Sarah's Surrender Page 4

  He slowly lifted his hand from her mouth but continued to hold her wrist in a firm grasp. His palm left her mouth and moved to her cheek, then to her scalp as his fingers fisted in her hair and held her trapped. The talk he wanted to have with her must have been secondary, because the moment his eyes fell to her lips she felt a groan shudder through his chest and then his mouth lowered to hers.

  The kiss didn’t start slow. There was no gentle seduction or slow exploration of his lips against hers. His mouth covered hers urgently and his tongue pushed inside and for a split second, Sarah was hit with the most all-consuming heat and relief that she’d ever felt in her life.

  The heat she understood was sexual; the relief she didn’t understand at all.

  That thought was quickly followed by the image of the redheaded woman in his arms not even an hour earlier.

  She began struggling against him when that image fought its way into her brain, and she lodged one free hand between them and pushed with all her might. She couldn’t get enough leverage to get away from him but she turned her head away and broke free from his mouth.

  He pulled her face back to his until they were staring at each other, both dragging in air. His fingers bit into her flesh, his jaw firmed and his head lowered as if to go back for more.

  “Don’t you dare kiss me with the taste of her still in your mouth!” Sarah cried in a voice gasping for oxygen.

  He wrapped his hands around her wrists and lifted them above her head, transferring them to one strong hand as he pushed his torso into hers. He lifted her chin another degree and glared down at her.

  “Try again, honey,” he said contemptuously. He took in a ragged breath and Sarah felt him swell against her stomach as he continued harshly, “Try bitching at me because you’ve got another man, one you’re supposedly engaged to.” Fury clouded his expression as his mouth tensed.

  Sarah’s breath hitched and with a realization that infuriated her, she knew that he was right. She hadn’t thought for one second about Randall, all she could think about was the other woman he’d kissed.

  She seethed with anger and humiliation, and with burning, reproachful eyes, stared up at him and remained silent.

  He studied her intently, all the while pushing against her, holding her to the door. “Did you lie to me?” he asked in an angry, gravelly voice.

  Sarah expelled a shallow pant of air as unwanted attraction practically consumed her whole. Her mind was so blown away with his touch that she could barely register his question. She had to concentrate. “About what?”

  His hand left her chin and with a jerk of her arm, he pulled her left hand down and stuck it in front of her face. “You don’t have a ring.” His voice was little more than a growl.

  Another jolt hit her nerves, and completely mortified that he could induce both fury and sexual hunger within her, she didn’t answer him quickly enough.

  The hand that encapsulated her wrist tightened and his chin jutted out. “You lied to me. You don’t have a ring, you’re not engaged.”

  She licked her lips and forced her mind to remember a man four hundred miles away and even further from her thoughts. She pushed the words past the constriction in her throat. “I didn’t lie. We’re newly engaged. The ring is being sized.”

  “Where’s he at?” He demanded an answer as if he had every right to know.

  “Dallas.”

  “He lives there?” he asked abruptly.

  “Yes.” Sarah refused to give him any more than the basic information he asked for.

  His nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed on her and his grip didn’t let up. “You need to break it off.”

  Astounded by his sheer nerve, her eyes widened and she breathed out a denial on a hiss of breath, “No.”

  “Yes,” he demanded as anger formed brackets around his mouth and he bared his teeth in barely suppressed restraint. She could actually feel his mood drop to mercurial levels.

  “You’re crazy,” she puffed out.

  “I’m not the crazy one.” With a strength that should have terrified her but had the opposite effect, he captured her hand above her head again where he contained it as it had been before. With one of his hands freed, he touched her throat first, pressing against her wind pipe in an unspoken sexual threat as his hot, liquid eyes held hers. Then he slid his palm down, slowly, between her breasts, down her stomach, and finally between her thighs where he cupped her heat with a boldness and arrogance that made her gasp out loud.

  Sarah just managed to continue breathing enough that she didn’t black out. The shock, the intimacy, the depth of the temptation she felt, caught her completely off guard.

  His head moved to her ear where she felt him take in a deep inhalation as if he were breathing in her scent. His lips were against her ear when he spoke with an incendiary heat of sexual threat. “I’m not crazy. You’re wet for me already, hon. If you think for one second I’m going to let some guy in Dallas dictate to me, you’re insane.” His palm pressed hard just in the right spot and Sarah’s eyes slipped closed as she felt sensations stronger than she’d ever felt before pierce her system.

  She struggled to stay upright and not sag against him as he continued to rub her, saying in a rattled hiss of words, “This heat I’m feeling is for me. You want me to fuck you just as damn bad as I want to fuck you. Otherwise you wouldn’t be pissed I kissed what’s her name, and your panties wouldn’t be so wet that I can smell your scent.”

  Sarah felt a pounding in her head as strong, sharp, sexual need took over her body and tried to control her mind. She could feel his erection boldly pressing into her stomach, but the impact of his libidinous words had a double effect on her.

  She took his primal message as a much needed reminder to stay away from him. She sucked in her breath and her throat closed up as she assimilated the shock of being told she wanted to fuck him. In the space of an instant, she compared his words and manner to that of the many different men she’d dated while living in Dallas.

  Dallas was an extremely sophisticated, cultured city, and the many dinners out, the soft candlelight and the suited men who had behaved like gentlemen, were a stark contrast to this man grabbing her and telling her that he made her panties wet.

  Oh, there was no doubt that he was the proverbial bad boy, and one like she’d never encountered before in her life. Her ex-husband didn’t hold a candle to the dangerous, almost feral, aggression that John possessed. This man’s personality, his attitude, even though over the top, held a persuasive compulsion that was a struggle to withstand.

  But withstand it, she would.

  She twisted her wrists free and pushed out of his arms and stumbled a few feet away as her brain, at least momentarily, won the fight over her body and she moved past him into the room as she tried to control the subtle quaking in her limbs.

  She slowly turned to face him and as he took a threatening step toward her, she raised her hand to ward him off. “Stay away from me.”

  He slowly stopped in his tracks, studied her for a few seconds, and then backed up against the closed door, leaned against it and folded his arms across his chest.

  Sarah took a deep breath into her lungs and felt temporary relief that he’d given her this respite and wasn’t moving toward her again.

  She rose to her fullest height and forced her throat to work. “I want you to leave me alone.”

  “No, you don’t,” he negated instantaneously.

  She felt her eyes flare as a tendril of panic shot through her. Surely, he’d give up. Wouldn’t he? He had to. “I’m engaged to another man, I don’t want to date you—I don’t want to sleep with you.” She stated her case in firm words.

  He disputed them immediately. “You want to sleep with me.”

  She slashed her hand through the air with frustration and cried, “I’m not going to sleep with you!”

  His face broke out into an arrogant grin that creased his eyes in the most appealing way. “There it is, honey—”

  Sh
e interrupted him in anger. “Don’t. Call. Me. Honey.”

  “I call everybody honey,” he said in a casual tone that Sarah didn’t think was casual at all.

  “I’m not everybody,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He raised one dark, diabolical eyebrow and paused before he continued, “you want to sleep with me, you just won’t let yourself. And you want me to call you something special, something that’s reserved for you alone.”

  “That’s crap,” she negated flatly.

  “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever you say, dream-girl.”

  Her teeth gritted as he supplied a new endearment off the top of his head. “I’m not your dream-girl, and don’t insult my intelligence by insinuating any such bullshit.”

  “You don’t think I’ve been dreaming about you?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Now that just hurts my feelings, you not trusting my word.” As he looked her up and down, his manner changed almost imperceptibly. With the space between them, his anger seemed to lessen and although still as forceful as before, his personality shifted into almost teasing. It was a dangerous combination to Sarah’s shaky defenses, and she found herself trusting him even less. His eyes raked her legs and then her chest before rising back to her face. “Granted, they’ve all been wet, but—” His voice trailed off as he waited for her reaction.

  It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Sarah’s spine stiffened. “Move away from the door. I’m leaving.”

  “Running back to what’s his face?” His words were a definite sneer.

  “My fiancé‘s name is Randall,” she stated with a conviction she was slowly beginning to doubt.

  “I get it. You’re not up for grabs.” Another dose of hostility seemed to shine from his eyes. “You’re going to try your sweet little best to be faithful, because you think you belong to him.”

  “I do belong to him.” She tried to sidle past him toward the door he stood blocking. Her anger rose to match his. “And even if I didn’t, I’d never belong to you.”

  His callused hand reached out and snatched up her wrist and held it in a tight, controlling grasp. “Now don’t go challenging me like that, dream-girl.” His thumb swirled against her skin and then began pressing against her pulse point and his countenance darkened as his eyes ran down her length. “I can tell you one thing. If you did belong to me, you damn sure wouldn’t leave the house dressed like that.” His eyes focused on the length of her legs.

  “No?” She punched the word out in a belligerent tone and she stiffened her elbow and used what force she could muster to put distance between their bodies.

  “Not a chance in hell.” His voice was deep and laced with an inborn arrogance.

  She raised her face to his and told him like it was. “I dress how I want and not you or anybody else will ever tell me what to do.”

  She boldly met his stare as his hand stayed wrapped around her wrist in a vise-like grip. “You want me to let you out of this room or not?” he asked in a menacing voice.

  “Yes!” she shouted.

  “Then stop goading me into doing something we’ll both regret.” He snapped the door open with a flick of his wrist. “Go, while I still have a mind to let you.”

  Sarah stared at him for a split second before she realized he’d let go of her wrist. Her body was still immobilized while her brain tried to compute he’d actually let go of her as she studied him. His eyes were so brown. A deep, dark brown. Her heart beat loudly in her veins as she wondered, against her will, if she’d ever see him again.

  She memorized his face quickly, and then she turned and walked from the room with as much control as she could muster.

  ****

  John banged his forehead against the closed door and barely suppressed a groan. One kiss. One goddamn kiss was all he’d gotten before she’d run. Aggravation licked down his spine. If he’d felt a burning need for her before tonight, it was only worse now.

  The thought of those legs. The memory of her awkward but totally appealing dance moves. That sweet mouth and the wet, silky heat she’d given him so easily.

  It was too much. He banged his head once more and let out a deep, frustrated groan. If he’d had hell not tracking her down after the first time he’d seen her, it would be almost impossible now.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself this time. He’d have to see her again. She couldn’t keep denying the attraction that burned like a wildfire between them.

  He couldn’t deny it.

  He wouldn’t.

  And he’d be damned if he let her get away from him.

  Chapter Three

  Three days later, Sarah pulled through a black wrought iron fence that was divided by a set of high stone columns and marked the entrance to the ranch owned by Phillip Johnson Garrett. Everything around her shouted money, and lots of it.

  The fields were succulent and green, and the long winding private road that led from the gate was blacktopped, as opposed to the red dirt track that ran through her own two-hundred acres. The difference from her almost-straightened circumstance was mind-boggling. Her rutted path at home had a fence running down the side of it that was falling down from weather and age. Her grandfather had built it himself. He’d used downed mesquite trees for fence posts, and the barbed-wire was rusted and loose from half a century of standing in the elements. The black wrought iron fencing used here was in stark contrast to what she was used to seeing every day.

  As she slowly pulled up in front of the house on the circular driveway, she took a deep breath and cut her engine. She hadn’t spoken to the man himself yet, only to his housekeeper when she had called and asked for the appointment.

  She stared at the wood and stone monolith that was his home, and silently prayed he was truly as generous as she’d been told.

  She inhaled deeply, picked up her purse, and prepared to put her heart on the line for what she believed was right.

  ****

  John tightened the spark plug on the old Jeep and grabbed a rag to wipe the grease from his hands before he answered his phone.

  “What?” He asked in a tone that was meant to be rude.

  “The lady from the school district is here,” his housekeeper, Beth Reynolds, answered. John knew she was all too used to ignoring his abrupt tone of voice.

  “What lady?”

  “I told you about her yesterday. She practically begged for an appointment,” she reminded him.

  “Duluth school district?” Confusion creased his brow. He’d just visited the school last week. What the hell could they want this damn soon?

  “No. Top Hill,” Beth answered him.

  Frustration gripped him just from hearing the name of that damn town. He didn’t want any reminders right now. He gritted his teeth. “Get rid of her.”

  “No sir, I will not,” Beth refused adamantly. “You get rid of her.”

  “I’m going to fire you some day,” he said to the older woman who’d worked for him for ten years and who had been spoiling him so rotten, he knew damn well he couldn’t do without her.

  “I’m going to quit some day,” she responded without hesitation. “Get your butt to the house and deal with her yourself. I don’t know why you agreed to see her if you didn’t want to.”

  “Because I’m a nice guy,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

  Beth made a doubtful noise. “Prove it. She seems pretty nervous.”

  “Well, that’s one point in her favor. Usually they’re as ballsy as all get out when they’re wanting my money.”

  “Be nice to her. You’d think she’s about to meet the Prince of Wales she looks so out of her depth.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute.” John cut the call and washed his hands in the sink. Aggravation swallowed him whole. If he had a damn foundation manager he wouldn’t have to be dealing with this right now. He wouldn’t have to deal with it at all.

  As he walked a
cross the compound toward the house, he felt like he was trying to chew up and swallow nails his frustration was so high. Knowing his housekeeper was right and he couldn’t annihilate the school district rep with his opening salvo, he temporarily gave up and pulled his lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette. As he inhaled the soothing relief of the tobacco, he wondered vaguely if he’d ever be able to quit.

  It was the one thing in his life he’d failed at. Repeatedly. Well, that and marriage. His marriage had been the ultimate mistake, and one he never intended repeating in his life.

  He clenched his jaw and tried to control the impatience running through his veins. He was already mad at the unknown woman. Just the fact she was from Top Hill and wanted his money were already two strikes against her.

  All he needed was to find the third, and baby, she was out.

  ****

  Sarah stood in Phillip Garrett’s office and tried to calm the nerves making her body tremble. She hadn’t been able to sit and calmly wait, so she looked around his office, and was now standing in front of a bookcase, studying his things.

  There were no personal pictures around, but there were framed photographs of an oilfield. The pictures captured the process of tapping the oil from beginning to end.

  So that was how he made his millions.

  She ran her eyes over the myriad pieces on his bookshelf. He had a collection of very old tools on display. They weren’t polished and gleaming, most of them possessed a very old patina of rust and aged wood.

  Many of the items were unknown to her, but she recognized a tape measure that had to be sixty years old. Her eyes skimmed past it and landed on a rectangular piece of wood about sixteen inches in length. It still carried dirt on it, where someone had probably dropped it in a field years ago and left it there. The wood was marked from years of use, and Sarah recognized the tool for what it was. A level. A simple carpenter’s tool. Except it wasn’t simple at all. It had to be almost a century old. Or older. She picked it up and studied it, even as a hint of guilt at touching his things went through her. She’d always loved old things. She loved old books, old furniture and old quilts. She didn’t really care if the things were actually antique or not, just holding them and thinking about the people who had used them in their everyday lives was fascinating to her. Every piece seemed to have a story to tell.