Lone Star Santa by Heather MacAllister Page A

blame him, but his lack of concern and utter faith in Jeremy worried her.
    Without removing his hands from the steering wheel, Mitch indicated the dozens of restaurants and clubs lining Richmond Avenue as they drove past. “Do you see any place—”
    “Tex-Mex!” Kristen pointed. “There. That one. It’sbeen forever since I’ve had good Tex-Mex food. It’s just not the same in California.” And, no, she wasn’t just thinking of the sushi salsa place.
    “I guess it wouldn’t be,” Mitch murmured as he turned into the restaurant parking lot.
    “Mmm, queso . Chips. Salsa.” She affected an accent. “Margareeeeetas.”
    “ Si, señorita .” His accent was better than hers.
    He’d probably paid attention in Spanish class.
    Kristen inhaled the scent of peppers and cumin and fried onions when they got out of the car. “I’m thinkin’ fajitas for two,” she said.
    “I’m thinkin’ they’d better be at least half beef,” Mitch said. “There is no such thing as a chicken fajita, I don’t care what they say.”
    “Tell you what, if you spring for extra queso , we can order all beef.”
    “Deal.” He shrugged out of the leather jacket. “I do believe you just managed to salvage this evening.”
    Unfortunately not for long, Kristen thought as she started toward the restaurant. Before they left, she had to convince him that he, well, that he owned a strip club for drag queens. How many margaritas would that take? She’d better plan on driving home.
    “Hang on.” Mitch caught up to her and draped the jacket over her shoulders.
    “You were serious about me wearing the jacket inside?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Kristen looked down at herself. “I know I’ve skipped a few crunches.” She poked at her exposed stomach, which yielded alarmingly. “Okay, I’ve skipped a lot ofcrunches. But I didn’t think I looked that bad.” But definitely squishy.
    Mitch pulled the edges of the jacket closed. They fell open again. He sighed. “You do not look bad. And you know it. But you do not fully appreciate how approachably hot you look. Men will want to approach. We do not want them to do that because then I would have to convince them to go away. But by this time, they will be gazing at you lustfully and will not want to go away. They will want to prove that they are the more worthy male by eliminating the competition—that would be me. Since I don’t want to be eliminated, I would put up a good fight, but I’d rather eat fajitas and drink margaritas in peace.”
    She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand that sent the coat slithering off her shoulder. “You make everything too complicated. How ’bout I just kick ’em in the nuts?”
    “How about you put your arms in the sleeves?”
    He held the collar until she pushed her arms through the sleeves. Warmth—his warmth—settled around her making her feel protected and cherished. It was a nice change from the self-involved men she’d gone out with in Los Angeles. It hadn’t mattered then because she’d been self-involved, too.
    Kristen dipped her nose to the lining of the collar and breathed in the faint smell of shaving cream mixed with an earthier scent…cigar?
    Kristen jerked her head up. Cigar. Her father’s cigar. And probably her father’s shaving cream, too. Ew. No. Not while she was having warm fuzzy feelings forMitch. Not good, not good. People went into therapy to get over less.
    “Is it too late to change my mind about the dark side?” He lowered his voice suggestively. “You look like you’re naked under that coat.”
    Her brain was going to explode.
    “This is my father’s coat. Thank you so much for saying that.” Mitch was right, unfortunately. She could see her reflection in the window. Bare neck and miles of legs sticking out from the coat. Yeah. Her legs were still her best feature.
    “I think it’s pretty funny,” he said, opening the door.
    “No. No it’s not. I tell you, I’m scarred for life.”
    Laughing, Mitch