Free Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin by Emily McKay

guess. Is he going to ask?”
    “He might. He gave me hell a year ago when he found out I’d moved out.”
    What was she supposed to say to that? She’d never lost a spouse. So she could only imagine how he felt. How torn he must be, unable to move back into the house he’d shared with his wife, unwilling to sell it. Still, it wasn’t her business or her place.
    “You should call me then.” He quirked an eyebrow in question,so she explained. “I’m a horrible liar. If you call me now, then I can at least tell him that and pretend I was never here.”
     
    Ward nearly laughed at Ana’s statement. Her words were so blandly practical, he couldn’t help but be amused. And yet, the sentiment seemed perfectly in-line with everything he knew about her. Once again, her stunning combination of exotic lush beauty and straitlaced practical clothing was a dichotomy he found all too appealing.
    She wore a black-and-white houndstooth jacket cinched tight around her waist. She had an oversize leather tote slung over her shoulder. Once the door was closed behind her, she loosened the belt of her jacket to reveal slim black pants and a white business shirt that looked slightly rumpled after a day’s wear. He found himself wanting to unbutton it to see what she had on beneath it.
    He wanted to close the distance between them and tug loose her hair so that it tumbled around her shoulders. He wanted to run his hands through it and bury his nose in it. He ached to find out if her skin still held that intriguing combination of vanilla and cinnamon. If she still smelled like snickerdoodles.
    And more than any of that, he wanted to kiss her. To feel her lips, hot and wet beneath his. To kiss her until her irritation turned to surprise and then keep on kissing her until that turned to desire. Until she wanted him with the same deep pounding need that he wanted her.
    But of course, the one thing he didn’t want to do was alienate her. Which kissing her would certainly do. Forget stripping her naked and lavishing her body with kisses.
    Now, she was looking at him suspiciously. Little wonder since he was taking so long to respond. Instead of replying right away, he crossed into the kitchenette and pulled another tumbler from the cabinet.
    He held it up in a gesture. “Do you drink tequila?”
    She gave him a you’re-an-idiot look, followed by a brief nod. “I mean, I don’t do shots on a regular basis or anything. ButI’ve lived most of my life in Southern California. Pretty much everyone drinks tequila on occasion.”
    “Good point.” He poured himself a finger and then one for her. He nudged hers across the counter.
    She took a ladylike sip, a testament to her previous experience with Gran Patron. It was a sipping tequila.
    He nodded in approval, then raised the glass in a silent toast and took a drink of his own, relishing the sharp burn down his throat. Then he set the tumbler down.
    There was a part of him that wanted to tell her outright how much he wanted her. It was the same part of him that wanted to bend her over the table and plow into her right now. But he didn’t think either technique would fully satisfy him. Instead, he started talking. Doing what he did best. Seducing her with the sound of his voice and his ability to weave a story.
    “When you’re a musician,” he began. “Everybody wants to buy you drinks. Club owners, fans, other musicians. Right or wrong, I’ve been drinking tequila since I was fifteen. A lot of it is pretty nasty stuff. It’s why you do shots, with salt and lime.” He picked up his tumbler again and held it up so the light from the pendant over the bar shone through the glass. The liquid was as clear as water. Only the astringent sting of it in his nose indicated its seductive power. “But Gran Patron, it’s the best sipping tequila in the world. You don’t drink it in shots. You linger over it. You savor it.”
    In turn, she lifted her glass, took another sip and let it slide down her