Lone Star Daddy (McCabe Multiples) by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page B

work.”
    His expression guarded, he studied her. “Why not?”
    Feeling hot color flush her cheeks, Rose enunciated as clearly as possible, “Because we have absolutely nothing in common.”
    He took her in his arms, reassuring her with a wink. His mouth hovered over hers. “We have this.”
    Rose had been telling herself she had imagined the impact of their first kiss. That it had been the surprise—coupled with the lack of romance in her life—that had left her reeling and wanting more. Even though she knew how very unwise that was.
    But now, with his lips seducing hers apart and his tongue tangling with hers, she couldn’t help but explore whatever this was turning out to be, at least a little more. She went up on tiptoe, wreathing her arms about his wide shoulders, even as he clasped her closer. Her breasts molded to the hardness of his chest. His arms wrapped around her middle, lifting her until their hearts beat in tandem. Lower still, there was a building pressure and a tingling that stole her breath.
    He wanted her. Fiercely. And she reveled in the strength of that demand. Yet she was smart enough to realize that if she let the reckless embrace continue, there would be nothing but heartache and regret for both of them.
    And she couldn’t have that. Hadn’t she already been hurt enough by her ex? Wasn’t she still paying for the ramifications of a relationship based solely on passion and little else?
    Furious that he’d seduced her into allowing herself to be so vulnerable—again—Rose pushed against Clint’s hard, muscular chest and tore her lips away.
    Reluctantly, he let her go.
    Struggling to regain her equilibrium, she took a step back and dragged in a shaky breath. “I’m not going to date you, Clint.”
    Skepticism mingled with the impatience on his handsome face. “Why not?” he asked gruffly.
    Ignoring the way he was studying her, she declared hoarsely, “Because I’m not available in the way a guy wants me to be.”
    His gaze roved her upturned face before returning to her eyes. “So you’re content to be alone?”
    Clearly, Rose noted, he did not believe it.
    “I have plenty of companionship, Clint.” With three children, five sisters, two parents and dozens of relatives, not to mention friends and business acquaintances in Laramie County, she was always surrounded by people.
    He came closer once again, dimples appearing on either side of his wide smile. “What about sex? And romance,” he chided softly. “Don’t you want that?”
    His low, husky murmur sent another waft of desire rippling through her. Blood roared through her veins. Yet nothing of import changed.
    The situation still was what it was.
    Rose swallowed to ease her parched throat. “It doesn’t matter what I want, Clint,” she said, trying to ignore the gleam of stark male interest in his eyes. “It matters what I can have. And that’s my kids and my business and nothing else.” Her brief foray into dating had shown her that.
    His expression turned calm, inscrutable. “Just two questions. How long have you been telling yourself this? And how much do you actually believe it?”
    * * *
    A S C LINT FIGURED , Rose had no answer for that. Thankfully, for her sake anyway, she was saved from having to answer him by the minivan heading up the drive. It had the McCabe Interiors logo on the side. Poppy was driving, and Rose’s three kids waved from their safety seats.
    Seeing them, Clint couldn’t help but grin.
    He had always wanted kids. A wife. A family. Even before the auto accident that claimed his parents’ lives and prompted his four sisters to leave the past behind, and seek their fortunes elsewhere. Now that he was back on the Double Creek, missing the family togetherness of his childhood, that yearning had intensified.
    “Hey, Mr. Clint!” the three kids yelled as soon as they were out of the vehicle. All three bounded up the porch steps.
    Clint offered high-fives, which they all spiritedly