Brent's Law (8 page)

He nodded. “Your life, yes, but not you. What makes you happy? What makes you cry? Do you like sports or are you a couch potato?”

“Wow, so many questions.” She held her finger in the air in a mock ‘light bulb’ moment. “Tell you what, why don’t we play tit for tat? I answer one of your questions and you return the favor.”

“I don’t play games.”

“No? So what are we doing now? This”—she circled her hand in the air—“can’t lead anywhere except for a nice holiday romp in the hay.”

“True, but it still isn’t a game to me.” He smiled indulgingly. “But I’ll play along with one condition.”

“Yes?”

“You can’t avoid the questions and you have to answer honestly.”

“That’s two conditions.” Blood rushed in her ears, but she forced her heart rate to settle. There was no way he could know about her varsity years. The other questions she could handle.

He raised his eyebrows.

“All right, I’ll play.” She reclined in the chair.

“Why study law?”

Damn, damn and double damn.
Trust him to ask the one question she didn’t want to answer. At least not honestly. She bit her lip. Maybe she could fabricate some ghastly story from her childhood so he wouldn’t think she was too pathetic.

“The truth, remember.”

This was going to sound so cliché, but for the life of her, she couldn’t come up with a way to make it sound better. She inhaled then exhaled slowly.

“I studied pharmacy at first, but then my boyfriend at the time studied law and it sounded so much more sophisticated than boring chemistry. I convinced my parents I had a yearning for the law. When we broke up, some of the glamour of studying law faded. Pathetic, I know, but when you’re young and think you’re in love, not even an earthquake can convince you of the error of your ways.”

“But you’re good at it.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I love it.” She traced the rim of her cup with her finger. “It might have been the most pathetic and juvenile motive for studying the dusty volumes of law, but in the end it was the right decision for me.”

He nodded. “Your turn.”

She ached to ask him about Amber, but swallowed the question. Just because he’d inadvertently stumbled upon her most embarrassing moment, didn’t allow her to put him on the spot.

“Why do you still play rugby when you know you can get hurt?” She pointed at his leg.

“I love the structure of the game. You pit yourself against your opponents, both physically and mentally, and when you are triumphant…” He shrugged. “Only sex rivals the euphoria you experience.”

“But is it worth getting injured like you did?”

He nodded. “Absolutely. You can get injured playing tennis. Granted the risk of injury is greater playing rugby, but you can’t live your life constantly worrying about getting hurt.”

She couldn’t hide her smile. “And when you’re too old to play?”

“I’ll support the teams. I know a rugby player’s lifespan is short and I’ve often considered retiring, but my life doesn’t revolve around rugby alone.”

“You’ve considered retirement? But you’re what? Twenty-six?”

“You have to be realistic. Every day the competition to stay on the teams gets tougher. I don’t want to end up a broken old man because I didn’t know when to quit.”

She inhaled, but he held up his hand. “My turn.”

“Okay, fire.”

He pushed his plate away. “Let’s go for a walk. I need the exercise and though we’re in the Lowveld, the nights can get chilly.”

Before she could answer, he rose and held out his hand. Her hand disappeared into his as if it were the most natural thing to do. For the rest of the afternoon, he educated her on the Bushveld and the animals residing within. At least she learnt the crying baby was indeed a Trumpeter Hornbill, common in the area.

She also learnt he’d been hell on wheels as a child and he had been no stranger to emergency rooms. One particular motorcycle accident when he was a teenager had left him with a cracked femur and hipbone.

“Aren’t those injuries at greater risk to reoccur with the impact of playing rugby?”

He shrugged. “Maybe, but the injuries healed well enough for me to have a clean bill of health to play. The residual damage from the injury was much worse and irreparable, so a few broken bones are the least of my concerns.” A flash of pain shot across his face, but it was gone so quickly she thought she might have imagined it.

Besides owning the sugar cane fields, he managed a successful export business and, except for receiving start-up capital, he never used his family’s money to make his own. He’d repaid the start-up capital within the first year of operating his own business. From the balance sheets in the divorce case, she knew just how wealthy he was and her admiration for Brent grew. Contrary to popular belief, this man worked his tail off to ensure his own success.

When dusk fell, she was deliciously tired from their walk and the unusual amount of exercise she’d had during the afternoon. After a light dinner, he drew her onto the couch in the lounge.

Her back rested against his chest and the warmth and security of his arm hugging her, forced her eyes shut.

“What attracted you to a woman as old as me?”

“Does your age matter? Do you still see me in terms of age?”

Did she? When had she last thought about the age difference between them? “No, I don’t. I’m simply trying to understand why you would want me, when you could have any supermodel in the country and outside at your beck and call.”

“I guess I’m simply not attracted to them. When I saw you in the office, I knew I needed to have you.”

“It couldn’t be so simple. Nothing in life is ever uncomplicated.”

He stroked her hair. “It is, if you allow it to be.”

They watched the darkness fall in silence and she rested her head against his shoulder. Under her palm, the coarse hair on his forearm was emphasized by gooseflesh and she suppressed an involuntary shiver.

“Let’s get to bed. Tomorrow I want to show you the plantations and the best time is at daybreak.”

He pulled her up, but didn’t let her go. Instead, he pulled her against him, circled her head with his hand and captured her lips in his. The kiss had nothing of the morning’s ardor, but was achingly sweet. When he let her go, he tugged a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave a lopsided grin.

“As much as I want to promise you a repeat of this morning, I’m afraid my leg has caught up with me.”

She smiled. “Wow, a man not afraid to admit he can’t take the punch. Stop the presses.”

His eyes crinkled and his laugh reverberated through the room, turning her insides to mush. She sobered immediately. Mush was no good. Mush meant emotions she couldn’t afford.

“Get your ass into bed. Your libido will survive a couple of hours without feeding and so will mine.”

Later when she crawled into bed beside him, her heart contracted. He pulled her toward him and enveloped her in his warmth. He buried his face in her neck.

“Hmm, you smell nice.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She gently pushed at his shoulders. “Now get some sleep, big boy. We don’t want to jeopardize your recovery any more than we already have.”

He grinned. “I’ll make you eat those words soon.”

“What? That I want you to recover?” The innocence in her voice might have been convincing if she didn’t have a lump clogging up her throat.

He stroked her hair. “Thanks for coming with me, for being here.”

She managed a nod before she turned around and forced him onto his other side. He settled after she flattened her ridiculously small frame against the back of his much larger one. She buried her nose in his skin, inhaling the pure, unadulterated male smell, and the mushiness in her heart increased.

Oh hell, she was in more trouble than she’d realized. Somewhere during the course of the afternoon, he had crept into a place in her heart she’d kept under lock and key for decades. She’d made the wrong choice this morning. She should have stayed at home. Now, regardless of what happened, her heart contracted at the thought of saying goodbye to this man. And she had to. Soon.

But not yet. They were both adults and she would get over the sudden tenderness she felt toward him. He was charming, funny, articulate and knowledgeable. Great qualities in any man, and it was normal she’d be a bit smitten by the attention he bestowed on her. Flattered even. But nothing more. Nothing she couldn’t handle. Although she’d made her decision, it was early morning before she finally fell asleep.

* * * *

The rasping of a beard against the soft skin of her neck woke her what seemed like minutes after she fell asleep and she squirmed away. “No, go away. It’s too early.” She forced her heavy eyelids open to the gray light of predawn.

He flung his arm across her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Rise and shine baby.”

His tongue teased the outer edges of her lips while his fingers gently stroked her breasts through her nightgown. She yawned and stretched her arms over her head.

“Do we have to get up?”

“Uh-huh. I want to show you the sugarcane fields.”

She groaned. And not just because of the words. His hands were igniting small flames in her body. She buried her face in his neck and snuggled into his frame.

“Let’s stay in bed a little while longer.”

He slipped his hand under the hem of her gown and traced her thigh upwards.

“If we stay in bed, you better be prepared for the consequences.”

“Hmm, and what might those be?” She lost her train of thought when his fingers stroked her pussy through the thong. She nuzzled his neck. “Oh, it feels so good.”

“I know, baby, but this will feel even better.” He hooked his finger in her thong and shoved it down her legs. She lifted her hips and parted her legs, skimming her hands over his abdomen until she reached the target. A huge, hard target.

“Oh, my.”

He chuckled softly and caressed her clit. She wriggled her bum and slipped her hand inside his shorts. The heat scorched her hand and she gently stroked him, marveling at the way he enlarged in her hand. When his finger slipped into her pussy, she arched her back as the last remnants of sleep fled. Would she ever get enough of him?

She removed his hand from her pussy and crawled under the blankets. His cock dipped when she closed her mouth over the tip, slowly easing him into her mouth. When she bit down lightly on the shaft, his hips lifted off the sheet, forcing him deeper into her throat.

The door banged against the wall and a high-pitched wail pierced the air. Shock stilled Samantha’s movements and the steel rod in her mouth lost some of its rigidity.

“So that’s why you wanted the divorce finalized so quickly. You lying, cheating son of a bitch.”

What the hell was Amber doing here? How did she get inside? Panic threatened to close Samantha’s throat.

Amber’s heels thundered over the floor as she approached the bed. “Who’s the whore you have under there?”

Samantha’s swallowed and only realized she still had Brent’s cock in her mouth when his body jerked. She released him and rested her head on his thigh. His hand rested on her head and he gently stroked her hair as if to reassure her. She couldn’t face Amber—not like this.

“Wait for me in the lounge.” Brent’s voice carried enough authority to stop Amber in her tracks.

“Why should I? I have the right to know who you’re fucking.”

“No you don’t, so I suggest you get out of my room before I have you arrested for trespassing.”

Once the door clicked shut, Brent lifted the covers from Samantha and sat up. “I convinced you to come here and I’ll deal with Amber.”

“You didn’t force me.” She hurried from the bed and made her way to the closet. “We’re in this together whether we like it or not.”

Chapter Nine

Samantha paced the living room. As far as nightmares went, this one rated top of the pile. She hadn’t been here two days and already the game was up. She hugged her arms to her chest and stared out of the window. Why hadn’t she trusted her instincts when they had screamed at her to stay away from Brent?

Because you weren’t thinking with your mind
. Now, all the consequences of sleeping with the man had come to fruition and she might face more than just eight weeks without work.

Outside, Brent and Amber had been arguing for close to an hour. Well, from where she stood, Amber did most of the shouting and Brent interjected with a calm comment here and there. Amber wanted something from Brent.

The fourth time Amber touched her lower abdomen, something clicked in Samantha’s mind. She narrowed her eyes and paid more attention to the woman’s body language. Yes, there it was again—the slight protective swipe across her tummy. The couch was unusually hard beneath her as her legs refused to carry her farther.

Why hadn’t Amber mentioned the pregnancy during the divorce? She could have increased her alimony by a substantial amount, but she’d chosen to remain silent. Samantha worried her lower lip. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

The return of the couple slammed the brakes on her thoughts and her head swiveled to the door where the argument continued in much more sedate tones. Then Brent shook his head.

“It’s not my problem, Amber. We’ve been through this before, remember?”

“I also remember years ago you were content with your trophy wife to boost your social standing. You promised to support me whenever this happened. Have you conveniently forgotten that promise now?”

Brent sighed. “I haven’t forgotten my promise and I would have kept it if we were still married. I’m sorry, Amber, I can’t help you now.”

Amber pushed Brent’s chest with her forefinger. “How can you say it’s not your problem? All these years I’ve done nothing to hinder your rise to fame, to tarnish the reputation you so desperately clung to. Now, when I need your help, you turn your back on me. How could you?”

Samantha swallowed as pity for Amber welled up in her throat. Everybody made mistakes. Granted, Amber seemed to make more than most people and hers had far- reaching consequences, but it didn’t seem fair that she should have to pay for them for the rest of her life.