Sarah's Surrender (10 page)

She couldn't speak, couldn't form any words and then she found that an answer wasn't necessary as he pulled her mouth back to his and began kissing her again in forceful need. She'd never been kissed this way, with such unrelenting heat. He was devouring her, taking what he needed from her, drinking in her breath, her life, her very essence.

She didn't know how long they clung together, it was too long; it wasn't long enough.

Childish laughter spilled into their dark corner from the sidewalk, a mother's voice as she called to one of her children.

The spell around them was broken and Sarah pushed against him as he lifted his head. He let go of her waist and wrapped her face in between his hands. He tilted her so he could see in her eyes and studied her for a long moment in silence. His expression was dark and unfathomable in the night. She had no idea what he was trying to see.

He leaned down, and softly kissed her on the forehead. The touch was brief, but not so brief that she didn't feel its impact. It was a tenderness unlike any she had seen from him before, and confusion hit her square between the eyes as he took her hand and began leading her back to the sidewalk.

She followed him in silence to the car, her heart beating loudly as he kept her fingers laced through his.

He ushered her into the car and when he sat back down behind the wheel, he didn't look at her or say anything more.

But he lifted her left hand and entwined her fingers through his and rubbed her bare ring finger back and forth with his thumb. His hand didn't still on hers for many miles; he continually caressed her fingers between his, rubbed her palm, and slid the pads of his fingers over the flesh-toned polish on her nails.

The big SUV ate up the miles as his hand continued to learn the contours of hers. Few words were spoken between them. He asked her if she was cool enough, he pointed out the moon rising in the sky.

She answered him softly, too stunned at his actions to form a decent reply. His anger seemed to have dissipated and disappeared completely and in its place was a man she didn't recognize. A man she didn't recognize, but a man she was very much afraid she wanted to get to know better.

****

"What?" Jaime's voice held a tone of stunned surprise as she asked Sarah to repeat the question.

"Do you know who John Garrett is?" she asked for the second time.

"Sarah--" Jaime's voice dwindled off and by her reaction, Sarah realized that her friend knew exactly whom she was asking about.

"I'm going to take that as a 'yes,'" Sarah said.

"Yes, and the answer is
don't even think about it."
Jaime's voice was adamant.

"That bad?" she asked.

Her friend paused only momentarily. "That bad and more so. Where did you meet him?"

"I've met him several times. We went to San Antonio last night for dinner." Sarah tried to inject a tone of lightness to her voice.

"No, you
did not."
Shock, pure and simple bled from Jaime's voice.

"Yeah, we did--"

Jaime cut Sarah off. "What about Randall? Seriously, the guy is laid-back but I'm not sure he'd actually like you
dating
another man."

"It wasn't really a date. I broke it off with Randall this morning."

Stunned silence came from the end of the phone. Sarah waited for the explosion that she knew was coming.

She wasn't wrong.

"You can't date John Garrett, Sarah. I'm glad you broke it off with Randall. I'm not saying I'm not. The guy doesn't deserve you and I've never thought y'all were a good match. But you
cannot
start up with John Garrett. I forbid it."

"You forbid it?" Sarah found humor in that incredulous statement.

"Absolutely."

"Okay, tell me what you know about him," Sarah said in a resigned tone of voice.

"I know he's a player. But he's worse that that. He's a user. He's a man slut, Sarah. He's rich, he always gets what he wants, and he's gone through every woman in a hundred mile radius."

Sarah had an unappetizing suspicion. "Have you slept with him, Jaime?" She held her breath and just went ahead and asked the question that was uppermost in her mind.

"No!
I've never even spoken to him. And you shouldn't, either. Do you know who Susan Ralls is?"

The name seemed vaguely familiar to Sarah but she couldn't place her. "No."

"Well, about six months ago, she started seeing him. They dated a few times, and she was head over heels.
I mean head over heels
. He slept with her three times and then dumped her. She was crushed. And Sarah, seriously, she's pretty, intelligent--"

"I get the picture."

"Do you? He's bad news. After his wife died--"

"His wife died?" Sarah's breath caught in her throat. The idea that he'd been married before hadn't occurred to her. She was agitated by the sliver of disturbing discomfort she felt at the knowledge. And did he have children, as well?

"Yeah. Three or four years ago. She was in a horrible wreck and died on impact. He's been a different person ever since. They must have been seriously in love. He turned into a hermit, and practically didn't leave the house for a year. Everyone said he was devastated and rumor had it that he was being true to her. But all of a sudden, in the blink of an eye, and for no apparent reason, he went on the make. And it's been that way ever since. He told Dolan Carver that he'd never marry again, and Dolan told Savannah Henderson.

Sarah shifted restlessly as she digested the information. "Does he have any kids?"

"No, none that I know of."

Sarah didn't respond and Jaime continued, "Seriously, Sarah, you can't start up with him. Greg already messed you up enough. Now you've just broken it off with Randall. Nothing good can come from this. Don't be stupid."

A moment of silence pulsed between them and at Sarah's continued silence, Jaime asked, "How'd Randall take it?"

"He tried to talk me out of it," Sarah said.

"No doubt. God knows how long it took him to find a woman who couldn't see through his deception."

"What deception?" Sarah asked.

"That closet door he keeps his homosexuality hidden behind."

"He's not gay," Sarah said.

Jaime let out a breath. "I don't care if he's gay or not. Just sayin' that gay men don't make the best husbands." She paused and then altered her statement. "For women, anyway."

"I'm not going to argue with you about it. It's a moot point since we won't be getting married."

"So tell me about the date that wasn't a date." Jaime turned the conversation back to John Garrett and Sarah had little problem keeping up with her.

"It was basically a business meeting. I'm trying to get him to fund the retirement home."

Jaime knew all about Sarah's relentless pursuit to help the school. "Oh. My. God. I can't believe you had enough nerve to ask him. That's going to take a shit ton of money. How'd he react?"

"Pretty much just like that. He wanted to know why I thought he should spend that much money on Top Hill when he doesn't live here. And the only answer I could come up with was that it was the right thing to do."

"So he didn't promise the money?"

"Not yet."

"And that's it? That's the way the whole evening went?"

"Well, that and him demanding I break my engagement and trying to--"

"He's why you broke it off?"

"Are you just now putting two and two together?" Sarah asked. "I'm not saying I want to start up anything with him, but he made me realize that it wouldn't work with Randall."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"What? No!"

"Are you sure? It must've taken something for you to finally see the light."

Sarah didn't see any reason not to be honest. "The guy packs a punch. He's sexy."

"Did he kiss you?"

Sarah thought about the devastating impact of the embraces they had shared. Describing them as nothing more than a kiss wasn't right. But she had no idea how to express the almost violent emotions he brought out in her. And she didn't want to try, either. "Yeah, he did."

"Well?" Jaime demanded.

"Well, what?" Sarah asked.

"Was it good?"

"I broke up with my fiancé, didn't I?"

"Got it. Again,
don't sleep with him
. I'm warning you, I don't want to be the one left to pick up the pieces."

Sarah absorbed that final warning. "Noted."

****

Sarah spent the day watching old movies on tape while it rained outside. The tapes had belonged to her grandmother, and even though the picture could have been clearer, she easily forgot about her angst as she watched several classic chick flicks from the eighties.

It was after nine o'clock and the sun had completely set when her doorbell pealed. She was lounging on the couch and her body jerked as the noise jangled loudly and echoed through the room. She sat up straight and stared at the door.

An arrow of fear slid through her as she realized exactly how alone she was on the small farm. She was far off the beaten track and could count on her fingers how many times in her life she'd heard that doorbell ring.

Rarely, if ever. She was at least a mile away from the closest neighbor, and while she was growing up, if anyone wanted to visit, they usually called first.

For the most part, growing up in a large city had made Sarah wary of strangers. She was never quite comfortable out here all by herself. The daytime was one thing, but night was something altogether different. Trying to block out a sudden scene from
The Texas Chain Saw Massacre
, she stood up and rubbed her sweaty palms down the sides of her shorts and walked slowly toward the door.

The old-fashioned front door didn't contain a peep hole, but it had three pieces of inset glass at about eye level. The porch light wasn't on, and she realized that if she looked through the glass, with the lamp on in the living room, whoever was on the outside would see her better than she could see them. But if she flipped the porch light on first, whoever was out there would definitely know she was inside. Her footsteps stalled as she tried to figure out what to do. Her heart was beating viciously and her legs were barely holding her up they were shaking so hard.

She picked her cell phone up and stood in the middle of the room in frozen indecision. The doorbell went off again and a staccato rapping began as someone knocked on the door. "Sarah, open the door." When she recognized the voice behind that shout, she almost fell to the floor in relief.

She walked to the door as she tried to steady her breathing and flipped the porch light on. She looked through the window and John stood on the step, getting wet from the rain being forced under the eaves from the driving wind.

She opened the lock on the doorknob but left the chain intact as she pulled the door open a few inches. "You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?"

"Open the door," he ordered in a bark.

With Jaime's mandate about not sleeping with him ringing through her head, she hesitated only momentarily and then pushed the door closed and unhooked the chain. When she pulled it open, he pushed against it with his palm and opened the door wide enough to slip inside. Shutting it against the rain and wind, he turned and faced her.

Lacerated by the residual fear still quaking through her, Sarah's stomach began churning with John's sudden appearance in the dark of the night. A bolt of lightning crashed outside and she flinched and crossed her arms over her chest as she took a step backwards. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh as he caught and held her eyes.

The conversation she'd had with Jaime replayed loudly in her brain and she remembered her friend's warning. She tried to remember that he was a danger to her sanity, a threat to her equilibrium.

He stood against the door watching her, not making a move toward her and not saying a word, either. She studied him while she tried to control the too-fast cadence of her heartbeat. She recognized the untapped power coiling through his frame; he exuded masculinity as he studied her in return. He had a vital strength that attracted her, his tall figure was deliciously appealing as he stood before her, his clothes wet from the rain. His hair was darker than usual, the wet strands gleaming in the lamplight as they clung to his forehead, a stark contrast to his deeply tanned skin.

"You make the phone call?" he asked in a deep, too silky voice.

Sarah's brain splintered as she thought for a moment of the phone call she'd made to Jaime, asking her friend about him. Then it hit her what he was talking about; he was asking if she'd made the phone call to end her engagement. "Yes," she breathed out.

"You broke it off?" he demanded.

"Yes," she answered softly.

He pushed off the door with a booted foot and began prowling toward her. His eyes held something in them that she was too nervous to contemplate. He exuded a single-mindedness that showed no sign of letting up as he came toward her with that damned arrogant swagger of his firmly in place.

Sarah took another step back and lifted a hand to ward him off. "But--"

He grabbed her hand and cut her off. "No buts." He pulled her to him, and the force of the movement on her hand propelled her torso towards his. Her chest crashed against his and he wrapped his other arm around her. "Finally,
Jesus,
" he muttered as his mouth lowered to hers.

Sarah felt his scent wash over her, and need, swift and immediate, raced through her veins. She wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him back; the intoxicating pressure of his body against hers pounded a relentless beat to surrender. Her pulse danced with excitement and she rode the wave that sizzled through her bloodstream, ignoring the warning,
"Stop!"
that her brain was screaming from the sidelines.

His hand released her wrist, moved to the hem of her shirt and peeled it over her head, the force of the movement breaking the kiss and jostling her arms away from his neck.

It took her totally by surprise, and it was the catalyst she needed to get a grip on her runaway emotions. She took several deep gulps and when he wrapped his arms around her waist again, she wedged her hands between them and began pushing against his chest. She needed to slow him down.