Yield to Me

Chapter 1

At six feet five inches, short women
didn’t appeal to Brent Howard in the least, so it was only natural his gaze
zeroed in on five feet ten inch Sophie Adams the minute she walked into the
crowded room. She was a stunning creature, cultivated and poised; her status of
wealth and influence in society evident in not only her regal appearance but in
her every move.

He couldn’t help thinking the
outdated newspaper clipping he’d seen of her earlier hadn’t done her justice.
The colorless picture hadn’t revealed the healthy, rich satin of her
honey-toned skin, or the way the auburn highlights in her hair, done in a
casual yet elegant style away from her face, caught the light as she moved.
Reminding him of an untamed wildfire begging to be tamed.

The evening gown she was wearing
wasn’t much more than a black sheath of shimmering satin. The halter style cut
revealingly low in the front while falling in a graceful line all the way to
her elegant ankles. It hugged her hourglass shape like a glove, revealing she
couldn’t possibly be wearing any undergarments. Three-inch heels put her over
the six-foot mark, which meant she’d fit perfectly against him on the dance
floor.
And in bed.
The thought came from nowhere. After
all, he was a man, and she was sexier than hell.

As she moved, the light captured the
brilliance of the emeralds adorning her slender throat. Even Brent’s inexperienced
eyes could tell they weren’t made of paste but were the real deal, and probably
worth a small fortune. The fifteen-carat diamond on her finger alone could
probably buy a small country and would certainly feed a lot of starving people.
His mouth turned down with mild disgust. He didn’t begrudge people who had
money but flaunting it in pretentious ways had always turned him off. And Miss
Adams had a way of flaunting it as though it was as natural to her as air was
to breathe.

She turned slightly and Brent caught
his breath, his gaze landing on the amount of flesh exposed by the daringly low
cut back of her dress, which narrowed to the curve of her slim waist. Not only
beautiful but an exhibitionist as well.
Interesting.

Without being obvious, his gaze
followed her as he waited for the right time to make his move. As she glided
smoothly from one painting to another wearing that “look but don’t touch”
attitude, he was surprised to see she was alone. No one approached her, not
even to say hello. However, he knew in spite of her social standing within the
community, it was a well-known fact that Miss Adams insisted on her space and
privacy. In fact, she demanded it. An unapproachable beauty one could only look
at and admire from afar.

Brent knew that would be her
downfall.

With a roguish grin his mother would
say held a look of pure trouble, he reached for a glass of champagne off a tray
as the hostess walked by, sipping at it without really tasting it. Pretending
interest in some of the artwork and sculptures scattered throughout the
spacious room, he continued to watch Sophie as he gradually made his way in her
direction.

The museum was crowded with black
ties, suits and evening gowns as only the wealthiest had turned out for the
grand opening of the Calabay Cove Art Museum. Photographers were many,
frenziedly snapping pictures of the rich and famous. He scanned the room,
taking note of the security guards stationed about. They were dressed to the
hilt in an obvious effort to blend in and not alarm the public that they might
be needed.

Strictly as a precaution, it
appeared the owners of the museum weren’t taking any chances with the millions
of dollars worth of art they had on hand. Brent wondered if it had occurred to
anyone that there was more there then just artwork needing protection. His gaze
automatically searched out Sophie, and froze.

The lady was looking directly at
him.

* * * *

An uneasy feeling enveloped Sophie
as she unhurriedly made her way around the room, not for the first time peering
over her shoulder as though expecting to see someone there. Not paranoid by
nature, she was certain someone was following her, and watching her. It
wouldn’t be the first time in her twenty-eight years. As the daughter of a
senator, she’d grown up in the spotlight, accustomed to being followed by
reporters, and at times, bodyguards. However, it had grown worse since her
engagement to millionaire Jonathan Lord had been made public. An engagement she
would have kept private had it not been for his colossal ego.

Pausing, she examined an oil
painting that made her immediately think of confetti.
Splashes
of bright color that, to her way of thinking, any child of five could have done
without much effort.
The outrageous price tag of four thousand dollars
on it caused her to shake her head with disbelief, until remembering where she
was. And who might be watching.

There were photographers about. If
one of them managed to snap a picture of her at the wrong moment, that
definitely would not be the kind of reaction Jonathan would expect to see on
the front page in the morning paper. Furthermore, when he was displeased about
something, he let it be known. Keeping up appearances was very important to him,
ranking right up there with landing a wealthy senator’s daughter.

Sophie had learned early on that he
tended to look at the smallest infraction as an embarrassment and personal
attack on him. Even going as far as accusing her of going out of her way to
embarrass him in public once, when all she’d done was show up after their
engagement announcement not wearing the much-publicized ring. Without being
obvious, she cast a glance down at the cold, meaningless stone, hating what it
represented. A smile designed to hide her true feelings turned the corners of
her mouth up but did nothing to diminish the sadness in her heart when she
thought about her situation.

Forcing herself to move on, she
ignored the prickling sensation at the back of her neck, resisting the impulse
to look behind her a second time. Her imagination was working overtime, that
was all. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, reaching for a glass of
sparkling champagne. She didn’t drink but maybe a small sip would soothe her
nerves. Glancing up as she put her lips to the rim of the glass, she noticed
him.

She
froze,
the man’s dark, compelling presence all but taking her breath away. More
handsome than any man had a right to be, he stood well above any other in the
room. He didn’t look like the black suit and tie type, yet it fit his
broad-shouldered frame nicely, as though tailored specifically for him. He
carried himself with ease, revealing a boredom she was used to seeing on the
men who moved in her circle. Yet she sensed hiding beneath the surface was an
alert predator, primed for action. There was a healthy outdoorsy look about
him. His dark skin tone indicated whatever he did for a living wasn’t behind a
door in an air-conditioned building somewhere, sitting at a desk.

He gave her the distinct impression
he didn’t particularly want to be there. She took another sip of her drink,
striving not to be obvious as she kept her gaze trained on him, taking in his
jet-black hair. It looked as if he’d been running his hands through it all
evening. Feminine interest had her wondering if it was as thick and silky as it
appeared. She wondered if he was alone. A quick glance around the room revealed
no one else who came close to measuring up to the raw magnetism he portrayed.

A male in his
prime.

He brought his glass to his lips,
glancing about the room over the rim until his gaze came back to her. Their
eyes met and held, causing Sophie to catch her breath again. Her heart skipped
a beat. A delicious heat uncurled deep inside her body making her pulse leap
excitedly; a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
And never with Jonathan.

Thank goodness she was skilled in
the art of keeping her composure even under the most difficult of
circumstances, praying no one observing her noticed the faint outward changes
she couldn’t control. She didn’t need to glance into a mirror to know the heat
filling her cheeks left them a rosy hue, branding her. Perhaps she could blame
it on the champagne.

“Darling, you’re drinking.” Cool,
masculine lips briefly touched the exposed skin at Sophie’s collarbone. A
shiver escaped her before she could stop it. She hoped Jonathan thought it was
a quiver of desire and not the revulsion she actually felt whenever he touched
her.

It wasn’t as though he were
unattractive. On the contrary, Jonathan was extremely good-looking.
A real life Ken doll with stylish blonde hair and sharp blue eyes.
Yet it was the monster behind those boyish good looks and southern charm that
scared her. From the beginning, she’d heard rumors about how he’d attained his
wealth. Stories laced with unfavorable content, and now she had firsthand
knowledge of how devious he could be when he wanted something.

“You look ravishing tonight,” he
drawled close to her ear, purposely letting his lips brush against her again.
To make matters worse, his hands smoothed up her bare arms to her
shoulders, caressing her openly as he went.

Sophie realized she’d have to get
over her aversion to Jonathan soon enough. Once they were married, she’d hardly
be able to keep him from her bed. As he seemed determined to stake his claim in
an unusual public display of affection, she lowered her eyelids, effectively
hiding her dislike from the others in the room.

“Darling?
Is something wrong?”

Sophie knew he was waiting for a
response, but when she raised her head, it was the dark compelling stare of a
stranger who captured and held her gaze.

* * * *

Brent was trained to notice things.
The tiniest telltale flicker in Sophie’s beautiful eyes when their gazes met
gave her true feelings away when her fiancé touched her. The barely noticeable
stiffening of her body after Lord removed his lips sent up a warning flag Brent
couldn’t ignore. His gaze narrowed, not missing the way her hand trembled
slightly as she brought the champagne glass to her rose-colored mouth.

The lady was definitely repulsed by
Lord’s touch. Either that or she loathed public displays, which he quickly dismissed.
If Lord noticed anything, he ignored it, too arrogant and self-assured. Yet
Brent’s instincts told him he knew exactly what Sophie’s reaction was to his
touch and that he was taking secret pleasure in it.

Some men got off on forcing their
unwanted attentions on a woman when they knew it wasn’t reciprocated. For some
reason, those ungrounded thoughts sent a rush of anger through Brent; the
conversation he’d had with Senator Adams two days before coming back to him.
Was he correct in his theory that Sophie was being blackmailed into marriage?

Brent knew enough about Jonathan
Lord’s reputation to know the man never took no for an answer. When he wanted
something, he got it by whatever means available to him. He was shrewd in his
business dealings, lucky with his money investments, and thrived on power, most
especially the kind he’d acquire once he and Sophie were married.

Add that to the several high-ranking
politicians already in his hip pocket and the man was set for life. It was
rumored he was good at digging up dirt; the kind people in high places paid a
lot of money to keep from becoming public. Of course no one was brave enough to
come right out and accuse him of blackmail, which made Lord a dangerous man as
far as Brent was concerned. The kind a person would have to be a fool to cross,
unless they were an influential senator.

Senator Adams had a bulldog
reputation of standing his own ground when he wanted something too. He got
results. If he suspected Sophie was being blackmailed into marrying Lord, he
would do anything to find out what Lord’s leverage was in order to prevent it,
not excluding kidnapping. The million-dollar question was what did Lord have on
Sophie that would force her to marry him against her will?

His gaze traveled over her again,
more leisurely this time, wondering what secrets the lady was hiding. One thing
was certain though, that gown she was wearing wasn’t hiding any of them. As he
watched the exchange between her and Lord closely, he reached for another glass
of champagne, preferring something stronger like a shot of whiskey. Taking a
sip, his gaze narrowed on the way she rolled her shoulder out from under Lord’s
caressing hand, the action causing Brent’s mouth to curve into a knowing smile.