“Don’t worry.” She lowered her voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

But that wasn’t what he was worried about. The charged atmosphere from before may have dissipated, but he wanted nothing more than to wind his finger around hers and yank her much, much closer.

Clamping down on the ridiculous urge, Tucker hooked his pinkie around hers. “Pinkie promise.” His voice was more unsteady than he wanted, and he unhooked his finger after no more than a cursory joining and forced himself to look out the window. Wiping at the fogged glass, he assessed the conditions outside as if he was conducting a meteorological survey. “Rain’s slowed to a patter. We should get back.”

She didn’t speak, and for long moments Tucker’s words hung in the air. He actually held his breath as he waited for her to say something.

“Sure. Okay.”

But Tucker didn’t breathe properly again until she’d moved back behind the wheel.

…

The kiss was all Della could think about the next morning at work. What had possessed her? She hadn’t planned on kissing Tucker. Sure, she’d thought waaay too much about doing just that on numerous occasions this past year, but it hadn’t been something she’d specifically set out to do when she got in his car. She’d just been going for a rainy-night driving lesson, which was a sensible, responsible thing to do when a person was learning to drive a car.

But it’d been dark and warm and secluded in that cab, and they were talking about kissing, and he was all big and strong, looking like Disneyland, the Kennedy Space Center, and Margaritaville all rolled into one. Looking at her like she wasn’t Arlo’s sister for once, and he never looked at her like that.

So she’d thrown caution to the wind and done it. Kissed him. Twice.

She wished she’d kissed him deeper now. Explored what he’d tasted like, stuck around long enough to see if he might make the kind of noise that had slipped from her throat completely of its own volition. If she’d known her window of opportunity was going to slam shut, she might have.

It was obvious from the mix of surprise and mortification in his expression that Tucker had been shocked at what had happened, and he’d made it very clear he was not up for any messing around.

I just don’t think about you like that.

That hadn’t felt good to hear. Add to that his non-opinion of her kisses, and Della was discouraged to say the least. But he had told her she looked sexy in her date dress in Denver last week, and he definitely had looked at her in a way last night he’d not done before.

She’d felt that look in her damn ovaries.