Yours to Savor (19 page)

Maybe the guy was worse than she made had him out to be. He could be stalking her, or something like that. That might make sense why she stayed so low-key. In the early days of his business, before Brandon had met Clarisse, he’d come across some very unsavory characters. He knew how widespread drug use was in those financial firms. Could Henry have been like that? Maybe that was part of the problem Sandra found in Dallas.

Or was she hiding from something else?

Brandon wanted Sandra to trust him enough to confide her innermost secrets. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He wanted… a real relationship.

Brandon had thought it would be just a trial run at first. But something about Sandra had
stuck.
She’d tunneled her way into his mind, and taken root. She wasn’t at all like the women he’d spent time with before. The only one who drew parallels to her was Clarisse.

Sandra let out a tiny whimper as he ran his hand down her back and left it there. Brandon squeezed his eyes shut to control himself. That sound… it was enough to make him go hard.

This is definitely more than a trial run.

The musicians were a nice touch
, he thought, forcing himself to dwell on something other than the sensual woman pressed tight against him. He had to remember to thank Clarisse for the suggestion.

They glided to a table, where a butler held a tray of flutes. Brandon took a glass and handed it to her.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Champagne.” He smiled. “I remember you liked the Clos d’Ambonnay. This is an even better vintage.”

Sandra brought the flute to her nose to take a deep breath. She closed her eyes, relishing the aroma, then brought it to her lips, taking a fragile sip… and shivered.

“You like it?”

“It’s extravagant.”

Brandon smiled. Instead of picking up another glass for himself, he took hers. Locking eyes with Sandra, he turned the rim to where a faint smear of her lipstick still remained. Then, with deliberate showmanship
,
he brought it to his own mouth, drinking from the same spot that touched her lips.

Some part of
her
still lingered there, and the flavor of the wine faded to nothing in comparison. This time,
Brandon
shivered.

Sandra laughed, a sound as precious as a breeze of mountain air rippling across a chilly lake. She reached up and brushed her elegant fingers across his knuckles. His desire nearly ripped his heart out before he could force it down. She batted her eyelashes at him, and smiled almost shyly. Brandon swore her pupils dilated.

He pulled her into him again, setting the glass down, and they continued to sway to the music.

All of Sandra’s little mannerisms, from the sexy way she pursed her lips just before she spoke, to the way her eyes shone when she laughed, stroked the fire within him. She was smart and witty, with a beautiful face, a sensual body, and that amazing dark-rooted blonde hair. Brandon wanted to make her feel beautiful, admired, and to give her everything she deserved.

He couldn’t say
why
he wanted it. In a way, Sandra was a diamond in the rough. He had a feeling she dissembled ninety percent of the time, but every so often, the mask would slip… and Brandon caught sight of her true person. He wanted her to trust him enough to show that side to him
always
.

He was sure that she hid herself from the world. Brandon didn’t know why. Not knowing clawed at his mind. He wanted to liberate her from that self-imposed prison. He wanted to open her mind to her own potential, to give her the
freedom
she obviously lacked. He wanted to be the one to protect her in all her vulnerabilities.

Sandra leaned in to lay her head on his shoulder. Her long, silky hair brushed against the sensitive skin of his cheek. Brandon stiffened suddenly. It was such an innocent gesture on her part; there was no way she could have known what it would do to him. But her hair was his personal aphrodisiac. Ever since he’d first seen her, he’d wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it, to take a rich handful and inhale, to feel it brush against his bare neck, shoulders, and chest as they made love…

Sandra must have sensed his discomfort, because she looked up. “Is something wrong?”

Brandon took a controlled breath, forcing a smile. When she peered up at him, those silver eyes dug at his soul. “No.” He brushed a hand along her jaw, letting his finger linger for a moment by her mouth. Sandra’s lips parted slightly, her eyelids fluttered, and she shuddered. She actually
shuddered
.

Fuck!
Brandon had to think hard to focus on something other than his boiling desire.

Shopping. That was it.
Sending Sandra shopping had been brilliant because it had accomplished two things: one, it had allowed her to finally wear clothes that did justice to her body; and two, it gave Clarisse a chance to spend time with her. Brandon wanted to see what Clarisse thought of Sandra. There was nobody in the world whose advice he trusted more.

And after their few hours together, Clarisse got the same impression Brandon did: some part of Sandra was very deeply walled off. “
The girl has a certain sophistication, I’ll admit,”
Clarisse had said,
“but be careful with her, Brandon. She withdraws at even the slightest attempt to get close. If you insist on this courtship, don’t be surprised if you’re saddled with baggage
by the end. You’re risking Pandora’s Box with her, and all the misery that follows. If you’re searching for love, I’d advise you to look elsewhere.”

“You know there’s only one woman I ever loved,”
he told her,
“and she spurned me without reason.”

“Not without reason,”
Clarisse had responded gently. She’d reached up, brushed his face with a soft hand.
“I loved your father, not you.”

After that conversation, Brandon knew it would take more than two nights of romance to crack Sandra’s shell. That was why tonight could not end with sex. It didn’t matter that they both wanted it. Her body might already respond to him—and his to her—but he needed to have her
mind
, too. He couldn’t have her hesitant to let him in. Everything he knew about reading people came from Clarisse, and all the signs told him that Sandra still had reservations about him, somewhere in the deeper recesses of her being.

Sex had never been more than a form of recreation to Brandon. His previous lovers had merely satisfied his sensual desires. Maybe he was trying too hard to be romantic, but when he finally made love to Sandra, he wanted it to be meaningful.

The only way he knew to accomplish that was to have her utter trust. It involved investing time in getting to know her better.

Brandon pulled his hand away from Sandra’s lip. It was the most difficult withdrawal of his life.

She frowned slightly and pushed away, placing both hands on his chest to peer into his eyes. “You’re tense. Is there something on your mind?”

Brandon gave her his easiest smile. “I’m just thinking about you.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times in that sexy way she did when she was surprised. “What about me?”

“I’m just hoping this second date is what you expected.”

“
Better
,” Sandra sighed, content once more. “Except…”

Brandon grew alarmed. “Except?”

Sandra shook her head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“No.” Brandon took her hands in his, brought them between their chests. “Tell me.”

Sandra took a breath. “That waitress…” she began.

Brandon didn’t follow. “Who?”

“The one who first took our order. She was beautiful. You must have seen her.”

Brandon smiled again. This time, there was no need to force it. “I didn’t notice. I only have eyes for you,” he replied honestly.

She sighed as if that small sentiment meant the world to her, and settled into his chest again.

Did the waitress make Sandra jealous
? Brandon thought, amused. Somehow, that turned his attraction to her up a whole other notch.
I told her the truth. I can barely recall the waitress’s face.

They swayed together, back and forth to the peaceful melody
.
The smell of her hair intertwined with her womanhood, enticing his senses, stirring his blood toward the heights of dangerous
passion. Brandon realized with a heavy heart that the night would have to come to an end soon. Otherwise, his desire for Sandra would be impossible to control.

But not just yet. He enjoyed having her warmth and softness pressed up against him too much to make another abrupt end of things.

Temptation gnawed at him, but he couldn’t push things tonight. Sandra sighed again, and Brandon
forced
himself to think of something else. But what? There was… there was that lingering feeling that he should recognize her from somewhere. It never went away. Even now, as he looked down at her, something teased the back of his mind. He was certain he’d encountered her ash-gray eyes, her flowing blonde hair, at one time or another in his life. Trying to remember
where
was like having a word on the tip of your tongue: so close, yet forever out of reach.

She said she was from Chicago. So was he. However, he’d left the city a long time ago. Sandra was too young to have known him, then.

With a start, he realized he didn’t know her age.

“How old are you, Sandra?” he asked abruptly.

“Hmm?” she purred, a contented cat rousing from a nap on his shoulder. “Oh. Why?”

“I just realized I don’t know.”

“Twenty-five.”

He did a quick calculation in his head. She was eight years younger than him, and he had left Chicago when he was eighteen. She would have been just ten years old. Much too young for him to remember. They must have met elsewhere in life, then.

“And you?” she asked.

He smiled. “Guess.”

“Do you want me to guess high, or guess low?”

He raised his brows in surprise. This one had a quick wit when it suited her, it seemed. “Guess high.”

“High. Hmm. Let me think. Thirty-one?”

He chuckled. “That’s guessing
high
?”

“I was going to say twenty-eight, but you seem much too accomplished for that.”

“I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not,” he joked.

“Why?” she pushed back to stare up at him through long, natural lashes. “Brandon, how old
are
you?”

“I’m thirty-three.” He reached up to brush the back of his hand against her soft cheek, and she shuddered immediately beneath his touch.
Fuck
. He knew he couldn’t let himself drive her to the hotel, not when she was this responsive to him. He’d never be able to control himself around her, then. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“It was
perfect
,” she sighed, and leaned into him again. With her hips so close to his, he felt the blood rushing to his shaft. He stepped back.
Not now. Not tonight
.

“Come,” he said through gritted teeth. “We’ve got to get you home.”

“Oh? Already?”

“Yes.” It was hard to focus on platonic thoughts with her scent rousing his blood. “I’ll drive you.”
Fuck! Fuck!
He couldn’t think straight—not when he had this beautiful, willing woman under him, not when he had to force down thoughts of seducing her
and
control his erection at the same time.

I’ll drive her
, he decided,
but I will
not
go into the hotel
with her.
He still remembered the taste of her lips from when he had kissed her, the way she reciprocated instantly and opened her body to him. It drove him crazy knowing that he had to deny himself that again.
I’ll have her in time
, he told himself firmly,
just not tonight.

“I’d like that. Let’s go back.” Her soft purr held the suggestion of just a little more.