Always a McBride

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Authors: Linda Turner
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visit with her friends while he worked. In no way, shape or form, could that be considered a date.
    So why did it feel like one?
    Frowning at the thought, Phoebe told herself to grab something from the closet, anything. It didn’t matter what she wore—she didn’t have a date! She was just having dinner with some old friends and a guest who wasn’t the least bit interested in her. And that was fine. She wasn’t trying to attract his attention or look pretty for him. She could throw on anything decent, pull a brush through her hair, and she was good to go. No problem.
    But knowing that and doing it were two different things. Every time she reached for something simple and comfortable, she found her hand drifting, instead, to something a little nicer, something soft and feminine that brought out the blue of her eyes. It was damned irritating.
    Frustrated, she muttered, “You’re running out of time, Phoebe. Pick something!”
    Closing her eyes, she grabbed the first hanger her fingers touched and told herself she would wear it regardless of what it was. When she opened her eyes to discover that it was one of her favorite blouses—and one of the most feminine ones she owned—she hesitated. It was a soft, gauzy material, with frilly capsleeves and a little bit of lace at the neck, and it looked good with anything, including jeans, which she’d intended to wear tonight to Joe’s. It was, however, also a date blouse, something that she felt pretty and feminine in and men generally noticed. The question was, did she want Taylor to notice?
    When she hesitated, she knew she was in trouble. She had to be losing her mind. He was cold and unfriendly and angry. Why would she want a man like that to notice her? Afraid to go there, she pulled the blouse off the hanger and hurriedly slipped it on. This was ridiculous. It was just a blouse. She wasn’t going to beat herself up wondering if she’d made the right choice.
    By the time she came downstairs ten minutes later, she was sure she was ready to face Taylor. She’d tied her hair back in a neat ponytail and applied a minimal amount of makeup. She didn’t even wear lipstick—lip gloss was all she needed for dinner with friends. Then she found Taylor waiting for her in the parlor.
    She took one look at him and felt her mouth go dry. After seeing him last night when he’d managed to look incredibly handsome even dripping wet from a thunderstorm, she’d thought he couldn’t possibly find a way to look any better. She’d been wrong. He’d showered and shaved, and sometime over the course of the afternoon, he’d found the time to get his dark hair cut. It was his clothes, however, that created such a change in his appearance. Instead of the expensive business clothes he’d worn last night, he’d changed to khakis and a white polo shirt that, while still of high quality, were much more casual.
    He almost looked approachable, she thought. Now if he would just relax and smile.
    For a moment, she thought he was going to do justthat. The corner of his mouth twitched as his eyes met hers, and she found herself holding her breath. Then he obviously thought better of it. Lifting a brow at her, he merely said, “Ready?”
    Disappointed—and more than a little annoyed with herself for being so—she should have said of course, she wasn’t ready! He looked too good, smelled too good, and in the small confines of her car, neither of them would be able to move without the other being aware of it. It was time to call the whole thing off.
    But when she opened her mouth, she was horrified to hear herself say, “Just let me lock up.”
    It won’t be so bad, a voice in her head assured her. It’s not that far to Twin Pines and all you have to do is concentrate on the ranch and your driving. You’ll be there before you know it, and tomorrow, he’ll have a rental car and

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