Sarah's Surrender (15 page)

And he planned on it. Soon. Oh, yeah, it had been as good as he expected.

But why in the hell had he not wanted to use a condom? He
always
used a condom. He never trusted a woman when she claimed to be on birth control, and he never trusted a woman with his health.
Ever.

So why had it been different with Sarah? Not only had he believed her when she admitted she was protected from pregnancy, but for whatever goddamn reason, some shining light over her beautiful, silky hair maybe, he had instinctively trusted her to be clean, as well.

It was an anomaly that he couldn't explain. His mind slid down a dark tunnel to the past as he thought of all the women he'd screwed. There had been a lot of them. But he was always careful. Careful not to spread his seed around, careful not to catch anything that wouldn't wash off.

He'd been supremely careful ever since he'd caught his wife cheating on him. She'd been the golden girl in their small town, everyone thought she was angelic and beautiful. It had been a huge shock to find out she hadn't been a virgin, as she'd forced his hand by making him wait, and not only that, but that her sexual proclivities ran to things he wasn't interested in. She'd become bored with their sex lives within months of the marriage, and had started complaining for new and better ways to spice it up. He remembered his naive assumption that she might want fuzzy pink handcuffs or edible panties. What a dumb fuck he'd been. No, her idea of spice was adding another man in the equation, and that had been so fucking ridiculous to John that he'd laughed in her face, even though he hadn't thought it a bit funny.

He remembered being hurt, but surprisingly, not jealous. But her deviant suggestion had put him off her, and their sex lives had gone stale for a week or two. And that's all it had taken for her to crawl into his best friend's bed.

That
had nearly devastated him, but it wasn't her betrayal that had nearly killed him. It had been his friend and business partner cuckolding him, going behind his back and sleeping with his wife that accomplished that trick. That was the day he'd become a total cynic, his harsh attitude and basic tendencies had been pushed over the edge and gone into freefall.

He wasn't a forgiving man and within weeks had filed for divorce, and put into motion a forced sale of the business he'd worked his ass off for ten years. His partner had worked hard all those years along side him, and although they had split the profits, the return on their initial investment had been substantial.

As long as he was smart, he'd never have to work again.

His former friend had pulled up stakes and left town, refusing to take John's soon-to-be ex-wife with him. And that had set her off the rails. She'd already been a heavy drinker and habitual drug user, something else he'd found out about soon after their ill-fated marriage, and the knowledge that she'd lost him and his money due to his ironclad prenuptial had sent her into a downward spiral she never recovered from.

All their divorce lacked was her signature the day she had died. Weeks after the fact, all John really felt was a guilty relief and pity for her widowed father who lost his only child that day.

His mind ran through his past as his hand made a path along Sarah's silky arm. For sure, this was the first day since he found out his wife was a slut that he'd wanted to have sex with a woman without a condom. What he felt for Sarah wasn't something he cared to analyze, but he knew without a doubt, that it wouldn't pass in a few weeks as it had with all his previous partners. He uneasily acknowledged that he thought of Sarah as his, as his lover, and he had never assigned that description to any of the other women he'd bedded. They'd been temporary, he always knew that going in, and the only reason he had needed them was for the relief they'd brought.

Now she was pushing against the arm that held her pinned to him and he felt his grasp on her tighten. Where the hell did she think she was going?

"John." The soft word was an entreaty to let her go.

"What?"

"I need to clean up."

"No, you don't."

"I need to pee," she added, giving him a bit more description. He didn't know if he believed it, but he let her loose anyway. After all, it was her house, and he damn sure wasn't going anywhere.

Sarah reached down and quickly lifted her t-shirt to cover herself. It was broad daylight, and this was all so new. She cringed inwardly as she made her way to the bathroom as quickly as she could. She couldn't decide what to cover up first. Her body was far from perfect, and her cellulite was on display in all its glory.

John watched her as she picked up her t-shirt and held it over her chest as she walked across the room. Her backside was splendidly, brilliantly, naked. He propped his arm behind his head and enjoyed the view. Her ass was perfect.

Her front was perfect. Her tits were perfect. He felt himself swell again and he looked around and lifted a tissue from the bedside table and took off the soiled condom. He cleaned himself with the tissue and tossed both into the small trash can under the bed.

When she came back, he lifted his hand for her to come to him, and after a brief hesitation, she walked straight into his arms.

****

Two days later, John was drying off from his shower when his cell phone rang. He wrapped the towel around his hips and wasn't shocked anymore to feel the momentary pleasure when Sarah's name appeared. He'd stayed at her house for two nights in a row, and had left both mornings to take care of his cattle. The sex between them was indescribable, and as it was Friday night, he had the idea of driving into town and taking her to the diner for supper. He wanted everyone to see her with him. He pushed that curious thought to the back of his brain and injected a teasing note in his voice as he picked up her call. "Hey, dream-girl."

There was a moment of silence on the other end and he thought for a second they didn't have a good connection, but then she finally spoke. "John."

Maybe he'd just taken her by surprise. He hadn't called her by that silly name since that long ago night. "Yeah?" he asked.

He heard her take a deep breath and then she began speaking in one long breath without taking a break or even a breath in between. "I know you're going to be pissed but I don't think you should be and I'm just going to say this and I know you're not going to like it but I don't want you to think I'm trying to deceive you or go behind your back or something so I just want you to know that I'm going to the Cut-n-Shoot with Jaime."

John tried to make sense of her rambling words and then all he heard was 'Cut-n-Shoot' and 'Jaime.' His answer was instantaneous. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. She's pulling up in front of my house right now."

"Don't get in the car." The reverberations of his voice thundered in his head.

"I have to get in the car. She's my friend."

"Sarah, I'm warning you--"

"I'm about to hang up the phone because I don't want her to hear any of this. She's my friend, I love her, she's upset and wants me with her tonight and I've only known you for a few weeks. And this is all so crazy. But here's the deal." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I'd probably be upset if you took off and went there without me so I'll understand completely if you show up." She swallowed. "I'll even be happy to see you."

He didn't even have to think about it. "I'm half an hour behind you."

He heard her sigh in what sounded like relief. "Thank you, John."

"You best not dance with anyone," he threatened. "Shit can happen in thirty minutes."

"Not a problem," she agreed simply. "I'll be waiting for you."

"And you better not be wearing those tight-ass little shorts when I get there."

He heard her suck in a breath. "Too late."

The line went dead.

Chapter Seven

John took a drink of the beer in his hand and zeroed in on the beautiful, clumsy chick as she tried to accomplish a turn with everyone else who was dancing the line dance. He couldn't contain a small smirk as the degree of her awkwardness had a direct correlation on the degree of heat in his groin. Her legs were absolutely fantastic, and she turned him on hard and fast, but the girl was not a dancer.

He didn't give a shit. He didn't want her for her dancing.

The answer to what he wanted her for was cut off when the song ended and people began leaving the dance floor. She looked at him and smiled but her friend grabbed her hand and led her to the bar.

There were very few men close to her at the moment, and John took the opportunity to take care of something he needed to do.

He walked over to Steven's booth and nodded a greeting at the other man and then cut to the chase. "I need to borrow your office."

The other man grimaced and John knew he was being unfair. But he wanted those damn keys and he wanted them now. "You let me have your office for the night and I'll let you skip next month's payment."

The other man's eyes narrowed in question. "Defer it?"

"No. Skip it."

The words had barely left his mouth before the keys came sailing across the air. His instincts were right on target and he lifted his hand and caught them in mid-air. "Thanks."

****

Sarah turned from the bar while she waited for Jaime to be served and looked around the room. She spied him immediately. He was maybe forty feet away, leaning against the bar, and watching her through slitted eyes. He watched her intently, his gaze riveted on her face. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't seem to be angry. He just watched her, a smoldering fire in his eyes.

And he waited. She knew he was watching and waiting for her. A molten ribbon of need cascaded through her bloodstream.

He stood alone, and Sarah watched as a woman came up to him. The other woman looked confident and was beautiful, but John shooed her off without once taking his eyes from Sarah. A hot rush of fever wrapped around her like a soft blanket, and a surge of sexual excitement jangled along her nerve-endings.

Suddenly, his face was laced in a scowl and he began shaking his head at her. It was then that she realized that a tall cowboy was standing by her side, asking her something. She looked over at him briefly and without having so much as a clue what he was asking her, with a soft smile, she said 'no thanks,' and then turned back to John.

He seemed to relax again, but he didn't make any move toward her. Sarah was mildly aware of the loud music around them, and then Jaime was tugging on her arm and leading her in the opposite direction toward a table not far from the dance floor. Sarah's eyes broke from John's as she followed her friend and took a seat at the table.

Jaime had dressed to kill tonight, and Sarah was mildly amused to see that her friend was drawing attention already. She'd had a particularly rough day at work, and Sarah had commiserated with her earlier about what an ass her boss was. Sarah secretly thought that Jaime had a thing for him but wouldn't admit it.

She tried to concentrate on her friend, tried to listen to her tale of woe and heartache. Sarah admitted that between the loud music and her inability to concentrate on anything besides John, she was only catching a bit of what Jaime was pouring out. Something about her boss blowing hot and cold, and never giving her a definitive clue as to what he really wanted.

Sarah's attention was caught when a waitress appeared by their sides, with drinks they hadn't ordered. A beer the same brand as the one Jaime was drinking, and a Screwdriver for her. She looked toward the last place she had seen John, but he wasn't there. Her eyes moving around the room, she finally located him on a barstool where he sat and nursed his beer and openly stared at her. She sent him a soft smile and lifted her drink in his direction.

Jamie hadn't even noticed John or the drinks he sent over and continued her tirade. Sarah kept one ear open and listened while her real attention stayed centered on the male at the bar who watched her and waited like she was some kind of prey he was silently stalking.

Excitement hit her deep in the belly from the game they were playing.

And then two cowboys appeared at their table and the game suddenly escalated to higher stakes as John sat up straight, his shoulders stiffened and his eyes flashed with deadly intent.

He didn't make a move, but Sarah knew if she couldn't get rid of the new arrivals in approximately five seconds, then all bets were off.

The guys were both young, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three, they both were tall, and they were both good-looking. Jaime didn't waste a second before she smiled in their direction and began the introductions. The two men moved to sit down. Sarah knew she needed to say something. When you got down to it, she was here with John, whether it looked like it or not and she needed to get that across to them quickly.

"I'm here with somebody."

Jaime looked at her and said, "Yeah, me."

"No, I'm with John," Sarah announced firmly.

"What? He's here?"

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me." Jaime was giving her a blistering stare.

"I didn't see the need."

"He followed you here?" her friend asked.

"Yes."

"He's a stalker, Sarah."

"No, he's not, I told him we were coming. I invited him."

The two men were listening to the rapid-fire conversation between the friends and then one of them broke in. "Well, I don't see anybody. Guess he shouldn't have left you all alone. You look like fair game to me."

"I'm not fair game and y'all either need to get moving or I will." Sarah began to stand.

"Sarah, stay there." Jaime looked at the man closest to her and began giving instructions. "How about we dance and your friend takes a walk?"

At that, the 'friend' swung his arm around Sarah and said, "Finders, keepers. I'm staying put. Don't see anybody anyway." Sarah tensed as she looked up and saw John stalking to the table.

She stiffened her shoulders. The look on his face was deadly and she didn't want any bloodshed. This was all so ridiculous, really. One minute she was in Dallas and engaged to the calmest man alive, and the next minute, somehow, she belonged to Neanderthal man. She cleared her throat and tried to throw off the guy's arm. "Dude. He's right there. Get your freakin' arm off me."