In Bed with Beauty (2 page)

Citrus Grove Bank was her last chance at keeping her restaurant, Taste of Home open. And if she was late, she was pretty sure, Mr. Max Tucker wouldn’t be impressed by her abilities to run a tight ship. Tucker wouldn’t give money to someone who couldn’t even be on time.

Damn.

This was the end. She’d have to give up the business, and take two jobs just to support herself and her siblings, eighteen-year-old twins. On the plus side the twins would be leaving for college next September and they did have full scholarships. But that was almost a year for her to keep things together. To give them the home her parents had wanted for them.

The beginnings of a headache started at the base of her neck. She wished she’d checked in with the Magic 8 ball this morning before leaving. But there hadn’t been time. She might have checked her horoscope as well but she’d had to cancel her newspaper subscription.

A limousine coasted to a stop right in front of her. Sarah blinked; sure she was imagining it. A short, slightly rotund man emerged from the front. He wore a pair of casual pants, a dress shirt and a tie with, of all things, angels on it.

It looked out of character on the balding man. His shirt stretched tight across his belly. He had an olive complexion and beard stubble despite the early hour. He stopped in front of her car.

“Hey, babe. Flat tire?” he asked, with a Jersey accent.

“I wish.” He made her smile with his self-assured grin and easy manner.

The back door to the limo opened and a second man emerged. He was tall with blond hair, and he moved toward them with a purpose. His eyes were a bright gray that cut right through her. She knew by looking at him that this second man commanded power. His clothing was straight from
GQ,
from his hand-sewn Italian shoes to his designer suit.

As he came closer, she sucked in her breath. His features were too sharp to be termed handsome but he was attractive. She wished she hadn’t learned long ago that there was no such thing as fairy tales because he looked a lot like her version of Prince Charming. But she’d dated enough frogs to know that P.C. didn’t exist except in childhood dreams. And it had been a long time since Sarah Malcolm had been a child.

“What’s the problem?” he asked. He wore a striped shirt underneath his navy suit. His tie was dark. She smiled as he moved closer to her, realizing his tie had small sharks, swimming with their jaws open on it.

“I don’t know,” she said.

He glanced at his watch then at his limo driver. “Can we drop you somewhere?”

What a gentleman, she thought. It seemed like all those candles she’d been lighting at church had finally paid off. She’d been praying for a man to come into her life.

“That would be great. I’ve called a tow truck but it won’t be here for a half hour. I’m due at the Citrus Grove Bank over on Kaley in fifteen minutes.”

“Then let’s get going,” he said, pivoting to walk back to the car.

Sarah hesitated. She wasn’t sure she should just hop into a limousine with two strange men. True, she’d been praying for a handsome knight to rescue her. But she’d been doing that since she’d turned eighteen and Paul had decided two six-year-old twins wasn’t what he wanted from life. So far the guys who’d come along hadn’t been that splendid.

“On second thought I think I’ll wait for the tow.”

The chauffeur stopped and looked straight at her. There was something in his eyes that reassured her. But then she’d heard Ted Bundy had nice eyes.

“Look, it’s no problem. I’m bonded,” he said. He pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to her. Bella Notte Limousine Services. The card had a state certification number as well as the driver’s name—Ray King.

“Thanks.” She glanced at the man who disturbed her on a deep emotional level. He walked back toward her, stopping a discreet distance away.

“Harris Davidson,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Sarah Malcolm.” She took his hand, pumped it three times and let it drop. But her palm still tingled from the contact. His nails were manicured, but she was sure she felt calluses on his hands. She filed the incongruity away for later.

“Now that we’re old friends, can we please go?” he asked.

Was that sarcasm in his voice? She wasn’t sure, so she smiled up at him the way she did at her accountant when he gave her news she didn’t like.

“Sure. Thanks for giving me ride,” she said to Harris.

Sarah slid into the car, taking a seat on the far bench. The divider was up between the driver’s area and the back. She wondered if the driver had made the decision to stop on his own.

Harris was seated and soon they were moving down Orange Avenue. Orlando was a pretty city especially in early fall. The dog days of summer had ended and Halloween was around the corner. She’d already started decorating her house.

“Thanks for stopping.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

She realized he wasn’t going to talk to her again until they got to the bank. That was fine. She could respect his wishes. She glanced at her watch, whispered a fervent prayer that time would slow down a little and she wouldn’t be late.

What would her mom do in this situation? Sarah honestly didn’t know. She’d always tried to be as different from her parents as she could. So filling their shoes had been doubly hard for her.

She couldn’t stand her own thoughts any longer.

“Do you live around here?” she asked. She hated silence, particularly with strangers. Nervous chatter was one of her faults. Her brother teasingly called her Mouth-of-the-South because of it.

“No. California,” he said.

She sank back into the leather seat, crossing her legs. His eyes tracked the movement. She tugged at the hem of her skirt.

She had really fat knees. It didn’t matter that she could wear a size six, her knees always looked to her like they belonged on an elephant and his gaze made her self-conscious.

“Where? San Diego, Los Angeles or San Francisco?” she asked.

He finally looked away, clearing his throat. “L.A.—Belair actually.”

“Really?”

He inclined his head and lifted one eyebrow. He had a tendency to react with an acerbic wit, she realized, even when he didn’t speak.

She knew he wanted her to leave him alone, but there was something about him. The aloofness he portrayed made her want to needle him. To keep talking until he had no choice but to respond to her.

“Do you know any movie stars? I’ve always wanted to visit, but I’ve never had the chance.”

“I don’t know any movie stars,” he said, picking up the Wall Street Journal from the seat next to him, snapping it open.

She knew it was a hint. A pretty blatant one considering he lifted the paper until she couldn’t see his face. She glanced out the window; they were coming closer to the bank. Any minute now, she’d be placing the restaurant’s fate in Mr. Tucker’s hands. What if he denied her the expansion loan?

“Do you like living there?” she asked, needing to distract herself.

“I guess so,” he said from behind the paper.

Sarah liked a challenge. She waited a few minutes. “Could you live anywhere else?”

He lowered a corner of the paper. “Not without relocating my business. I like L.A. I deal mostly with the Asian market.”

“What do you do?”

“Ms. Malcolm—”

“Call me Sarah,” she said with a smile.

He set the paper on the seat next to him and leaned forward, arms braced against his knees. His jacket fell open and she noticed the muscles under his dress shirt as the fabric stretched tautly across his chest.

She wondered what he’d look like without his shirt on. Okay, she’d definitely been alone too long. Time to start dating again. In fact, when she got back to the restaurant she’d call Marcus, her accountant, and take him up on his standing invitation for dinner.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

His question startled her. Did she seem nervous? “No, why?”

“Do you always talk so much?”

“I’m afraid so. My brother teases me mercilessly about it.”

“I’m not your brother,” he said.

“Believe me, I noticed,” she said before she could stop herself.

He cocked his head to the side, watching her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of her femininity.

The limo stopped in front of the bank and Sarah gathered her stuff to get out. Harris stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Don’t go quiet on me now.”

“I thought that was your fondest wish.”

“Maybe you don’t know everything.”

“There’s no maybe about it.”

“I like a woman who’s not afraid to admit she doesn’t know everything.”

“Most men do. It makes them feel superior,” she said, with a wink.

Harris wasn’t sure how to reply to Sarah. No one ever really teased him the way she had. He worked hard to keep a wall between himself and others. He wasn’t positive, but he thought she might have realized that and then decided to do her damnedest to break through it. He’d held his own against some of the shrewdest Japanese investors at the bargaining table but this one rather slight woman knocked him off balance.

“In the battle of the sexes, men will take any advantage.”

She smiled, drawing his attention to her mouth. She had the sexiest damn mouth he’d ever seen. Her lips were full, but not so they looked like they were about to explode. Instead they beckoned a man closer. Teased him into believing that one taste from her lips would be as close to nirvana as he might find on this earth.

“Even a false one,” she said.

Hell, what had they been talking about? Women had an advantage over men, they’d never really understand, Harris thought. Because when a man was with a woman he’d just met and he hadn’t ruled her out as lover, only that thought dominated him. “A perceived advantage can’t hurt.”

She tossed her hair. It was thick and black, kind of curly. It looked free and untamed much as her spirit had said she was. There was a rich shine to it and he knew it would feel like sable under his fingers.

It had been a long time since he’d taken a mistress. He wondered if she’d be open to that type of arrangement. He’d only be in Orlando for six weeks. The situation would be ideal for him.

“Just as long as you know it’s only perceived,” she said. Her voice was mellow, deeper than most women’s were. A soft alto that brushed over his senses like a silk brush over his skin. Awakening a part of him that he’d thought dormant.

If there was one thing Harris knew it was that the deck was stacked against men in the battle of the sexes. He’d watched his own father fall victim one too many times to the supposed weaker sex to ever allow himself to be that weak. In his twenties he’d ignored the lessons he’d learned at his father’s knee and tried to create the family he’d always craved. He’d failed and never attempted it again. “Believe me I do.”

“Bitter?” she asked.

He thought about it. He held no ill will toward womankind, had enjoyed many a night in a woman’s arms. But there was clearly a battlefield when it came to the two genders. Men, or at least Harris, felt ill equipped for the battle.

“Just realistic.”

“Oh,
realistic.
Are you one of those guys who doesn’t believe in love?” she asked.

She leaned forward on the seat, her dark brown eyes sparkled. Suddenly he wanted to do something juvenile like challenge her to a dare. She was the kind of woman who’d relish it.

She wasn’t like other women he’d met before. She sparkled with a
joie de vie
that he’d never had, and the selfish, cold part of him wanted to keep her close so that he could bask in her warmth. But he knew she wouldn’t stay for long. Then again, she didn’t have to, he reminded himself. He only wanted her for the length of his stay in Florida.

Many women had tried to change him. Tried to teach him to love, but Harris knew some things came into a man’s life too late. And love was certainly one of those things for him.

“Honey, no man believes in love,” he said.

Her eyes shuttered and he realized she’d categorized him.
Genus Male, Species Hopeless.

“Just lust, huh?” she asked.

“Well lust is quantitatively provable,” he said. He needed to touch her again. Earlier when they’d shook hands he’d been preoccupied with getting back on the road so he wouldn’t be late for his appointment. But now he wanted to linger. That reaction shook him. He wasn’t given to unpredictable actions and didn’t intend to start now.

“You have a point,” she said.

“I usually do.”

She gathered her purse, dug inside it for her sunglasses. “What about relationships that last after physical desire fades?”

He saw Ray moving around to open the door. Harris wasn’t too sure about this new driver. His normal one, Jeffrey O’Neil, wasn’t available due to a family emergency and it seemed Ray King didn’t really understand his role. Harris had learned early on that staff wasn’t family and should be treated like employees. He would remind Ray of this as soon as they dropped Sarah Malcolm off. He’d learned early on that roles were important and to make sure everyone understood the part they were to play.

Part of him saddened that this encounter was going to end so soon. “What about them?”

“Why do they continue?” she asked.

Honestly, he’d never had one last after the intense passion faded. He didn’t know why they did. He’d noticed that some of the woman he’d dated had tried to strike up a friendship with him after some time had passed. But Harris knew that relationships of any kind weren’t for him. He was more comfortable with the silence. “Friendship, I guess,” he said.

“That’s all.”

“I’ve never experienced one, but I’d guess a long-term monogamous relationship lasts because of the memories of hot sex and the bond of friendship.”

“You really are a guy,” she said at last.

“Did I try to convince you I wasn’t?” he asked.

“No,” she said, blushing.

“Should I prove to you I am?” He wanted her to say yes. But he’d never blow off his meeting for the chance to spend the day with her. No matter how much he wanted to explore the hot currents that burned between them. He slid forward in his seat so that their knees brushed.