The Maverick Part 6

He came out a moment later, hair brushed and fresh shorts on.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she asked.

"Notice what?"

"That you changed your clothes. The gra.s.s stains are gone."

He grinned. "You don't miss much, do you?"

"Nope."

"The gra.s.s stains were bad enough, but some other unknown substance was a little sticky. Will you forgive me if I promise to buy some flip-flops tomorrow?"

"It's a deal," she said. "May I use your bathroom for a minute?"

"Of course. I'll check the paper for the starting time."

Using his bathroom wasn't the smartest thing Ca.s.s ever did. His scent surrounded her, tantalizing her as she freshened her makeup and brushed out her hair. She washed her hands and made a quick retreat.

Still, the moment she saw him sitting on the couch and studying the paper, she had the strongest urge to s.n.a.t.c.h away the entertainment section and pin him to the cus.h.i.+ons.

She restrained herself.

"We've got twenty minutes to get there," he said. "Think we can make it?"

"If we jog, we can be there in five minutes. Race you." She turned and bolted.

"You're on," he said, slamming his hand against the door before she could open it. "The race starts outside."

Downstairs, he politely allowed her to pa.s.s through the automatic doors ahead of him, but she didn't wait for a starting gun. She was off.

Griff caught up easily, but stayed beside her as they jogged down the wide sidewalk that led to the capitol building on the hill.

They turned on Sixth Street and stopped in front of an old movie theater in the nightclub-restaurant area. Ca.s.s was breathing hard, but Griff wasn't even winded. Irritating.

"Is this it?"

"This is it."

He patted his back pocket, then scowled. "d.a.m.n. I left my wallet in my other shorts. Wait here and I'll run back for it."

"No need. I have my emergency fund." She pulled out the small folder that held her driver's license, a credit card and a hundred-dollar bill. "Tonight's on me."

"Do you have enough to buy a hot dog? I'm hungry."

"M'dear, I have plenty, but let's have something better than a hot dog. The Alamo Drafthouse is literally a dinner theater. We can have a full meal while we watch the movie."

"Really?"

"Yep." She bought their tickets, and they went inside. "This one is the Alamo Ritz, named after the original theater."

The place was laid out like a regular cinema except that every other row of seats had been removed and replaced with a long table. They found a spot easily enough, and Ca.s.s joined in the sing-along being conducted from the stage. She hadn't been here in ages, and she'd always adored the place.

Griff looked through the menu. "What's good here?"

"Just about everything. I've always loved their appetizers. Want to start with some nachos and frozen margaritas?"

"Sure. How about some wings, too?"

"Sounds good."

After they ordered, Ca.s.s goaded him into singing along with the crowd. Actually, he had a very nice baritone voice, and soon he was belting out "I'm an old cowhand..." while they put their heads together and harmonized.

While they watched Butch and Sundance, they drank margaritas, munched on nachos, wings and fish tacos, and yelled out, along with the crowd, the most famous lines in the script or comments to the screen characters.

This was the Austin she loved.

WHEN THE FILM WAS OVER, they walked back to Griff's hotel arm in arm, laughing and talking about the movie and the whole day.

"I don't remember when I've had so much fun as I've had this trip to Austin," Griff said.

"And why is that?" Ca.s.s asked with an exaggerated fluttering of her eyelashes.

He grinned and tousled her hair. "I think you've had a lot to do with that. And I do love this town. My blood pressure must have dropped twenty points since I stepped off the plane at Bergstrom Airport."

"I can relate to that. New York is a nice place to visit, but I'll always want to live in Austin. There's something in the air that makes it special. I think the reason we've grown so much in the past few years is students and visitors who come to town never want to leave. We have lots of waiters in town with master's degrees."

When they arrived at his hotel, Griff asked, "Want to come up?"

"I'll have to. I left my purse in your room." Freudian slip? Freudian slip? she wondered. she wondered.

Of course not, her practical side said. her practical side said.

Of course, her libido declared. her libido declared.

After Griff unlocked his door, he asked, "Shall I order up a bottle of wine, or do you want to check the mini fridge first?"

Dare she stay for a drink? The smart thing to do would be to grab her purse and hotfoot it home.

Chapter Seven.

Maybe it would be smart to leave, but Ca.s.s's credo had always a.s.serted smart wasn't always the most fun. She had a powerful yen for Griffin Mitch.e.l.l, and the margaritas had dulled her inhibitions. This might be the perfect opportunity to discover if he was everything her imagination had him cracked up to be.

Of course, all she could think of on the way up in the elevator was that she'd been tromping around in the bluebonnets half the day, gorging on Mexican food, and probably smelled worse than a goat. She couldn't quite say, Hey, if we're going to have a romp in the hay, could I take a shower and brush my teeth first? Hey, if we're going to have a romp in the hay, could I take a shower and brush my teeth first?

Or could she?

No way. She was a modern woman, but she wasn't that that modern. She'd always been too cautious for casual s.e.x. And, truthfully, she was a closet romantic. It had been a long time since she'd had s.e.x of any kind. She hadn't met anybody who'd lit her boilers until Griff came along. modern. She'd always been too cautious for casual s.e.x. And, truthfully, she was a closet romantic. It had been a long time since she'd had s.e.x of any kind. She hadn't met anybody who'd lit her boilers until Griff came along.

"You're very quiet," he said. "Tired?"

"No. In fact, I'm kind of jazzed."

"Me, too. I was just thinking a dip in the pool would feel great. Too bad you don't have a suit. I wonder if the gift shop downstairs has any?"

Perfect solution to her dilemma, Ca.s.s thought. A nice swim, a shower...ahhh. "I'm sure they do." "I'm sure they do."

"Let's check." When the elevator door opened on his floor, Griff punched the b.u.t.ton down to the lobby.

In the gift shop, he zeroed on a red patterned bikini. Ca.s.s checked the tag. It was her size, but the price on it was ridiculous.

He must have caught her frown. "My treat," he said. "Payback for the day."

She didn't argue. Nor did she protest when he handed a matching cover-up and slides to the clerk and charged the purchase to his room. After all, she suspected Griff could easily afford it. If he'd been on a budget, he would have been at Motel 6 instead of in a lake-view suite at the most expensive hotel in town. Too, she thought, he was macho enough to want to make up for her having to foot the bill for the evening's expenses. Men were sometimes goofy like that.

Back upstairs, he insisted that she take the bathroom while he changed in the living room. Ca.s.s took time for a quick shower and put on her new suit. It was a perfect fit, but a tiny bit of her appendectomy scar showed. Although it had faded considerably since she was fourteen and she rarely thought about it, she was suddenly very self-conscious. Why hadn't she chosen a one-piece as she usually did?

She sighed. Oh well. If a scar turned Griff off, so be it. What was, was. She pulled on her cover-up, stepped into her slides and grabbed a couple of towels and terry robes as she left the bathroom.

Griff smiled when she came out. "Ready?"

"Yep. Let's. .h.i.t that pool."

They went down the elevator again.

"I heard you taking a shower," he said. "I must smell like a goat."

She giggled-and couldn't stop. They'd both had goats on their mind.

"Am I really that bad?" he asked.

"Not at all."

"Then what's so funny?"

Ca.s.s giggled again. "I'd been thinking the same thing about me earlier."

He threw an arm around her neck and gave her a peck on the nose. "You certainly don't smell like a goat. You smell like...bluebonnets."

"For your information, bluebonnets don't smell."

He grinned. "Neither do you."

"Is the pool indoor or outdoor?"

"Outdoor, but it's heated so the water should be perfect."

And it was. The full moon s.h.i.+mmered over the lake, just visible between the trees lining the sh.o.r.e, and sparkled on the surface of the pool.

"It's like swimming in moonbeams," Ca.s.s said as she did a slow b.r.e.a.s.t.stroke across the water.

"I arranged it just for you," Griff said, pacing himself beside her.

She laughed. "Yeah, sure. But it is nice. And we have the whole pool to ourselves." She glanced up at the bank of hotel windows. "And whoever is playing voyeur inside."

She changed to a fast crawl, and still Griff kept pace. When she reached the edge of the pool, she grabbed on and wiped the water from her face.

"You're a regular otter," he said, catching hold with both hands so that she was pinned.

"I love swimming, but I haven't had much opportunity lately. This is a fantastic pool."

"You're welcome to come anytime you'd like." He moved his face closer to hers, then touched her lips with his.

Desire shot through her. If she'd done what she wanted to, they would probably have drowned. Plus the voyeurs would have had an eyeful.

His tongue played over her lips and the pressure of his mouth deepened. Maybe drowning wasn't such a bad way to go, and to h.e.l.l with whoever was watching. Her arms went around his neck, her legs around his waist, and she returned his kiss with all the pent-up pa.s.sion in her. Warm morphed into scorching until she was sure the water around her boiled.

He groaned and reached for the ties to her bikini top. She clung tighter to him.

"Ahem!" a voice said. "Ahem!"

They both looked up to see a man standing nearby. "I'm sorry, but the pool is closing."

"But we just got here," Griff said, his voice hoa.r.s.e.

"Sorry, sir, but it's eleven o'clock. Perhaps you would be more comfortable...in your room." The attendant grinned and winked.

Ca.s.s felt herself turn a thousand shades of red. What in the world was she thinking? That was the problem. She hadn't been thinking. Another couple of minutes and she'd have been stripped in front of G.o.d and everybody.

"I could die," she murmured.

"Don't do that," Griff whispered. "I have better things in mind, and I'm not into necrophilia."

She made sure her bikini top was tied, and hoisted herself from the pool. They quickly rinsed off, toweled themselves dry and donned terry robes. Ca.s.s barely had time to step into her slides before Griff grabbed her hand and dragged her inside.

In the empty elevator he took her into his arms again, and she melted like warm chocolate against him. Every cell in her body was on high alert. Her brain was a bowl of tapioca, and she ached with yearning. She'd never felt so out of control. She didn't care if she barely knew this man; she only cared that she wanted him in the worst way. Longing filled her mind and throbbed in her body. Reason was overwhelmed by primal urges stronger than anything she'd ever experienced before. For once, she didn't want to think; think; she wanted to she wanted to feel. feel. She needed to feel again. She needed to feel again.

When the bell dinged, Griff seemed to come to his senses enough to exit and pull her after him. He fumbled with the key card until the door opened. Robes and bathing suits went flying, and they barely made it to the couch before Griff was on top of her, kissing, caressing, moaning. She responded to his every move, frantic with desire, urging him to enter.