Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) (4 page)

Chapter Three

T
he cooler evening air helped clear Tony’s head as he leaned against the gate of Scooter’s paddock.
That woman has to go.
He wasn’t celibate, but the women he’d been with had no illusions about why they were together. He didn’t have to make excuses or pretend to want to stay with them until morning.

None of them had ever looked up at him with the open innocence of his little blonde intruder. He’d bet money on two things: she was a virgin and she wanted him. Her interest had been obvious, but in an entirely different way than the bold women he was used to.

A woman like Sarah would think sex came with a commitment. She’d be hurt when I asked her to leave. Exploring that tight little body of hers wouldn’t be worth the aggravation that would likely follow.
He went instantly, painfully hard as he remembered how she’d looked, mostly naked, in his shower. During his celebrity years, he’d encountered many beautiful women. Women who were taller than Sarah, thinner, more polished. He didn’t remember any of them taking his breath away or scattering his thoughts with a simple smile. Dinner had made the situation worse rather than better and triggered an uncomfortable realization:
One night wouldn’t be enough.

He sensed Sarah’s approach even before he heard her soft footsteps, but he didn’t turn to look at her. Her image was already too vivid in his mind, and all he would see was a woman who had to leave.
Now rather than later.

She stepped onto the bottom wooden panel of the paddock fence next to him and leaned forward to call her horse, which met her caressing hand eagerly.

Lucky horse.

“I put my luggage back in my SUV. All that’s left is to load Scooter and I’ll be on my way.”

Don’t ask. It’s better not to know.
“Did you finally reach your friends?”
And don’t look.
He did and lost himself for a moment in those large brown eyes of hers.

“No, but they know I’m coming. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll find a gas station on the way and buy a map.” The forced optimism in her voice didn’t fool him.

Don’t get involved.
“No.”

A wrinkle of confusion creased her flawless forehead. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Delicious pink lips pursed in displeasure. “I don’t remember asking if I could.” She seemed to consider her own statement and said, “If you’re worried about me, I can call you when I get there so you’ll know that I made it okay.”

A reasonable solution.
So why was everything in him rejecting the idea? “I’ll call Melanie and have her prepare the guest room for you.”

With a hand on one hip, his little blonde angel said, “I’m perfectly capable of finding Lucy’s place. I made it here on my own.” When he opened his mouth to reply, she cut him off and said, “By here, I mean Texas.” She raised one hand between them to silence him. “Don’t say it. I appreciate your offer of a room, but I can’t stay here.”

Walk away. She’s not your problem. Nod, shake her hand, and head back into the house.
The impatience he felt toward himself echoed in his curt tone as he said,
“You’re tired. Your horse is tired. It’s almost a day’s trip. It doesn’t make sense to leave tonight.”

Arms resting on the fence, Sarah chewed her bottom lip and studied her horse. “Is there a hotel nearby? I’d have to leave Scooter here for the night, but I could pay you.”

“I don’t want your money, and town is an hour away.” God help him, he didn’t want to be paid—he wanted her.

He leaned down, close enough so that when she turned her head he could almost taste her lips beneath his. The soft scent of her filled him with a desire to lay her down and claim her right then and there. She licked her bottom lip. The tip of her tongue left a wet trail that he eagerly wanted to follow.

She whispered. “I don’t know you.”

We can remedy that.

She was innocently wanton. Did she have any idea what her pose was doing to him? With one high-heeled foot hitched up on the lower plank, and leaning forward as she was, she was offering a temptation any man would have trouble resisting.

Didn’t I just decide she was off limits? Nothing has changed. The best thing I can do is agree and let her go. Even if, more than anything, I want her to stay
. Tony straightened and took a step back; his next words were a concession to the inner battle he was losing. “I want you to stay.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, the crease returned to her forehead. “Do you always get what you want?”

He turned away, adjusted his hat, and rested his forearms on the top of the fence a foot away from hers. In a tired voice he said, “Never.”

Oh, now that’s just not fair.

I already want to throw all decorum to the wind and jump him—do you have to make me like him, too?

All that manly talk and now a hint of save-me sadness? Where do I sign up for this ride?

I should write that down.

Save-me sadness.

Which doesn’t mean I can stay here tonight.

I can’t becaus
e . . .

Wait, I don’t have a boyfriend, a job, or, apparently, even reliable friends. If I leave now, it’s a slap in the face of fate. Opportunities like this don’t just happen. They’re a gift.

Sarah used her peripheral vision to give the man next to her another once-over.

And what a gift.

So what if the last ten women who accepted his offer to stay are buried in the back field? Note to self: check back field for mounds. This is what I asked for, dreamed of, came out here determined not to leave without: an adventure.

Schooling her features, she hoped she didn’t appear psychotically excited by her decision. “One night.” She held her breath and waited for his response to her surrender. Their eyes met and held for a moment, charging the space between them. She leaned toward him, her eyes half closed in anticipation of his kiss.

“You should go answer that,” Tony said abruptly.

Sarah’s eyes shot open. Still in a bit of a daze, she asked, “Answer what?”

“The phone,” Tony said, a glint of humor lighting his eyes. “I don’t get many calls. It’s probably your friend.”

“Oh,” she said.
Damn.
“Thanks.” She tried but failed to sound happy about it.

If that’s Lucy now, she has the world’s worst timing.

Thanks for nothing, Lucy.

You never really get the apology you imagine you’re owed.

Sarah listened to Lucy’s long explanation about why she’d been away from home and had turned her cell phone off: last-minute errands; her brother needed her help with something. The whole story sounded a bit contrived, and Lucy’s contriteness was sadly lacking.
You don’t let a friend drive for three days, then play hide-and-seek with them on the day they arrive.

Lucy said, “Things have just been crazy here these last few days. I should have called you and told you now isn’t a good time to come, but I didn’t know how to say it.”

Well, this is awkward.

She continued, “Of course, I can’t wait to see you. You could probably stay through the weekend, but after that, I don’t know. My brother changed his mind about having someone here for the summer.”

Because why not drive cross-country with your horse for a weekend?

Sarah opened her mouth to tell her friend just what she thought of her when a thought struck her.
Things happen for a reason, and a woman could find herself stranded in worse places.
“I’m settled in here for the night, Lucy. I’m fine.”

Lucy said, “I didn’t realize you had other friends in the area.”

“I didn’t know it myself until today.”

“Then this all worked out for the best, I guess. How long do you think you’ll stay there?” Lucy asked, her relief obvious.

Until Mr. Sexy Cowboy has me physically removed from his property or I wake up, realize how insane this all is, and leave while I still have some dignity.

“I’m not sure,”
Sarah said vaguely.

“Hopefully, we can get together before you leave.”

Still irritated with Lucy, Sarah thought,
A few hours ago, I would have jumped at the chance to see you, but I’ve kind of moved on.
“Sure.”

After replacing the handset in its cradle, Sarah smiled all the way to her SUV
.
Something inside her clicked into place and she felt inspired.
She dug through her oversized purse for her notebook. She’d gone from having nothing to write about to not knowing how to start recording everything she didn’t want to forget about this trip. A story was already forming in her mind, tickling her imagination.
A contemporary romance—a sexy one.
She jotted in her notebook:
Strong heroine who is willing to take risks. She yearns for something or someone she can’t have.

Yearns.
Sarah underlined the word twice.
That’s a good place to start.

“Was that your friend on the phone?” Tony asked from beside her. Sarah let out a yelp of surprise and dropped her notebook at his feet. He reached for it, but she snatched it up from the ground, closing it quickly and clasping it to her chest while hoping he hadn’t seen the first page.

Because nothing says “I’m normal” like a question regarding men’s grooming practices on their genitalia.

“Yes,” Sarah said, the word catching in her throat.

Tony scowled down at her and nodded at her notebook. “You jotting down the directions before you forget them?”

Looks like this conversation is going to happen at the corner of Awkward and Embarrassing.
“Not exactly.” She cleared her throat. “My friend changed her mind about wanting me to visit.”

Those green eyes bored into hers. He drawled, “Doesn’t sound like much of a friend.”

“You think?” Sarah snapped sarcastically, letting her nerves momentarily get the best of her.
Calm down. None of this is his fault.
“Sorry. I guess I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

In the quiet that followed, Sarah tried telepathy.
See, this is where you could use an incredibly sexy bedroom voice to tell me not to worry since you have more than enough room for me. Lean in again, and I’ll know having me here will be torture for you because you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to keep your hands off me while I’m sleeping right down the hall.

His expression remained unreadable.

Screw telepathy.
Sarah snapped again,
“You could at least tell me that I’m welcome to stay here tonight.”

“I said that earlier,” he said matter-of-factly. He opened the rear door of her SUV, pulled out her suitcases, and started walking to the house. When she didn’t follow, he stopped, half turned, and gruffly said, “Come on.”

Sarah fought the urge to stomp her foot in frustration.
Oh yes, the fictitious you will be tormented with desire for me.
She sighed and followed him onto the porch. When he stopped at the door and held it open with his back, allowing her to pass through, she narrowed her eyes at him and imagined how the retelling of this night would go when she met with her friends back home.

Were you worried about staying at a stranger’s house your first night in Texas?

Surprisingly, no.

Not concerned that he might try to take advantage of you?

Sarah gurgled on a laugh as she followed him up the staircase and down a narrow hallway.
Are you kidding? I was betting he’d lock his bedroom door.

Tony turned and frowned as if her amusement annoyed him. He opened the door to the small guest room and placed her luggage beside the white wrought-iron twin bed topped with a surprisingly delicate flowered quilt.

“You need anything?” he asked in a tone that implied he’d prefer that she didn’t.

If you only knew.

Or maybe you do and you’re not interested.

She blushed. “All set.” He was stepping out the door when she spontaneously said, “Ton
y . . .
”

With a hand on the doorknob, he turned and raised one eyebrow in question.

Stay.

Nothing in his expression indicated that he would be the slightest bit tempted to, so instead she said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

Sarah tossed her notebook on the oak nightstand beside the bed and flopped onto a mattress that felt as cold and unwelcoming as the man who had led her to it.

Just because Texas wasn’t living up to her fantasy, the trip wasn’t a complete wash.
I didn’t come here to meet a man. Honestly, I didn’t really come to see Lucy, either. I came to find my story.

She rolled onto her stomach and reached for her notebook. Pen met paper with an enthusiasm she’d feared she’d never experience. First she recorded what she didn’t want to forget about the trip, then she tried to capture as much as possible of the story she’d been outlining in her head all day. Two hours later, she flipped back to the first page, reread everything she’d written, and then wrote her painful realizations at the end:

- I’ll need more than my personal experience if this book is going to have sex scenes.

- Is that really how it was? No wonder we broke up. Why did it take me this long to realize how bad it was?

- Twenty-five and I’ve never orgasmed.

What is my problem?

Maybe I was born with a hyperactive imagination but subpar bits and pieces.

Looking around the room and feeling a bit guilty, Sarah stepped out of her shoes, pants, and underwear, then slid beneath the flowered quilt. She ran her hand down her stomach and over her short pubic hair.

Everyone does it.

Some even suggest it as a way to improve your sex life. If you know what pleases you, then you can guide your partner and all that crap.