Taming Clint Westmoreland - Brenda Jackson [28]
“I’m glad to hear it. Well, I’ve got to go. Eleanor is dropping by later and we’re going to attend a church function together later.”
“Okay, Aunt Claudine, and thanks for everything,” Alyssa said.
“You’re welcome.”
Alyssa hung up the phone thinking how appreciative she was of her aunt.
“How are things going?”
She turned to see Clint standing in the doorway.
“They’re going fine. My aunt is shipping some boxes to me and I’m hoping to get them in a few days,” Alyssa said.
Opening her mouth and getting words out had been a real challenge, especially with the way he was looking at her. Heat was beginning to slither through her body from the intensity of his gaze. He stood leaning in the doorway and she could feel her control begin to unravel. Whether she liked it or not, desire seemed to grip her each and every time she saw him.
“In the meantime,” he said, interrupting her thoughts, “I figured you might need some additional clothing so I placed a few items of clothes on your bed.”
She lifted a brow. “Clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Women’s clothes?” There was a suspicious note in her voice which she wished wasn’t there. She further wished he wouldn’t pick up on it.
“Yes, women’s clothes. You and Casey are about the same size so I took the liberty of borrowing some of her things for you. When she left for Montana she wasn’t certain she would be staying so she left some of her things here,” Clint said.
Alyssa felt relief that the clothes belonged to his sister and not some other woman. She was mature enough to know that Clint had probably dated a slew of women over the years. Some had probably stayed at the ranch. That was his business. And what he did after the thirty days were up and their marriage was annulled was also his business. So why did the thought that his business could include other women bother her?
And then there was the thought that he had been in her bedroom. Granted, this was his house, the one he’d grown up in as a child, which meant that he probably knew the location of every room blindfolded. But the idea that he had been in the room where she’d slept last night, had gotten close to the bed, made every nerve in her body tingle.
“Thanks for being so thoughtful,” she managed to say as she stood.
“No problem.”
When it became obvious that he had no intention of leaving—he just stood in that same spot staring at her—she raised a brow.
“Is there something else?”
“Yes, there is,” he said.
She felt the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to ask but felt compelled to do so anyway.
“And what is that?”
“Chester wanted to know if you would be joining us for dinner,” Clint said, clearly uncomfortable with extending the invitation to her.
Alyssa released another deep sigh as she studied his expression. That hadn’t been what she expected him to say and she felt a touch of unwanted disappointment. It had been her idea that they agree on how far they would take their attraction, so why was she feeling so edgy?
“Alyssa?”
“Yes?”
“Will you be joining us?”
She wondered if he really wanted her to.
“And how do you feel about me joining you for dinner, Clint?” she asked quietly.
He rubbed his chin as he continued to look at her. She watched as his gaze slowly scanned her body from head to toe. He smiled slightly and then said, “We’re having meat loaf. I’d much rather look at you across the table than down at a plate of meat loaf.” He added, “Chester usually burns it. He says it’s supposed to taste better that way.”
She couldn’t help her smile. “Does it? Taste better that way?”
“Not really,” he said, looking thoughtful. “But then the only taste I seem to enjoy lately is yours.”
His words singed fire through her body with the force of a blowtorch. A woman could only take so much flirting with a man like Clint. She watched as he slowly moved away from the door to walk toward her. And as if her feet had a mind of their own, they moved, and she found