Chapter Twelve
Harlan was out of the office most of the following day, which Savannah thought was probably a good thing. Her mind wasn’t exactly on the job. Instead she kept returning to everything that had happened yesterday, both with her father and with Harlan.
She and Harlan had loved each other. Yes, they’d been young. Would their relationship have died a natural death? Possibly. But they were never given the chance to find out. Her father had played God and broken them up. Finally, she decided not to let her father mess up her shot at a second chance with Harlan. Once was plenty.
Tonight Harlan was taking her to dinner at Baron’s Steakhouse.
She changed five times before finally choosing a short, white cowl-neck, long-sleeved sweater dress and black thigh-high suede boots. The outfit was brand new and tonight seemed the perfect night to wear it.
Savannah had a feeling tonight would be special. All she had to do was think about dinner at the pizza place the night before.
What do you want, Harlan?
What I’ve always wanted. You.
Her heart had done somersaults.
Tonight would be about the two of them. Their first official date. Back when they were young they’d always had to be so careful because she was afraid if her fa—
Stop it, Savannah. Don’t think about that. Tonight is about you and Harlan. Take your chance. You’ve both earned it.
There goes that damned voice again, Savannah thought. Lots of people had thoughts—in essence talking to themselves silently. That was not what this was.
No. This is some strange person talking in my head.
She answered the knock on her door and opened it to Harlan. “Hi.” She stood aside and let him in. He wore jeans and an open leather bomber jacket over a button-down blue dress shirt. His hair was combed, not messy from him jamming his fingers through it, like he often did. He looked good. Really, really good. Then she noticed he hadn’t said a word and instead was staring at her. “Harlan, is something wrong?”
“Wrong? No. Sorry, I had to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.”
Laughing, she said, “Thanks. I think.”
“You look beautiful. But there’s a problem.”
“What’s that?”
He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “At dinner I won’t be able to think about anything but when I get to kiss you again.”
She arched an eyebrow and slid her hands up his chest to put her arms around his neck. “Can’t have that.”
He smiled and kissed her. Drew her close with one hand on her back and one hand buried in her hair.
Hot. Sweet. Bone-melting. A thrust and parry of tongues that had her nipples tightening and the dull ache between her legs roaring to full throttle. She’d kissed him the morning after the ball, and again last night. But this kiss sizzled, leaving her primed and ready to rip off her clothes and his. This kiss said he wanted to take her to bed and do amazing things to her. And oh, my, God, she wanted him to.
Slowly, they broke the kiss. Stared silently at each other. Then they both smiled.
“So, did it help?” Savannah asked.
“The opposite,” he said. “Now I’m going to be thinking about kissing you even more than I was before.”
“I have a confession. I’ll be thinking about it too.”
Harlan groaned. “Not helping, Savannah.”
She laughed and patted his cheek.
Baron’s was one of the nicest restaurants in town, originally established by Baron Kelly himself. Kelly sold the place in short order, but the name stuck. Today Baron’s was owned by a cousin of the Kellys and his wife, Jasper and Judy Lang.
It was the picture of a Texas steakhouse with wooden chairs with red leather seats, red leather booths and an old-fashioned mahogany bar that ran the length of the main room. The bar wasn’t quite as distinctive as the one at Booze’s Place, but it was beautiful and the restaurant was a good bit newer. Hanging on the walls were old, faded photos of cowboys and cowgirls, horses, cattle, and dogs. One photo showed a man asleep on a hay bale in a barn, with several cats sleeping beside or on top of him. There were pictures of the Kelly clan of each generation.
There was a picture of Booze Kelly and his beautiful wife, Marguerite, surrounded by Booze’s famous whiskey barrels. One of Baron and Elsa, all dressed up in front of the new steakhouse. Wildcatter and Bianca were pictured in front of Wildcatter’s first oil well. There was even a picture of Boots Kelly and his ex-wife, Paloma, in front of the original Kelly Boots factory.
There were photos of the townspeople in various dress styles, from the eighteen-nineties onward. In a prominent place was a large picture of the original Whiskey River Ladies Relief Society, founded in the early nineteen-hundreds by Drew Harwood’s mother.
Aside from the photos, spurs, lariats, cowboy hats and branding irons graced the walls. It was dark, quiet, and elegant in a western way. The restaurant was well known for its romantic ambience as well as delicious food.
“You know this is known as one of the most, if not the most, romantic places in town, right?”
Harlan shot her a wicked grin. “I might have heard that a time or two.”
The hostess seated them in an out-of-the-way corner booth, gave them menus and told them the waiter would be with them shortly. A few moments later Judy Lang stopped at their table. “Harlan, I heard you were in town.”
Harlan got up and they hugged each other enthusiastically. “It’s so good to see you. How long are you here for?”
“I’m here for good.”
“You’re kidding? Really?”
Harlan laughed. “You know Travis and Laurel have been after me to move back for a long time now.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think you’d ever listen.” Judy turned to Savannah. “Hi, Savannah. I didn’t mean to ignore you. How are you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Doing well.” They talked for a bit and then Judy said, “Here’s your waiter. I’ll leave you to your dinner. Harlan, give Alan a call. He has big news, but I’ll let him tell you.”
“Who’s Alan?” Savannah asked after the waiter left with their drink order.
“Her oldest son. He’s my godson.” He glanced at his menu and said, “I didn’t realize you and Judy knew each other.”
“It’s Whiskey River,” she reminded him. “Besides, we’re both in the WOWR, but we don’t really know each other that well. Now that you mention it, I do remember she has kids.”
The waiter brought their drinks, red wine for Savannah and a beer for Harlan, and took their order. Steaks for both of them, naturally. With all the fixings—crusty French bread, loaded baked potatoes, creamed spinach, and a choice of several mouth-watering desserts.
Harlan raised his glass. “To second chances.”
She tapped her glass to his. “Second chances,” she echoed.
*
“I’m so excited about next week,” Savannah said as they walked back to his apartment.
Since Wildcat Tower was just across the square from Baron’s, after he picked up Savannah, Harlan had parked in the parking garage rather than on the street.
“What’s next week?” Had he forgotten something? He knew it wasn’t her birthday. Looking shocked, she stopped walking. “Christmas on the Square, of course.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s next week? I hadn’t thought about it.” They started walking again.
“Well, I have. Christmas on the Square is so much fun. I love Christmas.”
“I remember,” he said. “The first time I kissed you was under the mistletoe at a Christmas party.”
“You remember our first kiss?” she said, sounding surprised and pleased. “I didn’t think guys remembered things like that. It was a long time ago.”
He stopped, beneath a streetlight this time, and put his hand beneath her chin, tipping up her face. Her cheeks were red and so were her lips. Her eyes sparkled, blue and clear as a cloudless Texas sky. She wore a fuzzy white coat buttoned up to her neck, but her head was bare. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly. “There’s no way I’d forget finally getting to kiss the girl I’d been dreaming about for two years.”
“Two years? Really?”
“Absolutely.”
Her lips curved upward in a mischievous smile. “I’ll tell you a secret,” she said, hooking her arm through his and beginning to walk again. “I arranged it so that I’d be under that mistletoe at the same time you walked through that door.”
“You’ve got it wrong. I arranged that mistletoe. I couldn’t think of any other way I could kiss you without you clobbering me.” They reached the building and he opened the door, letting Savannah go in ahead of him.
“I wouldn’t have clobbered you,” Savannah said with a laugh. “Far from it. I was fascinated with you. You were one of the ‘bad boys from the Barrels.’ I couldn’t believe you were interested in me.”
“Other way around. You were way out of my league.”
“Did you really think that?”
“Hell, yes. Why are you surprised? I was a kid from the Barrels and you were the banker’s daughter. I figured you just wanted a taste of the wild side.”
“I’ll admit that was part of the fascination. At least until we started talking and I realized that beneath that macho, bad boy exterior was a really sweet guy.”
That wasn’t how he’d have described his younger self, but he let her keep her illusions. Harlan let them into his apartment and tossed his keys on a small table. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m good. But you go ahead.”
“I’m good too.” He helped her off with her coat and hung it on the coat rack. “I’ll put on some music. Any requests?”
“Surprise me.”
He chose a CD by Jamie Templeton, Whiskey River’s local boy turned rock star. River Song, one of his favorites.
“Great choice,” she said. “I love Jamie Templeton’s music.” She walked over to the window and stood with her back to him, looking out. With her short, white dress and her thigh-high black boots she looked beautiful and very, very sexy. He wanted her so badly, wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her until neither of them could move. But he still wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted or if she was ready for that step.
She turned around, smiling when she caught him staring at her—thinking he could have eaten her alive. “No need to ask what’s on your mind.”
“I’ve been told I have a poker face.”
“Not right now, you don’t,” she said, laughing.
He stayed where he was, a few feet away, not trusting himself to get too close to her. “I didn’t come back expecting we could be together again. I didn’t see any way you’d forgive me and I wasn’t planning on telling you the truth about what happened. Besides, I figured it had been fourteen years. We’d both moved on. Gotten married.”
“And divorced,” she remarked.
“That too. I thought I’d be fine with working with you, maybe we could even be friends.” He half-laughed. “Then at the ball, I turned around and there you were.”
“And?”
He shook his head. “Boom.”
“Boom?”
“Yeah, boom,” he confirmed. “You stood there in that red dress looking so beautiful, like a fantasy come to life. You blew me away. I damn near swallowed my tongue.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” she said skeptically. “You acted all cool and calm. You swept me out on the dance floor immediately.”
“I had the brilliant idea that if I got close to you, talked to you just like I would have any beautiful woman, then I’d see my reaction had just been surprise. That yes, you were gorgeous but I could handle it.”
Savannah walked over to him and placed her palm on his chest. “How did that work out for you?”
“Not too well. I decided to leave and we got trapped in the coatroom and by then it was all over.” He drew her into his arms, bent his head down to speak softly in her ear. “I knew I was going to do everything I could to have another chance with you.”
He kissed her then, as he’d wanted to do almost from the moment he saw her again. She melted into him, her arms going around his neck, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, and she kissed him back with an abandon he hadn’t expected. One he found sexy as hell.
He ran his tongue over her teeth, stroked it inside her mouth to meet with hers, tangle and taste. Slipping his hands beneath her butt, he pulled his mouth from hers long enough to say, “Wrap your legs around me,” and boost her up. And discovered she wore a thong. He caressed her bare cheeks, giving silent thanks to the inventor of thongs.
The couch was close so he walked there with her and sat down. With her legs spread on either side of him, her sex rubbed against his cock and made him so crazy he had to stop himself from shredding her panties and burying himself inside her.
Savannah slipped her hands beneath his sweater, pushing it up, urging him to take it off. Harlan yanked it off over his head, then pulled off his T-shirt. She reached down to the hem of her dress and began pulling it up, slowly. When her dress reached her bra he helped her get it the rest of the way off and fling it aside.
He traced a finger over her sheer, flesh-colored, lacy bra. Watched her nipple pearl beneath the fabric before doing the same to her other breast. She groaned and reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, thrusting her breasts out as she did so.
He slipped the straps down her arms and pulled the fabric away. Savannah took it off the rest of the way and tossed it aside.
Her skin was milky white, her nipples dusky rose, full and lush and absolute perfection. Covering her breasts with his hands, he caressed and tweaked her nipples until they stiffened even more. Savannah groaned and rubbed herself against him.
“That’s it.” Harlan got up, turning Savannah around so he could carry her in his arms into the bedroom. She kissed his neck, his mouth, wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself against him.
Once in the bedroom he put her on the bed and stepped back, undoing his jeans and pushing them and his boxers off. Reaching into the bedside table drawer, he pulled out a condom and tossed it on the tabletop.
Savannah lay on her back in the middle of his bed. Her dark hair tousled from his hands, her mouth rosy and inviting from his kisses, wearing nothing but a tiny lacy thong and thigh-high black boots.
“Harlan? Are you okay?”
He realized he’d been standing stock-still and staring at her. “I was just thinking—Oh, hell, I wasn’t thinking at all. You short-circuited my brain.”
The smile she gave him was pure sex and full of promise.