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“You hoped to sweet-talk my brother into convincing me on your behalf?” Cody McNeill had put all his clothes back on, and the forbidding expression on his face made it difficult to believe he’d teased the best orgasm of her life from her just moments ago.
She remained in her seat at the conference table, unwilling to get too close to him when her fingers still ached to touch him. “I looked up who owned the property neighboring yours, since you’re an extremely difficult man to reach.”
“My work keeps me busy.”
“Since Carson McNeill was easy enough to find online—”
“No surprise there,” he muttered, reaching for his Stetson and planting it on his head.
“—I thought fate must be smiling on me when he walked past the Thirsty Cow tonight.” She could really use the rest of that wine she’d left behind. Her head throbbed with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration that Cody didn’t seem willing to give an inch.
She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, a blond wood that looked out of place in this very Western-style remodeled space.
“Except it wasn’t Carson.” His smile was a poor facsimile of the one he’d given her earlier.
Because, she realized, that hadn’t been his real smile.
An idea took hold. A dawning comprehension.
“You were pretending to be him, weren’t you?” She realized that initial exchange—when she’d first arrived in Wrangler’s—was the only time she’d seen a genuine smile from him.
Except it hadn’t been genuine at all. He had been imitating his brother. She could tell she had guessed correctly when a fleeting defensive expression crossed his face.
Indignation rose in her as she got to her feet and grabbed the map and her bag. She wouldn’t be a fool for any man again after the way her ex-boyfriend had walked out on her after surgery. She was smarter than that.
“You know, I can take some of the blame for not telling you who I was tonight.” She charged toward the door, ready to put this night—this obstinate man—behind her. “But it seems like you also played a role in this...misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” He stood between her and the door. He didn’t seem to be blocking it on purpose, he just hadn’t stepped aside yet. “Is that what you’re calling it? You came into town looking for a way to circumvent me.”
She gestured at his imposing form with a flourish. “Sort of like I am right now, since you’re still standing in my way. Apparently you take pride in being immovable.”
His jaw worked silently; maybe he was chewing over the idea.
“That’s not true,” he said finally. “But I don’t want you to storm out of here until I know you have a safe way home. And I’d also like to know where I can reach you tomorrow.”
“Seriously?” She shook her head. “I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way back to the hotel. And I can’t see why you’d need to reach me when you’ve made it clear you don’t want a single soul on your private land.”
He caught her off guard by reaching toward her and smoothing aside a curl that fell over her eyes. His touch, unexpectedly tender, reminded her of all the heat he’d roused in her before. What they’d shared had taken her breath away.
Even if he was being difficult and unreasonable now.
“First of all, I kept you out late and I want to at least walk you to your car, because that’s what a gentleman does.” His voice stirred memories of everything they’d shared, from a dance to so much more. “Second, I want to speak to you once the dust settles from tonight, because I owe you an explanation.”
He had a point. She was dealing with too much sensory overload to wade through it all now.
“And third,” he continued, opening the door that led back out to the bar, “we need to stay in touch because no matter what the doctors say about your fertility there could still be repercussions.” He spoke in a low voice, his hand splayed across her back as they made their way across the dance floor toward the exit. “And I can assure you, if there are, I won’t be a difficult man to reach.”
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