Magnolia Dawn by Erica Spindler

going on.
    A kiss, Anna thought, disgusted with herself. They’d shared a kiss; nothing else was going on.
    Macy held tightly to Anna’s arm as they descended the steps and crossed to the drive. “There’s somethin’ mighty familiar about that boy.”
    Anna shook her head. “I don’t know what it could be. He just arrived in Ames three weeks ago.”
    â€œPowerful handsome.”
    Anna flushed. “I hadn’t noticed.”
    Macy chuckled and let Anna help her into the battered old sedan. Once settled, the older woman looked at Anna in knowing amusement. “Child, if that man doesn’t set your panties on fire, you ain’t alive.”
    â€œMacy!”
    The older woman chuckled again. “I’ve lived too long and seen too much to pitty-pat around the truth. You need a man, an’ there’s a good one right under your nose.”
    Beside Macy, Brady sighed, rested his head against the seat back and closed his eyes. Anna bit back a smile. Like she did, Brady knew from experience that when Macy had a point to make, there was no rushing her.
    â€œFirst of all, Macy, I don’t `need’ a man, and secondly, how did we go from `be careful’ to `snag him quick’ with nothing more than an introduction? You don’t know anything about him.”
    â€œBut I do.” She folded her big hands primly in her lap. “You can tell a lot about a man from his eyes. And smile. I can tell that this is a good one.”
    Anna made a sound of exasperation. “Macy—”
    â€œMark my words, child, and don’t let him get away.”
    â€œYou drive me crazy, you know that?” Anna bent and pressed a kiss to Macy’s soft, dark cheek. “But I love you anyway.”
    Macy’s eyes filled. “I love you, too, sugar sweet.”
    After exchanging a few pleasantries with Brady, Anna watched the two drive off. When the car disappeared from sight, she turned to Ashland.
    And Rush.
    Face him now, she told herself. Now, while feeling buoyed by Macy’s visit. Confront the situation head-on.
    Calling herself a coward, Anna turned and went around to the back door.
    * * *
    Rush stood just beyond Ashland’s circle of light. He gazed up at the house, at the bright but empty windows, and thought of Anna. Passionate and pliant in his arms, her cheeks hot with arousal, her lips, soft and parted, moist from his kisses.
    She was different from any woman he’d ever known. She was smart and strong, not afraid of doing any job she had to, even one usually reserved for men. Yet at the same time she was soft, insecure, and as she’d been this afternoon, heartbreakingly vulnerable.
    The women he’d known in the past had been as brash, as confident in their sexuality, as he. They’d taken the initiative in matters of the heart, going after whatever—or whomever—they wanted.
    Anna was neither brash nor confident when it came to her sexuality. She kept herself, her emotions, in check; she guarded her thoughts and feelings as carefully as a mother guarded her newborn.
    But this afternoon she’d been honest about what she felt in his arms. She hadn’t tried to hide or pretend; she’d allowed her guard to slip away and reveal the woman she really was.
    Until she’d run.
    Lightning streaked across the sky above him; thunder rumbled behind it. Rush tipped his face toward the dark sky. The storm grew closer yet remained just out of reach, its passion held uneasily in check. The charged air was unnaturally still with waiting, the night unbearably hot.
    Rush slipped his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and returned his gaze to Ashland. Unrelieved desire still clung to him, as heavy and hot as the night air. He wanted her still, with a ferocity that had him wondering just what the hell was happening to him.
    He wasn’t a stranger to women or sex. He’d learned long ago that he was a passionate man, one who