Killian (The Sons of Dusty Walker Book 3) by Desiree Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

her home. The romance novels she devoured painted erotic scenes in her mind and a longing for the kind of romantic adventures the authors wrote about.
    And she didn’t need to have her bedroom looking like a suitcase threw up all over it. Finally settling on a red skirt that swirled around her legs, a silk-print blouse that showed off her breasts to best advantage, and a pair of strappy, high-heeled red sandals, she swept everything else into a pile and shoved it into her closet.
    Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she made a final pass at her hair and makeup and sprayed on a little more jasmine cologne.
    Just in time for the knock on her door.
    Don’t leap on him the minute you see him.
    She opened the door and went weak in the knees. Tonight he wore black dress pants, a black silk shirt, and his Stetson. Lordy, but the man looked like sex on wheels in black. His clothes enhanced his lean muscular frame, his wide shoulders, and his long legs. But what really got her was the expression in his eyes, as if he was mentally undressing her and licking every inch of her body.
    She shivered with suppressed delight.
    “Ready?” His lips curved in a smile lethal in its intensity.
    “I am.” She stepped out onto the platform, pulled the door shut, and locked it. Then she glanced up at him and smiled. “More than.”
    His eyes darkened. “Me, too.” Then, as if pulling himself back to reality, he offered his arm. “Shall we go?”
    “Absolutely.”
    She was glad she’d decided on Maximilian’s. It had a warm, old-world charm, an elegant feel with the crystal chandeliers, white linen tablecloths, and crystal goblets. The thick carpet silenced footsteps, and classical music played faintly in the background. But the best part was it was located in the next county, and it was a weeknight, so they were not too likely to run into people they knew.
    “Not exactly what I was expecting out here in—” He stopped. “Out here.”
    “Go on,” she teased. “Out here in Hicksville, right?”
    He laughed; the rich full sound made her panties dampen and her nipples tingle. Lord, it seemed everything this man did had an erotic effect on her. She just hoped she hadn’t misread him and he was as anxious for this as she was. He certainly was giving off those signals. But she also knew he was a man who respected women. Whatever he might want, he’d wait for a signal from her.
    Tonight, she would give it loud and clear.
    “Actually,” he told her, “even in Montana we have really nice restaurants, even in small towns. My mother made sure I learned to eat properly in public and not pick my teeth at the table.”
    Lexie giggled. “I’ll bet you did that as a kid.”
    “I did a lot of things as a kid I got my hide tanned for. I think my mother was afraid I’d grow up to be a heathen and a bum.”
    She tilted her head. “What’s your mother like? And I’m asking not because of her relationship with Dusty, but because I really want to know. I want to know about you. ”
    “Well, let’s see.” He waited while the waiter placed their drinks on the table—wine for her, bourbon and water for him—before he went on. “Her family came over from Ireland. I guess you could figure it was in the blood somewhere when you heard the name Killian.”
    “What’s her name?”
    “Mairi. It means of the sea. Which is a little odd, considering her family lived in the mountains of Montana.”
    “How did she get there?”
    “Her ancestors came over in the nineteenth century, from what she told me. I’m not even sure of the entire story, but she was fourth generation.” He laughed. “Her great-grandfather liked to call himself an Irish cowboy.”
    “They really liked the West?”
    He nodded. “They did. As if they were born to it, from what I know.”
    “And Killian? What does your name mean?”
    “Well,” he drawled, “the Urban Dictionary says it means ‘a kid who doesn’t take shit from anyone.’”
    “And is it