. She’s made no plans to leave as far as I know.”

“Of course she hasn’t,” he muttered, pushing one hand through his short, neat hair. “Why would she? Has the run of this house, all the money Buck left her and plenty of time to cause more trouble.”

Miranda had always seemed like a nice woman to Irina. In fact, they’d bonded some over a shared past of heartbreak and mistrust. And seeing how Buck’s grown children had treated Miranda had guaranteed that Irina would stand up for her. Since she’d once been an underdog herself, she would always stand up for people she thought were being bullied.

“What exactly, apart from her marrying and divorcing your father,” Irina asked, “do you have against her?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“No.” Love died. Marriages ended. She’d lived it herself and usually there was more than one person to blame for it.

“It is for me,” he countered. “She’s got no rights here as far as I’m concerned.”

Shaking her head, Irina watched him. “Then it’s good it’s not up to you.”

“What the hell, Irina? I don’t understand this,” he admitted. “You were always more loyal to Buck than he deserved, so why would you switch that loyalty to Miranda?”

“And you were always harder on Buck than he deserved. Your father was more than you think he was.”

“I don’t believe it,” he snapped. “And that doesn’t answer the question. Why are you being so damn protective of Miranda of all people?”

Because, Irina thought, she understood Buck’s ex-wife. She knew what it was to be called a gold digger. Knew what it was to love and lose. Knew how hard it was to start over. To rebuild your life. How could Irina not stand by Miranda, when Buck had stood by her?

“It was your father’s fortune to do with as he pleased. Why do you get to say that he can’t leave Miranda everything?” Forcing herself to her feet, Irina locked her traitorous knees so they wouldn’t wobble on her again and tipped her head back to stare up at him. Looking into those lake-blue eyes of his sent tendrils of heat spiraling through her, but Irina did her best to ignore them. “I am being loyal to Buck. To his wishes.”

He slowly shook his head and watched her curiously. “What the hell did he ever do for you?”

Everything, she thought but didn’t say. Buckley Blackwood had played guardian angel to a lot of people and he’d insisted on remaining anonymous. So no one—not even his children—knew what a good man he really had been. But Irina would never forget.

“That’s none of your business, Kellan. You walked away. You don’t get to show up seven years later and demand answers to anything.”

He huffed out a breath and took a step closer. Irina steeled herself because she could smell his cologne. That same wild, spicy scent that seemed to chase her through sleepless nights. His jaw was clenched, his eyes snapping with sparks of frustration, and tension practically radiated from him in thick waves.

She felt that same tension pulsing inside her and she hated it. He’d once had so much power over her. One look from him turned her body into a molten puddle of need. One touch and she was burning. Orgasms with Kellan were more than she would have thought possible.

But strangely, what she missed most was lying in the circle of his arms, darkness all around them, while they talked and laughed together. That closeness, that intimacy, had meant everything to her and had hurt her the most when it was gone.

“I used to admire that hard head of yours,” he said, his voice lower, more intimate.

Now it was more than her knees that were feeling weak. Everything in her yearned. A slow burn started deep inside and bubbled in her bloodstream. This was dangerous. A temptation to go back rather than forward. She’d fought hard to reclaim her life, her heart, her mind after Kellan left. Irina couldn’t let herself be swept into another temporary liaison. And with Kellan, she knew it would be nothing but temporary.

“Kellan…” Warning? Invitation? Even Irina didn’t know for sure.

“You’re still so damn beautiful,” he murmured.

And he was still enticing.

“I think I’m going to kiss you,” he said, one eyebrow quirking. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.