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"Are you wearing panties under that skirt?"
"Is that what you want to know?"
Well, it was one of the things he wanted to know. "Not if you don't want to tell me." He moved with her closer to the stage, and the bright lights slid through the deep reds of her hair. The music was too loud, so he waited until they moved away from the stage and into the deeper shadows of the dance floor. "I think I need to apologize, but I'm not sure exactly what I should apologize for." He pulled back and looked at her for some clue as to how to proceed. Women could twist things until a guy didn't know which end was up. He spun her around and brought her so close to his chest that her breasts brushed the front of his shirt.
"Are you waiting for me to tell you what you should apologize for?"
That might help. He shook his head. "No." But he was absolutely not going to admit that she'd scared the shit out of him. "I know you're mad about the other night." He looked down into her face, and she lowered her gaze to his shoulder. "I know that I had a great time, but I'm just not sure you did. You said you wanted me to make love to you, and I got kind of carried away. I'm afraid I might have been too rough and hurt you."
Her brows drew together. "You didn't hurt me."
"Oh, that's good." She wasn't mad about doing it on the floor. He was relieved and pulled her closer to his chest. Again he wondered if she was wearing panties under that kilt, but he knew better than to ask. "I'm sorry I ran out like I did."
She pushed away and put a few inches between them. "You're only saying you're sorry because you think I'm going to have sex with you again."
That wasn't the only reason. Although he'd been kind of hoping she'd be open to more than dancing in the grange. He'd been thinking along the lines of a mattress tango. "I was sorry about it the night I walked out of the grocery store."
"If that's true, you wouldn't have waited so long to talk to me about it. No, now that we've had sex, you think I should just have sex with you whenever you feel like it."
He might have taken a few punches to the head during his former career, but he wasn't idiot enough to confess that sex whenever he felt like it sounded like a damn good idea. "I've been out of town. True, I could have called, but I wanted to talk to you face-to-face."
The music stopped, and she pulled out of his embrace. "And now you have."
He grasped her arm to make sure she didn't run away. "Come home with me."
"Why?"
Why? He thought the answer was obvious. "So we can talk." Among other things. Like checking out what she was wearing under that skirt.
"And end up in your bed."
"I'd love to have you naked in my bed."
"Then afterward you can kiss me on the head and tell me thanks, as if I just bagged your groceries? I don't think so."
"Not one of my finer moves." He cleared his throat and scratched the side of his neck. "I'll make it up to you."
"No."
"Excuse me," Tiffer said as he joined them. "I'm hoping the tart in the tartan will dance with me."
Rob stepped back, expecting all hell to break loose. Instead she tossed her red hair and laughed.
"I'd love to dance with you," she said and took Tiffer's arm. They moved onto the dance floor, leaving a stunned Rob to watch from the sidelines.
He'd bet his left eyeball that if he'd called her a tart, she wouldn't have laughed about it. She would have gotten that squinty look in her eyes and called him a few choice names. Then she would have puckered up and given him a cold shoulder. Or in her case, colder shoulder.
He turned away and moved through the crowd toward the bar. Maybe he was wasting his time on Kate. She was uptight
and mad most of the time. Sure he liked her, but at the moment he couldn't recall why.
"Hey there, Rob," Rose Lake called out. He stopped and watched her approach. Her blonde hair was like a shiny beacon in the dim lights of the grange. A genuine smile curved her mouth. Imagine that. An attractive woman who was actually glad to see him.
Kate was beautiful and sexy and smart, but she was not the only woman in town.
Fifteen
Easter Sunday, Stanley Caldwell stayed home from church, which he never did unless he was ill. He had a few important things to do, and he wanted to do them in private.
