Natalie Acres (7 page)

Oh, but he disagreed there. He wasn’t in the dark about Jason Neely. He’d observed the kind of control Jason maintained over Kimberly. If he wanted to win her heart, he had to stick with his plan right from the start.

“I’ve heard all about that country heart,” he said, walking alongside her. And while he was interested in her heart, he liked what was right above the surface, too.

Those perky breasts were pushed up for show, nearly spilling from the lace and begging for a man’s hands to catch them. A low, guttural growl slipped from his chest. Her shoulders straightened as he perused her openly, not at all trying to hide his visual sweep and thorough appreciation.

At the top of the stairwell leading down to the club, she stopped. “Well?”

“Well? What?” he drawled.

“Are you prim and proper?”

He laughed. “A prim and proper gentleman? You never know. Looks can be deceiving.”

“I hope so.” She walked ahead of him.

He blew out a hard breath.
Gentleman?
Typically, he was anything but. Wyatt had a working man’s hands for a reason. He was a hard worker, had earned his keep from the time he was old enough to toss a bale of hay, and had somehow lost his way and ended up chasing thugs and high-profile criminals instead of herding cattle and riding horses.

Now, at thirty years old, he was retired from a career he’d learned to love, consulting on cases he’d rather not take, and investing in real estate with a specific interest in the underground clubs. His financials suggested his net worth was well over forty million, but a few million here or there probably wouldn’t impress a Cartwell.

Once they reached the second flight of stairs, Kimberly said, “We veer to the left here.”

“Trying to avoid someone?”

“Yes,” she replied, laughing. “Bouncers, sisters, brothers-in-law, pretty much everyone.”

“I see,” Wyatt said, pushing open the metal door as soon as they reached the landing to the emergency exit. He turned to look at the hauntingly dark stairwell once more before they left the building, noting there weren’t cameras there.

Once they were outside, he couldn’t help but pay attention to the same. There was very little lighting and only a few visible cameras. “You should have more security afterhours.”

“I should?” she asked, copping a smile. “Why, Wyatt? Are you worried about me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, aware of several problems the Cartwell women had endured. From what Mitch had told him, the threats were over, but he’d mentioned numerous incidences, more than the average family faced in a couple of decades, let alone one. Add in a few recent findings and Wyatt was definitely concerned for her safety. Kimberly hadn’t exactly aligned herself with an adoring lover. Unbeknownst to her, she’d given new meaning to keeping an enemy close.

Kimberly squeezed his arm. “I like living here and I’m safe.”

With the word
safe
hanging in the air, Wyatt steered her toward the awaiting stretch limousine. “We’re over here.”

Kimberly stopped short of taking another step. “What is all this?”

Did he detect apprehension now? Was she flattered or perhaps just downright suspicious?

“Who are you?” she asked, lifting her brow in a cute arch.

“I’m your date for the evening.” Sticking out his hand, he added, “Wyatt Clanton. It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Why did you go to this much trouble?”

He leaned forward. “Can I shoot straight with you?”

She placed her forefinger on her lower jaw. “Let me see…why yes,
that
would be great.”

“I’d rather spend the next two and a half hours entertaining you as my guest instead of driving us to Columbia.”

“We’re going to Columbia?”

“Yes,” he replied, digging in his jacket for his cell. “Would you like to call Mitch or Trixie to confirm I gave them the details so they’d know where to find you in case of an emergency?”

“I already received a text from Trixie. She said I was about to embark on an adventure.”

“Well?”

“Well Trixie doesn’t use words like ‘embark,’ so I’m sure someone fed her the intel.”

“Anything is possible.” He patted his driver on the shoulder. “Let us know when we’re fifteen minutes away from our destination.”

“Yes, Mr. Clanton,” the chauffeur said.

“After you, Miss Cartwell,” Wyatt said, trying to maintain his composure as she bent over and entered the limousine.

Catching his chauffeur staring at her ass, Wyatt clenched his teeth and entered the car behind her. This would be a night to remember, but in order for the two of them to have a pleasurable evening, he needed to reel in that unexpected green-eyed monster wrought with possessiveness even he didn’t understand, especially on a first date.

The champagne was poured. The conversation flowed well. The man looked like the epitome of perfection and the night was still young.

Something was terribly wrong with this picture.

Kimberly stared out the window, watching as Hendersonville quickly faded into the darkness. “Where are we going again?”

He rested his arm behind her, seemingly careful not to cradle her shoulders or wrap his muscular limb around her, yet lighting a spark of awareness all the same. “Do you remember the first night we were together?”

Kimberly had just lifted her glass to her lips. Immediately, she flicked her wrist and barely managed to move the flute away before a splash of champagne cascaded over the rim. “I beg your pardon?”

He handed her a few bar napkins without making a fuss. “The first night we were together. Do you remember it?”

Kimberly wiped down her glass and tucked the napkins in the door. “I would remember if we shared some sort of elusive history. You have the wrong sister if you think I like to get drunk and delirious.”

If he wanted her to mention their wild exchange of glances and the couple of dances they’d shared, he’d guide her into the heart of the conversation.
Lead.
That’s what she wanted him to do.

“You don’t drink?” he asked, tapping the rim of her glass with his finger.

“On occasion, yes, but I’m not known for drunken stupors. If we had a night to remember, I’d recall every last detail.” She tapped her temple. “It would be right up here as clear as mud.”

He observed her as if he didn’t quite buy the fact that she wasn’t a party girl who experienced the occasional blackout after too much to drink. Finally, he said, “Let me jog your memory.”

“Please do,” she said, sipping from her glass.

“It was Valentine’s Day,” he began, setting aside his champagne flute. “I had just arrived in town. I checked in with Mitch and he said they were in for the night—which I’d expected—so I drove on over to Clink.

“You were working, as I’d hoped you would be, tending bar. I wasn’t surprised to discover Jason there, but I was a little disappointed to find you enduring another one of his drunken episodes.”

“You’ve witnessed those?”

“Several of them,” he admitted. “Which is why I don’t care to mention them, Kimberly, but we’ll get to that later.”

She shifted uncomfortably and crossed one leg over the other. She wasn’t amiss to notice the way Wyatt perused her body. His gaze groping was as intense as making love. He started with her stilettos, lingered at the ankle strap, then continued up her calf and thigh. His gaze literally slid over her like caressing fingers, practically probing her at strategic points.

He stared at her exposed upper thigh, and she squeezed one knee against the other, bouncing her leg lightly in an effort to play off his attention. She tried to act like she was comfortable under his provocative scrutiny, but Wyatt was no woman’s fool.

His dimple twitched as one of his fingers skimmed across the nape of her neck. The sensation left her tingling from front to back. One touch had felt like a breathless whisper, a tantalizing prologue promising a strong lead into the heart of an unforgettable romance.

“Jason left that night with two women—one on each arm. And you started shooting whiskey,” he told her, returning to the conversation instead of honing in on his art of seduction.

“I remember that.”

“Do you recall what happened when you went to the observation loft?”

Kimberly jerked. She slumped against the seat and covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”

How could she have forgotten? Why, when Wyatt had been the source of her fantasies, had she somehow overlooked why he had become the focal point of those daydreams?

He rested his hand on her bare shoulder. “The music had this incredible beat. Sex was in the air. I had a few drinks with Graham Killian, asked several questions about you, and watched from a distance as you worked the room.”

Kimberly tried to keep her mouth closed, but it became more and more difficult as she realized one gasp quickly followed another. The heat of the night, the suffocating intensity, came propelling forward. Hot sensuality had lingered in the air, the mix of lust and love, excitement and adventure.

“We started dancing,” she finally said, remembering how his body had moved with hers. They did a little more than dance. They stood back, grinding against one another while watching others participate in club exhibitionism.

“Yes,” he agreed, shrugging off his jacket and placing it on the bench running the length of the car.

She was afraid to speak then, afraid she’d give away too much. As her body reacted to the fierce connection between them, she chose to remain silent.

“You entered the loft ahead of me,” he said, a distant spark of wantonness lighting up his desirous gaze. “You were clearly drunk and definitely the center of attention. Women wanted to strangle you and their men wanted to—”

“I own a sex club,” she reminded him.

“Men wanted to fuck you,” he said without further hesitation. “There wasn’t a question in my mind, if I didn’t save you, one of them would take you home and have their way with you.”

He loosened his tie and cocked his head. The jogged memory clearly impacted him.

“Did you take me home and have your way with me?”

“I could have,” he admitted, a slow smile forming on his lips. “God, you were something to see.”

A light tremor worked its way through her body. There was such longing in his voice, so much appreciation there. More than anything else, she knew without a doubt, this man had known lust that night. And she vaguely remembered teasing him, only it wasn’t enough. She wanted to hear more. She longed to relive their moment to the nth degree while embracing that tried and tested sexual chemistry.

“You and I danced in the loft. Do you remember?”

“Go on,” she encouraged him, refusing to spoil his tale by admitting or denying what she recalled.

“You came on to me,” he stated proudly. “You spotted me talking to this petite brunette. She was a cute little thing, too, but nothing like you. Oh no, she didn’t hold a candle to you, and you knew it.”

She felt her mouth twist to one side. “And I just interrupted you while you were putting the moves on this unsuspecting gal?”

“You walked up like a well-tuned sex machine. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Those hips were pumping like the tempo of the music pulsed through your body, strummed through your veins. God, you were so hot to watch.

“Those erratic moves were practically choreographed, well orchestrated. You were so damned wild and free.”

The yearning in his voice deepened and she couldn’t help but glance down. She noticed his lengthening erection stretching between his hard thighs. “You picked me up and carried me to the dance floor.”

“I had to get you out of that loft.” He drank the rest of his champagne as if he needed to immediately quench his thirst.

“Why?” She asked the question, but knew the answer, which wasn’t her kind of game. For some reason, she needed him to walk her through the night and tell her about the evening from his point of view.

Everything he’d shared with her had come rolling back. Arousing images filled her mind’s eye. The manner in which she had responded to him, the way she’d longed for more intimacy, a more satisfying connection.

“We were crazy together, Kimberly. That’s why. You were like a damned drug to me and I didn’t want anyone to make me taper off. I didn’t want interruptions. What can I say? I was a selfish man.”

Wow.
She’d been a lot of things to a lot of people, but a drug? Their chemistry must’ve been potent, more wicked than she even recalled.

He tilted her chin to his. “Do you remember, Kimberly?”

Her eyelashes fluttered uncontrollably as she relived what had probably been one of the most electrifying moments of her life. “For me, it was like a great hunt had begun. One minute I was the hunted and you were the hunter, the next I was the predator and you were my prey. The dancing was hypnotic, rejuvenating, and I’ve never remembered any of it as clearly as I remember every second right here, right now.”

He wanted to kiss her. Screw the kiss. He wanted to fuck her.