Hot Westmoreland Nights (8 page)

She leaned over and placed her glass of wine on the coffee table when she heard her cell phone go off. She pulled it out of her skirt pocket and smiled when she saw the call was from her father.

“Dad, how are you?”

“I’m doing fine. Just where the heck are you, Chloe Lynn?”

She chuckled. Nobody but her father called her by her first and middle names. Only after she’d finished college and started her business did she appreciate what an outstanding man and wonderful person her father was. He had entered politics when she had been in her last year of high school and now he was in his third term as Senator and swore it was the last, but she knew better.

He had always encouraged her to do whatever it was in life that she wanted to do and not live under his shadow as the “senator’s daughter.” She had gone to the college she had wanted to attend and had gotten the degree in just what she’d wanted. The only thing he flexed his muscles about was his belief in helping others during her summers. In the end she’d never regretted doing so.

“I’m in Denver for now.”

“And when will you be coming home?”

She raised a brow. Home for her had always been Tampa,
but for her father since becoming Senator Jamison Burton, he’d stayed in D.C. most of the time. “Not sure when I’ll be back in Tampa. Why? What’s going on?”

He paused and then said, “I intend to ask Stephanie to marry me tonight, and was hoping you would be here in case she said yes, so we can all celebrate.”

Chloe’s smile widened. Her father had been dating Circuit Court of Appeals judge Stephanie Wilcox. A fifty-something divorced mother of a son and a daughter in their twenties, her father and Stephanie had been dating for a few years and Chloe had wondered when he would consider asking the woman to share his life.

“That’s wonderful, Dad. Congratulations. I’m sorry I won’t be there to celebrate, but please make sure you let Stephanie know how happy I am for both of you.”

Ten minutes later she was still smiling when she slipped her phone back into her skirt pocket. Finally, her father was about to commit his life to something other than politics and she was happy about it. He had remained a widower and she had often wondered why, when he would be such a good catch for someone. But she’d heard over the years from both sets of grandparents how much he’d loved her mother and he hadn’t wanted to give his heart to another woman. It had taken Stephanie three years, but she had done what some would have thought as impossible.

“After all the work that went into feeding my men breakfast and lunch you have a reason to smile?”

Startled, Chloe inclined her head to glance across the room. She hadn’t heard the door open and now Ramsey was standing in the doorway and looking at her.

Refusing to be rattled, she reached for her glass of wine and took a sip, not sure how she would answer his question. There
was no way she could share her father’s good news on the risk that he might ask questions she didn’t want to answer. All he would have to do is to go on the Internet and do a search on her father to discover she was his daughter and exactly what she did for a living.

“That’s not what the smile is for,” she decided to say. “I just received a call from a friend to say he was asking his girl to marry him tonight. And I’m happy for both of them.”

She watched as he crossed the room to sit in the chair across from the sofa. She tried not to stare and was surprised he was giving her the time of day when it was obvious he’d been avoiding her earlier, especially after their kiss.

“I guess getting married would make some folks happy,” he said.

She took another sip of her wine while holding his gaze, trying not to dwell on just how good he looked while he leaned back in the chair with muscled shoulders, hard jeans-clad thighs and long legs stretched to where his booted feet touched a portion of the coffee table. She wondered if he realized he was still wearing his Stetson. “Um. But I take it that you’re not one of them,” she replied.

“Nope, I wouldn’t be one of them. I intend to be a single man for the rest of my days.”

She considered his words. “So, you’re one of those men who have a problem with matrimony? Who thinks marriage isn’t a big deal?”

He lifted a brow. “And you’re one of those women who thinks that it is?”

“I asked you first.”

Yes, she had, Ramsey thought. His first inclination was to ignore the question. Move on to something else. And a part of him wondered what the hell he was doing here, sitting
across from her at all. Especially because he’d taken great pains to make sure their paths didn’t cross after his brothers and cousin had left. He hadn’t liked the way Zane, Derringer and Jason’s thoughts had been going. He would like to think he had put their false assumptions to rest, but he knew them well enough to know that was too much to hope for.

“Take your time if you need to gather your thoughts,” Chloe said.

Ramsey kept his gaze trained on her. Unwavering. He couldn’t give her a forced smile even if he’d wanted to because staying single was a serious topic with him. And it wasn’t that he had a problem with matrimony per se, after the last fiasco of a wedding, he figured there was not a woman alive who would be able to get him back in a church for the sole purpose of getting hitched. No, he liked his single life just fine. He would think after dealing with the likes of an ex-boyfriend like Daren, so would she.

He continued to look at her, recalled her statement about gathering his thoughts and figured she would get along with his sisters easily because she seemed to have a smart mouth like them. That thought made his gaze shift to her lips.

He then swallowed, wishing he hadn’t gone there with her mouth, especially because he knew how it tasted. And then there had been her response to him. He could do bodily harm to his kinfolk for their untimely interruption.

“I don’t need to gather my thoughts,” he finally said. Otherwise he would be tempted to cross the room and taste her again. “Raphael Westmoreland married enough for all of us.”

She lifted a brow. “Raphael Westmoreland?”

“Yes, my great-grandfather. Rather recently we discovered he had a slew of wives. We also discovered he had a twin.”

Evidently that sparked her interest, and her movement on the sofa sparked his. She slid closer to the edge and when she leaned forward her blouse gaped open a little, but enough to see some cleavage, as well as the thin pink fabric of her bra. Her skin looked velvety smooth, soft and a beautiful brown. He could imagine removing her bra and then lavishing her breasts with hot kisses, then taking his tongue and—

“Well?”

He blinked, reluctantly shifted his gaze from her chest to her eyes. They were bright. Inquiring. Intrigued. Apparently stuff about long-lost relatives interested her like it did the others in his family. Once they had become acquainted with the Atlanta Westmorelands, who were descendants of his great-grandfather’s twin brother Reginald, Dillon had been eager to find out all that he could. His search to uncover the truth had led him to his wife Pamela. So in a way something good had come of it.

“Well, what?” he asked, deciding to play along just for the hell of it. Irritate her a bit. He liked the way her lips curved in a frown when she was aggravated about something. In addition to that, he liked her sexy pose on the sofa and the eager look on her face to find out more. Now if he could only get her out of wearing those damn leggings.

The glare she gave him denoted she was getting impatient, downright annoyed, at the length of time it was taking for him to tell her what she wanted to know. “Tell me some more about your great-grandfather’s twin,” she said with barely restrained impatience.

He could and would do so if it meant keeping her mind occupied while he continued to check her out. “We discovered over a year ago that our great-grandfather Raphael had a twin by the name of Reginald.”

“And none of you had any idea?”

“No. Great-Grampa Raphael led everyone to believe he’d been born the only child. One of the Atlanta Westmorelands’ genealogy search provided proof that Raphael and Reginald were twins and that Raphael had been considered the black sheep of the family after running off with a married woman. He finally settled here in Denver five wives later.”

Ramsey paused when he felt a rush of sensations hammer his veins when Chloe shifted her body on the sofa once again and his gaze moved to her feet. They were bare and her toes were painted a prissy pink. When had seeing painted toes on a woman become so erotic?

He found it an effort to move his gaze from her feet back to her face, especially when his eyes had to pass over her chest. Of course it lingered awhile before moving on. When he finally settled on her eyes he saw hers were narrowed. “I’m sure there is more to this story,” she said.

He nodded. “Of course and maybe one day I’ll tell you the rest.”

He had no idea why he’d said that. There wouldn’t be a “one day” where they were concerned. Although he had changed his mind about calling the agency for another cook, he needed to keep his guard up around her. Yet here he was, misleading her into thinking he would share anything else about his family with her.

He eased out of his chair, deciding he’d said enough and had stayed in here with her longer than he’d needed to. Definitely longer than he should have. It then occurred to him he was still wearing his hat. Damn.

He took it off his head thinking the woman had a way of making him not think straight and that wasn’t a good thing. “I’m taking a shower and going out to grab something for
dinner,” he said, and then wondered why on earth was he telling her his plans. His comings and goings were really none of her business.

He moved to leave the room and head upstairs, but her words stopped him. “I prepared dinner for you, Ramsey.”

He stopped, turned and looked over at her. She was only getting paid to fix breakfast and lunch because his men usually ate dinner at their own homes with their families. Usually he dined at Penney’s Diner a few miles down the road or with one of his family members.

“You didn’t have to do that, Chloe.”

“I know, but I wanted to because I need to eat, too,” she replied, as if that explained things.

“Suit yourself,” he said, knowing he sounded totally nonchalant and ungrateful when he was anything but. After spending practically her entire day in the kitchen preparing breakfast and lunch for his men, she had gone out of her way to prepare him dinner when she really didn’t have to do it.

He turned in the direction of the kitchen and when he got to the edge of the room, he paused and then turned back around. She was staring into space as if she was trying to figure out in her own mind what had happened next with Raphael Westmoreland. She had moved from her earlier pose and was now curled up in the corner of his sofa, and every so often after taking a sip of wine her tongue would dart out to lick her top lip as if savoring the taste. Ramsey felt his body tighten with desire as he watched her.

“Chloe?”

She looked over at him and he could tell from her expression she was surprised to see him still standing there. “Yes?”

“Thanks for dinner.” He then turned and kept walking toward the kitchen.

Hours later with his jaw clamped together tight, Ramsey walked the floor in his bedroom. This would be another night where he would not be getting any sleep and there was no excuse for it, and he needed his rest. The next two weeks of shearing would be both mind- and body-consuming if today was an example of what was to come.

At least his men had been excited about breakfast and lunch and had kept a steady conversation about both most of the day. Chloe’s choice of food was a big hit and at quitting time today the men had been speculating on what they would be getting tomorrow for breakfast. Chloe was a definite asset to his ranch.

Ramsey moved over to the window to look out, not liking what he was thinking. She had done it again, he thought in disgust. The dinner she’d prepared for him had been the best he’d ever eaten, so much in fact that he’d been tempted to lick the plate. He had sat in the kitchen alone, not bothering to eat at the table, but had taken a stool at the breakfast bar instead.

Consuming his meal in silence he had been well aware of the moment she had come into the kitchen to wash out her wine glass. Mumbling a good-night, she had quickly left to head up the stairs. He had watched her go. Neither of them had mentioned anything about the kiss they’d shared earlier that day, and that was fine with him because his brothers and cousin had said enough. Not surprisingly, word of the kiss had reached Dillon and Callum. At least none of his sisters knew about it. Had they been privy to such information, they would have called by now, or even worse, just showed up to introduce themselves.

Hold up. Time out
. He wasn’t ready for something like that to happen, especially if his sisters assumed the wrong thing
like Zane, Derringer and Jason had. But knowing Megan, Gemma and Bailey like he did, there was no doubt in his mind that they would have taken things further by trying to intentionally stir interest even if there wasn’t any there.

At least he could safely say from his conversation with Chloe earlier that she was not a woman on the run as Callum had speculated. Other than what she’d told him about her ex-boyfriend, he still hadn’t gotten her to talk a lot about herself, although she was trying to get all in his business about good old Raphael.

He shook his head. Other than knowing she was a damn good cook, she’d had an idiot of an ex-boyfriend, and that she had a friend who was getting married, he didn’t know a lot about her. But then maybe the less he knew the better. She was doing a good job at what she had been hired to do.

Although he was losing sleep in the process.

But then, his inability to sleep and walking the floors at night was not her problem. He had to be the one who garnered more control. He had to stop the flow of sexual tension between them. But how? Imagining her with a sack over her head whenever he saw her wouldn’t work because he would still be able to see her body. And there was no way he could look at all those curves without a degree of lust filling his head.