The panic among Café Nirvana’s customers was also easily fixed when Holly offered them drinks on the house.
All Holly’s problems-fixed.
But the image of her after a long day of work-hair adorably messy, lipstick eaten off, sleeves shoved up and a spot of sauce on her hip-wouldn’t leave Riley’s mind.
Not so easily fixed.
What was wrong with him? She was everything he’d never wanted; she was big-city sophistication, she was snooty, manipulating. Stubborn as hell.
And yet he dreamed about her all night; long, haunting, erotic dreams. She wore peach lace, barely there panties, dammit. No wonder he woke up hot, bothered and horny as hell.
At least it was Sunday, his day off.
The physical demands of his ranch chores usually helped him wind down from a long week. They cleared his mind, and being outdoors, whether he was shoveling horse manure or riding hard and fast over the land, cleared his heart and soul, as well.
By midmorning he’d made some overdue repairs to his barn and had mended some fences on the far north side of his property. He was still hot and bothered, but at least it was from hard work this time, and not the mental images of Holly Stone, wearing nothing but those lace panties and a hungry expression.
And her expression had been hungry. Not a physical hunger, but something deeper, something that came uncomfortably close to mirroring his own yearning.
Deciding he needed food to fuel his brain instead of silly, romantic images, he headed toward the house and prayed Maria was still there. He stripped off his dirt-streaked shirt and kicked off his shoes, hoping to get on her good side by not tracking dust into the house. Maybe he could look extra pathetic and squeeze a meal out of her.
He was in luck.
He could hear her in his kitchen, muttering and swearing in Spanish. He could also hear…Holly? Wearer of peach panties?
“I just asked you how you made the gravy so creamy, you don’t have to act like it’s a federal offense not to know,” he heard Holly say in that cool, cultured voice.
Maria’s voice wasn’t so cool. “Why are you here, anyway? The sheriff won’t be happy to see you.”
“How do you know?” Holly asked. “Actually, it could go either way.”
Maria sniffed. “And as for not knowing how to make gravy, it is a crime. How could you not have learned to cook? What is wrong with your mother?”
“She’s…not exactly the cooking type.”
“No? How are you going to catch a man?”
Riley decided now was the time to enter the kitchen, before World War III could break out. He was immediately overcome by the delicious smell of the meal Maria had cooked, by the sight of the two women staring each other down over the steaming stove, and by the fact that he was straining to hear Holly’s answer as to how she was going to catch a man.
Neither woman gave him a second glance. Maria, because she never gave him a second glance-unless he was making a mess or not rinsing his plate.
Holly because…who knew.
But she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Interesting, considering she’d shown up at his house.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Not that I mind finding two women in my kitchen, especially when there’s food involved.”
“See?” Triumphant, Maria sent Holly a smirk and handed Riley a plate of food. “Ms. Stone was just going to tell me how to catch a man without basic cooking skills.”
Holly looked cool as a cucumber, until she happened to glance at him. Then she gave him a double take that had him looking down at himself, checking for toilet paper on his shoe.
He was still shirtless.
For a moment Holly’s eyes glazed over. Her mouth opened, then carefully closed. And she purposely turned away from him. “Why would I want to catch a man?” she asked Maria, her voice oddly husky.
“Well, you are not going to catch him with your sweet tongue, that is certain,” Maria said, not very kindly.
“I’m not going to catch a man at all, thank you very much.”
Well, wasn’t that interesting? He’d pegged her for a definite need-a-man-in-her-life type.
She looked at him again, quickly, but there was no mistaking the flash of uncertainty in those baby blues.
A distinctively uneasy feeling went through him. That had definitely been vulnerability he’d seen in her expression. But Holly Stone was never vulnerable.
Was she?
And if he’d been wrong about that, what else had he been wrong about?
“You are not interested in marriage?” Maria was scandalized and she stared at Riley in shock when she handed him his plate. “She’s not interested in marriage.”
“Let’s just say marriage isn’t interested in me,” Holly said, staring down at the bubbling pot on the stove. “Now, can you teach me to make this gravy as good as you, or what?”
The look on Maria’s face was priceless. She didn’t know whether to hold on to her resentment of the younger woman or be flattered. Watching her torn emotions, enjoying her speechlessness, Riley let out his first grin of the day.
“What’s so funny?” Maria demanded.
If she knew, she’d take away his food. “Nothing.”
“It is something.”
He bit his lip, but the laugh escaped anyway. “I was just wondering if I could learn that trick sometime, the trick of making you silent.”
Maria glared at him and reached for the plate she’d just handed him. “You give me that, you should go hungry.”
“You said I shouldn’t,” he said, holding tight to his food. “Remember? You were worried about me, I need my food, you said, I need the nutrition.”
“You. You are a snake.”
“A hungry snake.”
Maria let him keep his food. She looked at Holly. “Okay, maybe if you like my cooking so much, I can teach you,” she said gruffly. “My gravy is the best in the world. You can pour it over biscuits. Handmade biscuits, not some store bought ones that land like concrete in your stomach.”
Holly smiled. Not that fake one, but a real, down-to-earth smile that transformed her into…a human being.
A beautiful one.
One Riley couldn’t take his eyes from, even though he wasn’t the recipient of that smile. No doubt, she was still screaming “city” with every step she took, but somehow, over the past few days, it had stopped amusing him and started to actually get to him.
Any man would feel that way, he assured himself. She wore a short denim skirt that showed off the longest, greatest set of legs he’d ever seen, and a sun-yellow tank blouse that hugged the nicest, curviest set of-
“Are you going to stare at her all day or are you going to eat?” Maria wanted to know. “Because that dish, it’s got to-”
“Soak.” Riley cleared his throat and concentrated on his food. “I know.”
Holly was looking at him, shock on her face, as if it hadn’t occurred to her that he could like the mere sight of her. It was the second time he realized she wasn’t quite as confident as she wanted the world to believe. Her eyes were big, and strangely unguarded. Her hands clenched together and that lower lip, the carefully glossed lower lip he’d dreamed about, was being dragged against her teeth.
It reminded him of the day before, when she’d looked so uncharacteristically flustered, so absolutely…adorable. That, he realized, that had been when he’d stopped being amused by her looks, and instead, had become intrigued by Holly-the-person. He suspected she hid a lot inside, certainly most of her emotions. His sudden yearning to know what they were, and why she kept them so protected startled him.
So did the simultaneous urge to surge up, grab her, toss her on his table and follow her down. He wanted to kiss that bottom lip, wanted to nibble off every bit of the remaining gloss, then work his way over her jaw to her neck. And when he was done there, he’d work his way down, down, down-