Thunder Canyon Homecoming / A Thunder Canyon Christmas

“I told Russ we had plans for dinner,” he reminded her. “You don’t want to make a liar out of me, do you?”

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“Erin.”

She frowned at the interruption.

“You seem to be forgetting that I’m the one who tracked you down this morning and pretty much blackmailed you into spending the day with me.”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“Which should prove that if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t be.”

“Okay,” she finally said, but the furrow in her brow deepened when he pulled into the parking lot of the Super Saver Mart, still referred to by a lot of the locals as the Thunder Canyon Mercantile. “This is where we’re going for dinner?”

He chuckled. “This is where we’re going to get the ingredients for dinner.”

She looked at him suspiciously.

“No, I don’t expect you to cook dinner for me,” he said be fore she could ask. “I’m going to cook for you.”

“You are?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I guess because I am,” she admitted, as they made their way toward the entrance. “No man has ever cooked me dinner before.”

He eyed her warily. “Are you one of those—what do they call them—vegetarians or vegans or whatever?”

The tone of his voice left her in no doubt what this man from cattle country thought of that possibility and made her lips curve. “No, I’m not a vegetarian or a vegan.”

“Are you a picky eater?”

“There are some things I don’t like,” she admitted, “but I’m not picky.”

“What don’t you like?”

“Peas. Pickles. Pineapple.”

He lifted his brows. “You have something against the letter ‘p’?”

“I don’t like squash, either.”

“Like…pumpkin?”

She smiled again. “Any kind of squash.”

“Well then, I think we’re pretty safe,” he told her. “Because there are no peas, pickles, pineapple or squash in my red sauce.”

“I do like red sauce.”

“How do you feel about pasta?”

“I love pasta.”

He grinned. “Then let’s go shopping.”

Chapter Five

If she’d been surprised by his offer to cook for her, she was even more so by the ease with which he pushed the cart around the grocery store. He didn’t just toss the vegetables into a bag, he checked the color of the tomatoes, tested the firmness of the garlic, gauged the texture of the peppers.

She made a face when he was sniffing the mushrooms. “Those aren’t one of my favorite foods,” she admitted to him.

“These are shiitake, not porcini,” he teased.

“I’m just not a fan of any kind of fungus,” she said.

“You won’t even taste them.”

She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was going to sit down for a home-cooked meal that she didn’t have to prepare, and she was curious about his skill in the kitchen. Okay, she was curious about his skill in other areas, too, but she refused to let her mind go down that path. Again.

He added a head of romaine lettuce, a bag of carrots, a bunch of green onions and a cucumber.

Moving out of the produce department to the bakery, he grabbed a loaf of French bread, then a package of fresh fettucine, extra virgin olive oil, basil, oregano, a hunk of parmesan cheese and a bottle of red wine.

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

He took a mental inventory of the ingredients as they moved along the conveyor belt toward the cashier. “I hope so.”

“Do you do this often?”

“Shop for groceries?”

“Cook.”

“Do you mean cook for a woman or just cook in general?”

“Cook in general,” she said, unwilling to admit that she was just as curious to know if he was in the habit of cooking for his female companions.

“I have to eat,” he said logically.

“But—” She bit her lip, stifling the reply that had almost spilled out uncensored.

“But,” he prompted.

She felt her cheeks burn. “I just thought you’d probably have women lining up to cook for you.”

“Well, if you’re offering …” He grinned.

“You said you were cooking for me,” she reminded him.

“Tonight,” he agreed. “But maybe next time you could show off your culinary skills.”

“You’re assuming there will be a next time.”

“Not assuming,” he denied. “Just hopeful.”

She had enjoyed the time they’d spent together today and, so long as he wasn’t looking for anything more than friendship from her—and so long as she remembered that she wasn’t in a position to offer anything more—she wouldn’t object to spending more time with him.

“I do make a mean enchilada,” she told him.

“Spicy?”

“I guess I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He smiled before he turned to the cashier to pay for his groceries.

Corey put Erin to work washing the lettuce and other vegetables while he got busy chopping and dicing. Her kitchen was laid out almost identical to the one in the condo he was renting, so he felt comfortable moving around in it and opening cupboards and drawers to find what he needed. He located a big pot to boil water for the pasta and a wok-style frying pan that he could use to make the sauce. He opened the bottle of wine to let it breathe while he heated a drizzle of olive oil in the pan and tossed in a couple of crushed garlic cloves.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Erin asked him.

He dumped the red and green peppers into the pan, stirred them around with a wooden spoon, then began peeling the tomatoes.

“Here and there,” he said.

She lifted her brows at the vagueness of his response, but he didn’t elaborate. He didn’t think he’d score any points with Erin by admitting it was an ex-girlfriend who’d taught him the basics of the sauce he was currently making for her. Especially not if she knew that he’d appreciated Gina’s marinara sauce more than he’d appreciated Gina and, once he’d realized that, he’d decided to learn to make it for himself so that he could enjoy his pasta without the complications of an unhappy relationship.

“Why don’t you pour the wine?” he suggested.

She found two glasses in the cupboard and did as he suggested.

He finished dicing the tomatoes he’d peeled and tossed them into the pan, then added some spices and stirred everything around again.

“It smells good already,” Erin told him.

He washed his hands and dried them on the towel that was hanging over the handle of the oven door before he turned to take the glass of wine she offered to him. “It will taste even better,” he promised.

Her brows rose up again. “Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Confident,” he corrected.

When he stepped toward her, Erin felt an instinctual urge to retreat. But the counter was at her back, leaving her with nowhere to go.

His lips curved, slowly, seductively. Her heart hammered.

She had no doubt that he had reason to be confident. She knew enough about his background to know that he’d been born into a powerful and influential family, but he’d also achieved his own success. And men like Corey, men who wore success and self-assurance as comfortably as the designer labels on their backs, drew more than their fair share of female attention. Which made her wonder—what was he doing with her?

She wasn’t oblivious to her own appeal, but she wasn’t an heiress or a supermodel, and she didn’t doubt that Corey had dated women from each of those categories—and a few more. She also guessed that he was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted, and the look in his eyes left her in no doubt that what he wanted, at least right now, was her. And though she had no intention of giving in to the desire that surged through her veins, she couldn’t deny that she wanted him right back.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she knew that if he kissed her again, right here and right now, she would be lost. She put a hand out—a desperate, wordless attempt to hold him off, at least long enough for her to gather her wits about her—and realized she was holding her glass of wine in it.

“Well, then,” she said, lifting her glass a little higher. “We should toast to dinner.”

Amusement crinkled the corners of his eyes as he tapped the rim of his glass against hers.

“To dinner,” he agreed, “with new friends.”

She sipped her wine without tasting it, all too aware of his closeness and the intensity of his gaze on her.

“I should set the table.”

“There’s no rush,” he assured her. “The sauce needs to simmer for about half an hour.”

Half an hour?

It wasn’t all that long, really, but somehow, it seemed like an eternity. Because the more time she spent with Corey, the more difficult it was to ignore the attraction she felt.

Her immediate response to him had been purely physical—the first time they met, she hadn’t known him well enough for it to be anything more than a hormonal response to a good-looking man who practically oozed charm and sex appeal. But the more she got to know Corey, the more she found herself actually liking him.

Despite the attraction that zinged between them, she felt comfortable with him. Comfortable enough to laugh when he teased her, to respond in kind when he flirted with her and to enjoy the conversations they shared as much as the silences that sometimes fell in-between. Yeah, she was definitely starting to like him, and the combination of lust and like was a lot more difficult to ignore than a purely hormonal reaction.

But when they were alone together, as they were now, the pleasure she felt in his company grew into more, and she wasn’t completely comfortable with that.

“Speaking of the sauce,” she said, needing to break the spell that had woven around her like a spider’s web, invisibly drawing her closer to him. And just like a fly caught in a web, she knew that it would be dangerous to let him get any closer.

“What about the sauce?” There was a hint of laughter in his voice, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“Don’t you need to stir it…or something?”

“Or something,” he agreed and lifted a hand to trail a finger down her cheek.

Her pulse pounded, her breath caught.

Corey’s eyes stayed locked with hers.

“You’re a bundle of contradictions, Erin Castro.”

She didn’t dare ask what he meant, or maybe she was afraid that she knew. As clearly as she could read the desire in his eyes, she was sure he could see the same want echoed in hers. But she’d told him that she didn’t want to get involved, and she’d meant it.

“I’m not trying to be,” she told him.

He held her gaze for another minute before he stepped back. “I know. And that’s why I’m going to focus on my sauce and let you set the table.”

She exhaled slowly and turned to set her wineglass on the counter. As she reached into the cupboard for the plates, she assured herself that she was grateful he’d backed away.

Grateful and relieved.

And more than a little disappointed.

Half an hour later, they were seated at the table enjoying hot pasta, warm bread and crisp salad.

“You were right,” she admitted. “It tastes even better than it smells—and it smells fabulous.”

He twirled his fork in his own pasta. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

“Are you kidding? This is one of the best meals I’ve had since…” Her words trailed off.

Since she’d come to Thunder Canyon, she suddenly realized and felt a pang of sadness thinking of the family she’d left in San Diego. But she’d had no choice. Not if she wanted to find the answers to the questions that Erma had planted in her mind. And she did want those answers. She needed the answers in order to understand who she really was.

“Since?” Corey prompted.

She forced a smile. “Since I can’t remember when,” she told him, keeping her voice deliberately light. “Really, this is amazing.”

He took a slice of warm bread from the basket, tore it in half. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She swallowed another mouthful of pasta, then wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever’s on your mind.”

She reached for her wineglass. “There’s nothing—”

He touched a finger to her lips, halting the automatic denial. She set her glass back down, nearly sloshing wine over the rim.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, say so, darlin’,” he told her. “But don’t tell me there’s nothing because it was obvious when I got here this morning that there was something bothering you and I can tell that your thoughts are wandering again.”

She wondered if she’d been so obviously preoccupied or if he was more intuitive than she would have guessed. Either way, she couldn’t imagine telling him what she’d been thinking. She couldn’t imagine telling anyone about her suspicions, though she knew she should probably talk to someone before she took the next step.

Right now she had no idea what her next step was going to be, how to follow-up and find proof of her theory. Sure, she’d considered approaching Grant and saying, “I think I might be your sister.” But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t imagine how he might respond to such an announcement, except that she was confident he would not throw his arms around her and say, “Welcome to the family.”

At the very least, he would be cautious; more likely, suspicious; possibly he would even question her sanity. All of which would be understandable reactions to such an unexpected claim, and all of which reaffirmed for Erin her decision to stay away from the resort today and avoid any chance of crossing paths with her boss.

But as much as her actions had been motivated by self-preservation, she couldn’t deny that she was glad Corey had shown up and taken her mind off of the situation—at least for a while.

“I was just thinking that I was glad I played hooky today,” she told him, because that was true.

His eyes narrowed, as if he knew she wasn’t being completely truthful with him, but then he smiled. “I’m glad you played hooky today, too.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t keep playing hooky, which means that I have an early morning.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, taking her plate and cutlery to the dishwasher.

“Is that supposed to be my cue to take off?”

“Yes, it is,” she said, but with more than a hint of reluctance.

She really had enjoyed her day with Corey—and she’d appreciated that he’d been able to take her mind off of her worries when nothing and no one else had done so.

“I’ll head out as soon as the kitchen is cleared up,” he told her.

“You cooked dinner, so I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

“That doesn’t seem fair when I made the mess.”

“It’s more than fair, considering the delicious meal I just ate.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” More importantly, she was worried that if she didn’t get him out of her apartment as soon as possible, she might change her mind about wanting him to go.

“All right then,” he relented. “But only because I have some early morning meetings myself that I need to prepare for.”

“Meetings? I didn’t realize…I thought you were just in town for your brother’s wedding.”

“I would have come just for the wedding,” he agreed. “But as it turned out, I had a business opportunity come up in the area.”

“Then you’re going to be staying in Thunder Canyon for a while?”

He leaned closer. “Do you want me to?”

More than she should, and that was not an admission she was willing to make to a man who was all too aware of the effect he had on the female species. Instead, she only said, “I’m sure your plans have nothing to do with me.”

His smile, slow and sexy, made her heart bump against her ribs.

“Don’t be too sure, darlin’,” he said in a tone that was as slow and sexy as his smile and shimmered over her skin like a caress. “While it’s true that some new opportunities have come up, I’m not sure I would have been so willing to hang around if I wasn’t also tempted by the possibility of spending some more time with you.”

“I told you—” she had to look away to break the hypnotic effect of those espresso-colored eyes “—I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”

“Yeah, you told me,” he agreed. “But your kisses say some thin’ totally different, darlin’.”

“It was one kiss—and it never should have happened.”

“My mama might have raised me to be a gentleman,” he said, “but she also taught me to never back down from a challenge.”

“That wasn’t a challenge,” she said.

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” she insisted vehemently, desperately. “It was a state ment of fact.”

He smiled again. “We’ll see about that, darlin’.”

“And stop calling me darlin’.”

“My apologies…Erin.”

The way he spoke her name made it sound more intimate than any words of passion that had ever been whispered between lovers in the dark. She fought the urge to shiver. She refused to give any outward indication of the effect of his nearness on her.

“And the reason I said ‘kisses’ is because there will be more,” he told her.

“That’s quite an assumption to make,” she said.

“I know.”

His lips curved, just a little, before they covered hers.

It was a gentle kiss this time—teasing, testing. As if, despite the previous kiss they’d shared, he was unsure what her response would be this time.

Erin had no doubts. She was sure that she could—would—resist.

Her certainty lasted all of about two seconds. Because in the moment that his mouth first brushed against hers, every thought of protest, every ounce of resistance, simply melted away in response to the heat that churned through her body.

The sciences had never been her forte, but she did understand the basics of simple chemistry. And it didn’t get much more basic than the rubbing of a man and a woman together resulting in physical attraction.

She knew there were exceptions to the rule. Trevor had been one of those exceptions. However, Corey was the poster boy for the rule. And in his arms, Erin was nothing more than a reactant.

She had no free will, no ability to control her own response where he was concerned, and no desire to be anywhere but in his arms.

Already the feel of his mouth on hers was familiar, his flavor addictive. She’d wanted this—wanted him—from the first, and the knowledge shook her. Or maybe it was the kiss that made her tremble.

Chapter Six

She’d said their first kiss never should have happened, and maybe she was right about that. But at this point, Corey thought that attempting to deny the attraction between them would be like closing the barn door after the horse had gotten out. And the desire that raced through his veins reminded him of Lucifer racing across the field, sampling his taste of freedom. Heady and reckless and desperate for more.

He desperately wanted more of Erin.

All of Erin.

He already knew how it would be between them, how she would feel, her naked body beneath his, moving against him, willing and eager. How she would wrap herself around him; how he would sink into her warmth and softness.

He could picture it clearly, and the details were so vivid and real, they made him ache.

But somewhere beneath the passion he tasted on her lips, there was something else. Just a hint of uncertainty, a touch of wariness. He could make her forget all of her doubts. He could simply keep kissing her, touching her and enticing her to the point that her desire overwhelmed any lingering reluctance. But he knew that they would both have regrets if he did.

No, he wouldn’t take her to bed until he was certain that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So instead of letting his hands roam over her and touch her as he craved, he contented himself with holding her. Even when her arms lifted to link behind his head and her body softened against his, he held his own raging desire in check and continued to kiss her.

Just tasting.

Testing.

Tempting.

Except that he wasn’t just tempting Erin, he was tempting himself, too. And because there was a definite limit to how much temptation he could endure, he gently eased away. Slowly. Reluctantly.

Her eyelids fluttered, opened, revealing beautiful blue eyes clouded with confusion.

He brushed his thumb over the curve of her bottom lip, moist and swollen from his kiss, and felt her tremble again. He dropped his hand, realizing he was venturing a little too close to the edge of his limits.

“I’ll be seeing you again,” he promised.

And then, before he could forget his resolution not to take more than she was ready to give, he turned and walked away.

As Erin closed and locked the door at Corey’s back, she was more confused than ever. And considering how confused she was when she arrived in Montana, that was saying something.

She desperately wished she had someone to talk to about her feelings for Corey, but who?

Erika was probably the best friend she had in Thunder Canyon, but she was a newlywed who certainly didn’t need to be troubled by her friend’s romantic woes, not to mention that she was married to Corey’s brother.

Haley was the first friend she’d made in town, but as a waitress, part-time student and volunteer counselor at ROOTS—an organization she’d founded to help troubled teens—Haley had more than enough on her plate. And on top of everything else, she was in the midst of her own romance with Marlon Cates.

Erin was pleased that her closest friends were blissfully in love. She wasn’t so pleased that their happiness left her to figure out this situation with Corey on her own.

She really didn’t want to get involved with him, but she had a feeling he was right—she was already involved. And now that she knew he was planning to stay in Thunder Canyon, at least for the short term, she would have to figure out how she was going to deal with him.

Sure, she could just continue to ignore the attraction she felt, but her attempts to deny the feelings he stirred inside of her had already proved futile. All he had to do was touch her and all of her resistance melted away. And when he kissed her…well, just the memory of his kisses, the masterful seduction of his mouth on hers, made her sigh.

She’d been attracted to other men before, and she’d had a few relationships in her twenty-five years. She’d also had her heart knocked around a few times, and that wasn’t an experience she was eager to repeat. Of course, she’d been younger then and more naive, and she’d learned from her mistakes. She didn’t lead with her heart anymore, she didn’t believe everything a man told her (and she was especially skeptical of declarations of affection made while naked), and she wasn’t ever again going to stay in a relationship with someone because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him that there was no zing in the relationship—which is what had gone so wrong with Trevor.

Of course, lack of zing wasn’t a problem with Corey. The problem was too much zing. So much zing, in fact, it was interfering with the normal, rational functioning of her brain.

What she needed to do, if she wanted to ensure that her hormones didn’t overrule her head, was establish boundaries—and make sure that the man in question was aware of those boundaries. Because Corey Traub with his dark, bedroom eyes and slow, sexy smile and slower, sexier drawl was a cowboy who had undoubtedly left a trail of broken hearts all across Texas, and she had no intention of being his latest conquest. Even if the thought of being conquered by such a man held a certain undeniable appeal.

Which made her again consider that instead of ignoring the attraction, she should embrace it; instead of establishing boundaries, she should obliterate them. So long as they each knew what they wanted from the other, why shouldn’t they enjoy being together?