Free The Cowboy's Surrender by Anne Marie Novark Page B

her reply.
     
    The pressure from his fingers electrified Gillian's whole body. What would it feel like to dance with him? To be held in those strong, muscled arms? Suddenly, she wanted to find out. They were in a public place. What could one little dance hurt?
     
    Harold glanced down at her. Gillian knew he didn't trust Dallas. He really believed the rancher was behind the sabotage attempts at the rig. But she wasn't totally convinced. Dallas McCade had a reputation as a hard working, honest man. Sarah Sue had told her all about him and his family a few days ago at the cafe.
     
    Giving into temptation, she stepped away from Harold. "Go back to the bar and talk to Ben. I'll be fine."
     
    "You sure? Why don't you come with me?" Harold eyed Dallas with contempt and suspicion. "You don't have to dance, you know."
     
    "You heard the lady," Dallas said. Taking Gillian in his arms, he whisked her away.
     
    Gillian glanced back at Harold, who shook his head as he walked away. Now that she was enclosed in the steely grip of Dallas's arms, she wasn't sure she'd made the right decision. Tiny shards of fear trickled down her spine, only to be obliterated by the forceful surge of sexual awareness spreading throughout her body. What was it about this man that could turn her on like no one else ever had?
     
    They danced in silence, the slow, sultry tune weaving in and around them. The dim light provided a cocoon of privacy, the other couples merely floated in the background.
     
    Dallas tightened his hold, fitting her closer to his body. Gillian's breasts pressed against the rock-hard muscles of his chest, her nipples instantly beading at the intimate contact.
     
    She raised her head and caught her breath. The blue eyes burned into hers with potent sexual hunger. When he dropped his gaze to her lips, Gillian involuntarily wet them with her tongue. An immediate shudder ran through Dallas's massive frame. The hard ridge behind the zipper of his jeans made her acutely aware of his intent.
     
    Dallas moved his hand upward, grasping a handful of hair, sliding his fingers through the silken strands to clutch the nape of her neck. He leaned his forehead against hers, locking eyes, breathing hard. His warm breath fanned her cheeks, smelling of beer and hot male desire.
     
    Gillian felt his thighs rub against hers with each movement of the dance. The tantalizing brush of denim against denim emphasized the restricted closeness of their two bodies. She almost moaned when a powerful urge to feel those thighs bare against hers teased her imagination.
     
    Burying her face in the crook of Dallas's shoulder, Gillian tried to control her breathing. Each time she inhaled, his musky scent assaulted her senses. Her legs quivered with reaction, barely strong enough to keep her from falling in a puddle at his feet. Or maybe it was his powerful arms preventing her from sinking to the floor.
     
    The hand on her neck screamed possession. An absolute right to be there. A long-forgotten, but familiar sensation pooled in the lower portion of her body. Gillian gulped back a sob. It had been so long, so damn long, since she'd felt like this.
     
    The music on the jukebox stopped, but the melody continued in the rhythm of Gillian's heartbeat. Suddenly, Dallas pulled away. She should say something, but words were beyond her. The dance had been both magical and disturbing. Dallas placed his hands on her shoulders and started to say something. After a long tense moment, he dropped his arms and shook his head. Turning abruptly, he left Gillian standing alone in the middle of the dance floor.
     
    She saw him speak briefly to a man near the pool tables. Without looking in her direction, Dallas left the bar.
     
    Gillian drew in a shaky breath. Blindly, she made her way back to Harold and Ben. It was like it had been in the cafe. He had rejected her presence then, he had rejected her now. This time it was worse. Much worse.
     
    She had been foolish to think one