Taming Clint Westmoreland - Brenda Jackson [1]
He could definitely see her on the cover of some sexy magazine. And it was apparent that he wasn’t the only person who thought so, judging by the blatant male attention she was getting. One man had the nerve to stop walking, stand in the middle of the walkway as if he were glued to the spot and openly stare at her.
Clint cut the spectator a fierce frown, which made the man quickly turn and continue walking. Then Clint felt angry with himself for momentarily losing his senses to play the part of a jealous husband, until he remembered that legally he was Alyssa’s husband. So he had a right to get jealous if he wanted to…if that rationale at the moment made any damn sense, which it probably didn’t.
He shook his head remembering how men used to have the same reaction to his sister, Casey, and he hadn’t liked it then, either. For some reason he liked it even less now.
Alyssa was closer and the first thing he thought, besides the fact she was a looker, was that she certainly knew how to wear a pair of jeans. Her hips swayed with each step she took and impossible as it might seem, although he hadn’t felt an attraction to her five years ago, he was definitely feeling some strong vibes now.
He was so absorbed in checking her out that it hadn’t occurred to him just how close she was until she came to a stop directly in front of him, up close and personal and all in his space. Now he saw everything. The dark eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones, full lips, head of curly copper-colored hair and a gorgeous medium-brown face.
And he heard the sexy voice that went along with those features when she spoke and said, “Hello, Clint. I’m here.”
She most certainly was!
He hasn’t changed, Alyssa thought as she struggled to keep up with his brisk stride as they walked together out of the airport to the parking lot. At six-four he was a lot taller than her five-eight height, and the black Stetson he wore on his head was still very much a part of his wardrobe.
But she would admit that his face had matured in ways that only a woman who had concentrated on it years before could notice. The first time they’d met she thought he was more handsome than any man had a right to be, and now at thirty-two he was even more so. Even then she had concluded that the perfection of his features was due to the cool, arrogant lines that underscored his eyes and the dimples that set boldly in his cheeks—regardless of whether he smiled or not.
Then there were his chin and jaw that seemed to have been carved flawlessly, not to mention full lips that were, in her opinion, way too perfect to belong to any man. To say he hadn’t made quite an impression on a fresh-out-of-college, twenty-two-year-old virgin was an understatement. The one thing she wouldn’t forget was that she’d had one hell of a crush on him, just like so many other women who’d worked for the bureau.
“My truck is parked over there,” he said.
His words intruded into her thoughts and she glanced up and met his gaze. “Are we going straight to the Rangers’ headquarters?” she asked, trying not to make it so obvious that she was studying his lips.
Those lips were what had drawn her to him from the first. He’d been a man of few words, but his lips, whenever they had moved, had always been worth the wait. They demanded attention. And she would even go so far to say, demanded a plan of action that tempted you to taste them. Dreaming of kissing him had been something she’d done often.
Needless to say, she had been the envy of several female Rangers when she’d been the one chosen to work with him on that assignment. He was considered a private person and she seriously doubted that at the time he’d been aware of just how many women had lusted after him, or made him a constant participant in their fantasies.
“Yes, we can go straight there,” he answered, breaking into the middle of her thoughts. “I figure it shouldn’t take long to do what needs to be done. Hopefully no more than an hour,” he said.
She was