It's in His Touch (12 page)

Angelique’s heart hit her feet like a brick. Everyone in the room stared at her expectantly. “Sure. Sounds like a hoot.”

Cotton Eyed Joe’s on a Saturday night in October was Angelique’s worst nightmare. The place was decked out with obnoxious pink ribbons. The napkins were pink. The waitstaff wore pink. Pink martinis littered every table. A handful of pink cowboy hats and pink cowboy boots even made an appearance. When the offending color whizzed past Angelique’s table from the dance floor, she whistled to the server and ordered a second beer before she’d finished the first.

Uh-huh.
The pink craze that settled over every community in America this time of year was enough to drive her to two-fisted drinking.

She surveyed the room.
Everyone
wore a tacky pink ribbon. Everyone except Angelique. Even her parents and Nona had coughed up money for a ribbon, ignoring Angelique’s protests. Angelique sighed. Mom and Nona had been through the surgeries, too. Why couldn’t they see that a pink ribbon didn’t show support? It branded them a victim. Weak. Unable to move on. Unwilling to climb out of the ditch into which the disease pushed its unsuspecting and undeserving prey.

While Mom and Dad filled her in on the Barbetta family gossip, Kimberly bopped to country and western music. Well, more like her girls bounced, which garnered several ogles from the male patrons. Nona sat at a separate table with her new gentleman friend.

Every last boot-wearing, cowboy-hat-tipping, C&W-dancing person at Joe’s was
happy
to be part of the festivities. Everyone but Angelique. She was ready to chug both beers and get out of Tombstone to avoid both the color pink and another confrontation with Doc Holloway. She almost snorted.

Oy vey. Maybe she should order a third beer, because all this frenzy over the color pink was making her crazy. Who picked that awful color anyway? Why not chartreuse?

Angelique drew on her mug, a pull starting low in her belly when Blake walked through the front door. His gaze zeroed in on her just as quickly, even through the boisterous crowd of patrons. All brooding and sexy, his eyes turned to smoke and the muscles in his corded neck flexed as he stared at her.

He started at the opposite side of the room and made the rounds. Angelique tried to ignore him. Tried not to snatch glimpses of his broad shoulders and easy smile as he greeted just about everyone there. Tried and failed miserably, because his quick, subtle glances in her direction made her skin sizzle and a certain spot between her thighs tingle.

Frick. If only she had three hands, she could drink until Dr. Tall, Dark, and Hot-some was just a blur and the pink turned to red.

Blake rounded the room, slow and methodical, shaking every hand. And, oh, how the locals seemed to love Doc Holloway. His smooth, country-boy manner had all the men slapping him on the back and all the women puddling at his feet. As the town’s only medical doctor, he probably knew just about everyone and their secrets.

Including hers. She’d revealed a weakness when he touched her breast. A vulnerability that she hated with every ounce of her being. If the tables had been turned, she would have looked for a way to exploit that vulnerability. But not Doc Holloway. Even though she was the enemy threatening to help tear down his whole life, his Hippocratic oath had kicked in and he’d shown her compassion. Kindness.

A waitress scampered over to him like a puppy dog and coaxed a five-dollar bill out of him in exchange for a pink ribbon, which he pinned to the collar of his blue pinstriped button-up shirt. Angelique chugged on her beer as he took a seat at the end of the bar where he chatted with the bartender, Dylan, and his cousin Perry. Dylan and Perry laughed, but Blake just nodded, smiled, then returned his heavy-lidded stare to Angelique.

She pretended not to notice and nodded at something her mom said about her nephew’s pediatric appointment. Really, it was a little hard to concentrate on her nephew’s butt rash while surrounded by enough pink to make her nauseated and with Blake watching her every move.

It made her squirm. Made her feel self-conscious in the knit dress that showed off her tall, curvy figure. It also made her want to invite him into the parking lot and rip that crisply pressed shirt of his open without unbuttoning it first.

She looked at the frosty mugs in front of her. Jeez, she wasn’t usually such a lightweight. The local brew must be potent because all she could think of right now was Blake hiking her dress up, but still leaving it to cover her breasts.

Now, there was a thought. Sex might be a possibility if she left her shirt on.

No. No. She actually shook her head. Blake wasn’t her type. Not that she actually had a type anymore. Too bad she wasn’t interested in women. She wouldn’t feel half as insecure about her body if she was undressing in front of another woman. But she was as straight as Blake Holloway was beautifully masculine. Which meant she was really, really straight.

Lorenda came over, introduced herself to Kimberly, and waved them onto the dance floor. “Come on! I love to line dance. Doesn’t require a partner.”

“I’m with you, girl,” Kimberly said, and they both dragged Angelique onto the dance floor just as a new song started.

“I have no idea how to do this,” Angelique sputtered. “And I’m not wearing boots.”

“Just follow everyone else,” said Lorenda. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Okay, four hands would come in handy right about now. If she could drink with all four hands at once, it might give her enough liquid courage to do this. Angelique watched the other dancers for a minute, then joined the fray. It took a few minutes to catch on, but before she knew it, she moved in step with the other dancers, sliding and turning to the beat. Laughing when she made a mistake, letting the music take her body along with the rhythm. She grooved and moved like she’d been line dancing her whole life. She quickly saw the appeal, because it was easy and fun.

Her formfitting burgundy sweater dress allowed her to move easily to the music, but her flat-heeled black shoes were a little binding. So she kicked them off at the table and ran back to reclaim her spot in between Lorenda and Kimberly. By the time they’d danced straight through three songs and worked up a little sweat, they were laughing like three teenage girls at a slumber party.

Dr. Tall, Dark, and Who?
That’s right
. She didn’t need a man to have fun.

Finally, the DJ announced a break from line dancing and put on a slow song for couples. Angelique and Kimberly took a seat at the table, inviting Lorenda to join them. Lorenda called over a server and ordered another round of drinks.

And here came Blake. No, no. Yes. No.
Yes.

Relief washed through Angelique as Blake made a detour and headed toward the restrooms. And disappointment, too.

A soft country song came on, and a burly man wearing a long sandy-blond ponytail and looking to be in his midthirties came over, the spitting image of the country singer Trace Adkins. He approached Kimberly and took off his hat. “Ma’am, would you care to dance?”

Kimberly sized him up. “Sure, but I’m not going home with you,” she announced, almost like it was a challenge. She did that to men. Tested them to see how quickly she could scare them off. Worked nearly every time.

“Fair enough.” His amber eyes twinkled at her, like he knew her MO. “I’ll settle for a dance or two, then.”

Kimberly left her chair and took his arm. “And keep your big male hands north of the border.
Capiche?
”

“Yes, ma’am.” He led her onto the dance floor and swung her into a fluid waltz.

Two square pegs who’d become fast friends. Angelique sighed and looked at her mom and dad, who even cuddled to the soft music.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you ask one of these single men to dance,” her mom said. “It’s just a dance, after all.”

“I was just coming to claim a spot on her dance card,” said a voice from behind her, and her heart skittered. The voice slid over her like hot caramel on an ice cream sundae. She swallowed, and despite the sweat she’d worked up on the dance floor, a shiver lanced through her.

C
hapter
T
en

When Blake walked up behind Angelique, it took every ounce of self-control he could muster not to touch her. A small ripple of satisfaction pinged through him when she startled at his voice, then an infinitesimal shiver slid over her.

Funny, since she was flushed from line dancing, and it wasn’t the least bit drafty inside of Joe’s.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go near her tonight. Any contact he had with her should be to weaken her case or outmaneuver her legal strategy. Nothing more. But every time she shimmied her shoulders and shook her rear end in perfect rhythm with the music, his mouth had grown drier until he could almost spit cotton. Not even Joe’s best brew could quench his thirst for her. Her long legs, only half covered by a short dress that revealed every curve, had flexed and teased him with every ridiculous step while she line danced with Joe’s usual Saturday night crowd.

“Sorry, but I’m all danced out,” Angelique said, taking a long swallow of beer without looking at him.

The older couple at the table had to be Angelique’s parents because the resemblance was remarkable. When Angelique didn’t make an effort to introduce them, Blake did the honors himself. “I’m Blake Holloway. Angelique’s neighbor.”

Blake could swear he heard Angelique’s teeth grind, even over the music. He couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Thanks for cutting that poison oak down. Who knew she was so allergic?” Her dad offered his hand, and Blake shook it.

“You folks up here for a visit?” Blake asked.

“Just a few days to check on our girl.” Mrs. Barbetta smiled at her daughter, and Blake’s heart warmed. Nice folks. Strong family ties. Angelique was luckier than she realized.

He looked at Mrs. Barbetta. “Can I steal your daughter away for a dance?” Better to go to the person with the most power. Mom.

Angelique shook her head. “I don’t think so, I’m a little tir—”

“Oh, go on, dear. It’ll be fun, right Frank?” Mr. Barbetta, his mug half to his lips, humphed when his wife’s elbow connected with his ribs.

“Yes, of course. Go have fun, sweat pea,” her dad said.

Angelique turned to Blake, her brow knitted and eyes flashing. The dark irises shimmered under the lights. When his gaze drifted over her flushed face, the tension in her expression eased. Her breath hitched, and her lips parted.

Perfect
.

“What do you say, Ms. Barbetta?” His mouth curved into a knowing smile. “We can dance and talk shop at the same time.”

Her eyes rounded, and she glanced at her parents. Ah, so they probably didn’t know exactly what Angelique’s business in Red River entailed.

Finally, she eased out of her chair and faced him. “One dance.”

Smiling, he held out his arm and led her onto the dance floor. The song was slow and smooth, but she tensed like a plank of wood when he pulled her into his embrace. A light sheen of perspiration glittered across her neck and chest just above the zipper of her knit dress. The soft skin at the base of her neck pulsed.

“I’m not really a country and western dancer,” she mumbled. “So easy steps, okay?”

He eased her into a simple two-step.

“Could’ve fooled me. You were doing a pretty good job line dancing.”

“Well, that was line dancing. You don’t have to follow someone else’s lead. You can do it all by yourself.”

“But it’s so much better with a partner.” His voice went husky, and he smiled at the slow burn that appeared over her sculpted cheekbones.

Changing directions, he scooted her across the dance floor in a slow cadence. Unable to accommodate the shift, she stepped on his toes. Her pink cheeks deepened to a flaming scarlet.

“I told you I don’t do country and western. You don’t listen.”

“Well, talk slower. Maybe I can follow along,” he smarted off.

She glowered at him.

He had to laugh. “You’re doing just fine.” He rested their clasped hands against his chest. “Don’t worry about your feet. Close your eyes and feel your way through the steps.”

Her body solidified into granite.

He sighed. “I’m serious. If you concentrate on the way my body shifts and moves under your hands, your feet will follow.”

Her eyes rounded.

Ah, crap. That
did
sound kind of sexual, because he could easily picture his body moving and shifting with hers. And her hands. Yes, her hands would definitely be all over him.

“This . . .” She swallowed, her eyes darting around the room. “This really isn’t a good idea.”

“Probably not.” He shifted their direction to maneuver around a corner of the dance floor. “But here we are, so let’s just go with it. See where the music takes us.”

She searched his expression. “What do you expect to gain? Do you think if I succumb to your charm, like all the other women in Red River, I’ll give in and let you win?”

Maybe.
But it was more than that. He wanted her to stop looking at him like just another case to win and see him as a man. Her attraction to him was obvious, and God help him, he wanted to get to know the woman under that impenetrable shell of hers.

“Did you just say ‘succumb to my charm’?” he teased her and felt oddly gratified when annoyance flashed in her eyes.

“I did. Would you like me to explain the meaning?”

“Oh, I know what it means. They did make us learn a few vocabulary words in medical school. I just wanted to be sure that’s what you said, because . . .” He smiled down at her. Slow, lazy, drawing out the moment because of how much it was going to irritate her. “Now I know you think I’m charming.”

She nearly growled.

He tightened his hold on the small of her back and pulled her closer. “Not everyone has an ulterior motive, Angelique.” He kind of did, but he was also bent on getting to know her as a woman. “Knock off the badass lawyer routine, drop the armor, and just be. Who knows, you might even have some fun.”

“I’m not here to just
be
,” she said through clenched teeth. “Or to have fun.”

“I’m well aware of that.” He turned her to the left, and she missed a step.

He tugged her closer, and she studied him for a moment.

“Just concentrate on the music and the movement under your fingertips.” He looked deep into her shimmering eyes. Saw the moment she decided to trust him, and her eyelids fluttered shut for several beats. Long, glossy eyelashes swept the soft skin under her big ebony eyes.

He rested his cheek against her temple and breathed against her hair. A delicate tremor slid over her, and he swallowed a moan.

What was he thinking?
This is trouble, idiot.
Pulling away a fraction, he looked down at her. After a few beats, her eyes drifted open, and she swallowed.

“Where’s your pink ribbon?” Blake asked.

“Pink is tacky.” Her expression went hard. “And I’m not a weepy female who wallows in grief and self-pity.”

Yeah, he got the not-a-weepy-female part loud and clear. Like a blinking neon sign. The kind that induced migraines. He pulled in a strained breath.

Another slow shift and they drifted in a different direction. “I haven’t told anyone why you’re in Red River,” Blake said. “But they’ll find out eventually. Rumors spread pretty fast in this town.”

Her jaw hardened. “Is that supposed to be my problem?”

“The business owners involved in the case sort of designated me the leader. I’ll keep it quiet as long as I can.”

“Why would you do that, and why should I care?”

Because I’m an idiot?
“I’m trying to keep it quiet because I’m hoping for a resolution before it gets ugly.”
And so I can spend more time with you before you’re run out of town by an angry mob
. They might even run him out of Red River if they thought he was protecting the person who was there to ruin their town. “And I think you do care.”

The melody slowed to a close, and they stood in place, still toe-to-toe.

“Well, you’re wrong, Doc. I care about doing my job. That’s it.”

He glanced around the room, absorbing her words. Several couples left the dance floor, while others walked on. Kimberly was already partnered up for the next dance. An elderly couple had joined Angelique’s parents and were deep in conversation.

Angelique tried to pull her hand off his chest, but he kept it anchored just over his heart. He looked down at her, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. The lush pink lips parted.

No, pink wasn’t in the least bit tacky. It was gorgeous and tempting.

“You can’t win,” she whispered, a hint of regret twined into her words.

He wasn’t usually the confrontational type, but the future of Red River was too important to walk away from without a fight. Or without seeing where things might lead with Angelique, if he could just buy a little time.

“Some things are worth fighting for.”

“I’m meeting with your attorney soon, and he’s not up to the task.”

“It’s just a preliminary meeting, right?” His attorney’s last e-mail said he’d set a meeting with Angelique to size up the situation so he could plan a strategy. When Blake volunteered to attend, his attorney said it wasn’t necessary. Said it was routine for opposing attorneys to meet before the case really got going.

“Yes, but . . .” She pulled a lip between her teeth.

“What?” He wanted her to open up to him. And not just to get information that could help his case. He wanted her to trust him.

“Don’t you get it? I’m the best at what I do.”

“Modest, too.”

That coaxed a glimmer of something to form in her eyes. Not anger. Not irritation. But something he couldn’t quite identify because it was almost akin to regret.

Her gaze hovered on their clasped hands. “Why are you going to make me humiliate you and your friends?”

“Because deep down I don’t think you really want to do that. And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t fight for what’s mine?”

Another song started, this one a little faster. He wasn’t sure Angelique could handle a quicker two-step, so he just swayed in place. Her body followed his in rhythm.

“I’ll win. Guaranteed. Advise your friends to take the buyout deal my clients are offering.”

“Your clients are offering a fraction of what our properties are worth.”

“At least you’ll come out of it with something, and you can start over.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple for some of us.” A few of the proprietors would retire. Some had owned their office space long enough to pay it off and could start over in a different location if they wanted. But most, including him, had mortgaged their properties and would likely end up flat broke or bankrupt when it was over.

And she’d be gone from Red River and from his life, probably forever.

No. No, it wouldn’t be possible for some of the business owners to start over. She’d studied the file and knew that several of them would be wiped out financially.

Blake’s heartbeat thrummed under her palm, his hand engulfing hers. She’d come to Red River with a very simple agenda—win an easy case for a mega client that would catapult her into a partnership. A task she should be able to complete in her sleep. Unfortunately, her sleep had been invaded by a tall, incredibly well built country doctor, and the simple task had suddenly become very difficult.

Because you’re letting it get personal.

Angelique looked up into Blake’s baby blues, and her throat nearly closed because they skimmed over her entire face. Slow and smooth like the music. Like his molten lava voice and silky touch, saying so much, even though no words left his mouth.

His eyes turned from smoke to fire, and they nearly burned her up with their heat. The air around them snapped with energy. Hot. Sexy. Very, very dangerous.

She wanted . . . him. But . . . she couldn’t imagine . . .

Closing her eyes, she dislodged her hand from his and stepped back. “This is highly irregular.”

“Two people dancing is irregular?” Blake asked, an innocent smile on his lips. Wickedness in his eyes.

She may already be on thin ice at the firm because of Gabriel and his ludicrous accusations. Her career had taken a few heavy hits lately. Flirting with the enemy camp wouldn’t likely help. Thankfully, Gabriel hadn’t paid enough attention to this particular case or Blake to know she was crossing some boundaries. This case didn’t revolve around Gabriel, so he wasn’t likely to give it a second thought. But her biggest fear wasn’t for her career.