Sarah's Surrender (9 page)

"Tell me why I should fund this," he said in an angry voice as he took a sip of wine.

"Well, like you said, it's a worthy write-off. And it would be good for the town--"

"I live in a different town," he disputed.

"Yes, but it would be good for the children--"

He interrupted her again. "In fact, it would be better for my town if Top Hill school closed all together. The kids would be bussed to Duluth, and we'd get the revenue."

"Yes, but--"

"So tell me how funding this project wouldn't be stabbing my own friends and neighbors in the back?"

"Stabbing them in the b-back?"

"Yeah. How is spending my money on your school, your town, good for me?"

"I haven't quite thought of it like that. I don't think a good deed for Top Hill will hurt Duluth, though. Duluth doesn't have the revenue now, and they really don't need it."

"The citizens of Duluth won't see it that way. All they'll see is me, spending my money elsewhere when it would be better spent at home."

Sarah studied him quietly and tried to hit him where it would annoy him the most, his ego. "You don't seem like the kind of man who would let other people try to tell you how to spend your money."

"Nice try, babe, but you're trying to tell me how to spend my money, aren't you?"

"What do you want me to say?" she asked him quietly.

"I want a reason for spending my money for the benefit of Top Hill." He pushed his wine glass away and took a drink of water as he waited for her answer.

She stalled only briefly. "Because it's the right thing to do."

"That's not going to cut it, Sarah."

Her chest heaved in agitation. "You told me you'd consider it!"

"I am considering it. You're just not giving me any facts."

"I don't know what to tell you! The town will die if nothing is done." She paused and searched his face. "Please. I don't want that to happen. I don't want it to dwindle and die. I want--"

"What about what I want?" he asked her bluntly.

Sarah's gaze was caught and held by his. His eyes radiated a savage, inner fire that licked streams of heat through her middle. They were sharp, assessing her as if he knew a secret that she didn't. A secret she wasn't going to like.

Sarah stiffened imperceptibly and sat up straighter in her chair. "What do you want?"

She held herself still while he reached across the table and lifted her left hand and laced her fingers with his, their palms touching. His grip tightened, then loosened, then tightened again in a rhythmical pattern that sent coils of sensual fire radiating through her and landing like a million butterflies set off in her stomach.

"First, I want you to realize that I already donate more than my fair share to charity. Enough to soothe my conscience, and more than even the good church people expect of me. And I want you to understand that the only reason,
the only
damn reason I'd ever even consider this is because
you're
asking me to."

"But--I thought we were going to keep--things--separate."

"We are," he said firmly.

"But I don't understand--"

"We're going to keep things separate as much as we possibly can," he paused and rubbed his thumb over her now-bare ring finger, "but there's no getting away from the fact that if you weren't who you are, I'd have sent you packing when you were in my office."

She closed her eyes. "No, I don't want it to be this way. Don't say any more."

He ignored her request and kept on talking. "We need to buy some time. Have you done enough research to know how long Top Hill can keep functioning the way it is now?"

She tried to focus on his question and thought it through. "Three or four years probably."

"Okay." He continued to rub his thumb over her skin in a circular pattern. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to put it on the back burner awhile. Get to know each other a bit--"

"No, please--"

"Sarah."
His tone was a call to attention and her eyes flew from his fingers on her hand back to his face. "If I hand over the money now, you're going to get all pissy on me and start acting like it's a payment for sex and that'll never work."

John watched her face blanch of all color at the same time she began trying to free her hand. He clenched his fingers around hers and held her still.

Her eyes were steady on his across the table. "I'm not having sex with you."

"Oh, yeah, you are. And soon."

"Just because I took off the ring doesn't mean--"

His fingers squeezed hers with ruthless intent. "Yeah, it fucking well
does mean
. You need to get that straight in your head right now. I'm sick of you denying the inevitable. I'm not going to let you play some bullshit game of hard to get. Maybe if you lived here all year round I'd let you get away with that shit. But it's not happening, babe. You're not going to run from me for six or eight weeks and then when you finally get me addicted to your sweet little pussy--"

"Oh my God!"

"--when you finally get me addicted to you, then you up and leave? Bullshit. That's not happening. Don't think you'll be able to control me, because you won't."

"Who raised you?"
She began pulling on her hand with as much force as she could without drawing attention to them. "Who put it in that arrogant, conceited, thick skull of yours that you could get away with treating women the way you do?"

She finally managed to get her hand free and he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her steadily for several long moments. "I don't treat women this way." His eyes ran over her face and then dropped to her chest. "Just you."

"Just me?" She was breathing raggedly. "Am I supposed to feel flattered?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "You're not supposed to feel anything. I'm only telling you how it's going to be. A couple of fu--a couple of
times
with you won't be enough. We're going to need time to work it out of our system."

"Work it out of our system?"
Her tone was incredulous.

"Yeah."

She turned her head away from him and mumbled under her breath,
"Oh my God. Dear God, help me."
And then she turned back to face him. "You think you can get away with this because you're rich, right? So obscenely rich and good-looking that you can get away with anything."

He watched her for a long, heated moment before his lips curved into a smile. "You think I'm good-looking?"

Sarah stared steadily back at him for a moment before she could get any words out.
"That's
what you got out of all that?"

"I think you're as sexy as
all get out,"
he fired back.

Her eyes widened as she took him in. She didn't know what to think. She absolutely didn't know what to think. She was speechless. He was beyond arrogant; he was beyond egotistical. He was infuriating, maddening, totally beyond the pale, and way, way too sexy for his own good. What in the hell did she see in him? He was conceited, controlling, obscene, and unrefined. And evidently, she was the stupidest woman alive because she was seriously considering starting something with him. She wanted to go to bed with him so badly she could barely think straight. It was that inborn arrogance. He was a bad-boy. And she was attracted to him. More than just attracted. She was beginning to ache for him. It had to be his swagger; the way he walked in those boots of his. Those scuffed up, dusty boots when she knew he could afford better.

Her thoughts were disjointed as she continued to try to reason with herself.

Why shouldn't she go to bed with him? It was a little slutty maybe, but hey, you only lived once. And just once, she wanted what
she wanted
. He certainly looked like all that arrogance was justified. He probably knew how to make a woman climax, and probably more than one way. True, she'd never had sex with somebody just for the hell of it. She'd always waited until she thought it would lead somewhere. And she hadn't had that many partners. Very few, actually. She'd started late, and after she'd been burned by her marriage, and suffered through a heartbreaking miscarriage, she'd been put off men for a long time.

Yep, once again, the thought came to her that she was more than likely going to lose this battle.

But why let him know so soon? Why let him off the hook? His supreme conceit and vulgarity deserved a put-down.

She was about to say something he wasn't going to like. She didn't believe in playing games in a relationship, but he had no intention of having a relationship, did he? And although she now knew for sure that she needed to make the phone call that would put an end to her engagement, she in no way thought that John Garrett would make long-term relationship material.

She sucked in a breath and prepared to punish him with words. "You are, by far, the most ill-mannered and conceited man I've ever met in my life. Thank you for reminding me how much of a gentleman Randall is. When we get back to your car, I want my ring back." None of that was technically a lie; Randall was a gentleman and she intended to see that he received his ring back.

John narrowed his eyes on her from across the table. He didn't believe her threat for one second, and it pissed him off that she would attempt to manipulate him. He tried to temper the fury that burned through his blood. "You're kind of ballsy, aren't you, hon?"

Some emotion that he couldn't identify glittered vividly in her eyes and he was watching her so closely he could tell she took a deep breath and held it. The tension between them increased as she didn't respond verbally to his question. She breathed shallowly, and he thought she only just managed to hold his eyes. He cut off the rest of what he wanted to say; she looked shaky enough already. There was no reason to continue this in the restaurant, he couldn't say what he wanted to with a million people around them. She'd pissed him off, and she was about to find that out.

He caught the server's eye, signaled for the check, and dropped a large denomination bill on the table that would be more than enough to take care of the meal. He pushed his chair back, walked around the table and put his hand on the back of her neck and squeezed. "Let's go." He attempted to control the gravelly sound of his voice and the pressure on her neck, but it was a lost cause as he held her tightly within his grasp.

Chapter Four

Sarah sat in her seat while her pulse rocketed upward. He'd seen through her attempt to rebuff him and now his large body loomed over hers and his hand on her neck was more than a subtle challenge; it was a threat to keep her in line. There was something in the way he called her 'hon' again, when he knew she hated it. There was something he wasn't saying, as well. Something that should have gone after his question, something that he was leaving unsaid. It was out there-- possibly a threat, possibly an ultimatum.

He grasped her neck tighter and unless she wanted to cause a scene, she had no choice but to stand up and let him lead her from the restaurant. She knew that to the casual eye, his hold on her would look like nothing more than a caress.

But she knew differently.

She'd angered him, and he was retaliating by removing her from the safety of the restaurant setting. She wasn't exactly scared, but there was no doubt that she wondered what his next move would be and she waited a bit apprehensively for it.

It was getting late as they walked out of the restaurant. The drive to San Antonio had taken over an hour, they had strolled on the River Walk before dinner, and now, as the night wore on, most of the crowds were gone and the sidewalks weren't near as populated as she would have liked them to be.

He took immediate advantage of that fact. They hadn't walked more than fifty yards before he pulled her away from the water's edge into a dark, narrow corridor between two buildings.

He swung her up against the rough brick and loomed over her in the darkness. His arms landed on either side of her head, and his torso crowded hers until there were only a couple of inches between them. He wasn't actually touching her, but for all intents and purposes, he held her captive.

"Don't start off by lying to me, Sarah," he said in a furious, whispered hiss next to her ear.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her chest but she managed to get a small grip on her runaway emotions. "How did I lie?" she asked him firmly, belligerence in her jawline as she pressed her back against the building, trying to put distance between them.

"You know what you said. You insinuated you're going to stay with the pussy boy. You insinuated you're going to put the fucking ring back on your finger." He lifted his face from her ear and looked straight in her eyes. "When we both know
that's not going to happen
."

He hung over her, blatantly male, with icy contempt in his voice. Sarah's head was spinning. His scent was all around her, an intoxicating, addictive smell that was turning her insides to mush. She hated his arrogance, but she couldn't deny the sexual attraction. She couldn't deny it to herself, but she would deny it to him. "It's not--"

His head swooped down and her words were cut off by his lips as they smothered hers. His tongue plunged deeply into her mouth and his hands fisted around her upper arms as he jerked her to him. Sarah's thoughts dwindled and died as need, hot and strong, gripped her body and paralyzed her brain.

His hands left her skin and one arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her into him while the other fell between them and captured her breast and began kneading it. He kissed her like a starving man, like he was ravenous and only she, and she alone, could save him.

Their lips clung and their tongues entwined as the heat rose between them. His hand left her breast and fastened around her face. She couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough oxygen and she pulled her mouth from under his and turned her face away, taking in large gulps of air. His mouth fell to her ear as he pushed her hair back. "I want you, Sarah. You're driving me insane. You've been driving me insane since the day I met you." His voice was a raspy growl in her ear and it shook her insides.