Sarah's Surrender

by Lynda Chance

  “Did you bring any platform sandals with you?” Jaime asked.

  “Yes,” Sarah answered.

  “With your legs? That’ll work.”

  ****

  John leaned against the wall in a darkened corner of the rowdy dancehall and studied the cluster-fuck of bodies turning on the dance floor. He watched with an arrow of both amusement and envy as his friend and neighbor, Raul Vega, danced his petite, dark-haired wife around the sawdust-sprinkled floor. It wasn’t that John wanted Elaina in any way, or that he begrudged Raul what he had found with her.

  But he couldn’t stop the thought that if he himself had made a better choice of wife, maybe things would be different now. Maybe he wouldn’t be so cynical about life and women in particular. Maybe if Monica hadn’t slept with his best friend and business partner, attempted to take everything he had after he’d filed for divorce, maybe he could continue to see the good in life. And the fact that she’d done it with his best goddamn friend. He knew the experience had changed him irrevocably; he was harshly critical and judgmental. He’d built up a figurative fence around himself and a literal fence around his ranch. He liked complete isolation. It was easier that way. He doubted that would ever change.

  He continued to watch the other couple. Raul didn’t seem to be much of a dancer, but you couldn’t tell it from the way Elaina’s eyes looked up into his face while she broke out in laughter as he spun her away from him and then tugged her back close again.

  The song ended and he watched as the newly wedded couple began to exit the dance floor. Elaina walked in front, and Raul walked behind her with his hands on her shoulders in a territorial stance that not a single man in the building could fail to recognize. Yeah, there was no question, his neighbor had definitely staked his claim on that girl. Wedded, bedded, the ring and the whole nine yards.

  John watched in absolute amazement as a drunken cowboy made the mistake of looking at Elaina and was no doubt so mesmerized by her face that he didn’t see the man behind her. The inebriated man stopped directly in her path and made a slow, drunken move to put his hand on her arm. John almost choked on his beer because the look on Raul’s face was so amusing. It probably wasn’t funny to Raul, but for John, watching from the sidelines, the moment held a different quality. Like a lightning strike, Raul’s hand snapped out and grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it behind his back.

  John was too far away to hear what was said, but Raul was in the guy’s face in a split second. John was just about to make his move to try to keep his neighbor from being thrown out of the bar, when Elaina reached out a gentle hand to her husband and with a shake of her head, she turned and walked away, probably anticipating full well that Raul would have no choice but to follow her. And follow her, he did.

  It never failed; every six weeks or so, Elaina would talk Raul into taking her dancing, and every time it was a pure miracle that Raul didn’t get thrown out for fighting. John watched as his neighbors left the dance floor and blended into the crowd.

  He took a sip of his beer as his gaze continued to move around the bar as he cataloged one woman after the next. Cataloged and dismissed them, one at a time. Usually he wasn’t quite so picky, just wanting a quick lay. But tonight, for reasons he didn’t care to analyze, not one single woman looked to be fuck-worthy.

  As a whole slew of women and a few brave men congregated to begin a line dance, he nursed his beer and tried to find someone who would get his unusually quiet libido to come to attention.

  But it wasn’t happening.

  As the women began moving in a dance of blended bodies that seemed almost rehearsed, his eyes ran over them. There were tall women, short women, big tits, little tits, and everything in between. He couldn’t get his brain to focus on any one woman, but he watched in amazement as he always did as they moved in such synchronized actions that it looked to be almost choreographed.

  The dance floor was crowded because the song was popular, and he saw only bits and pieces of different women before they turned in unison and began gliding in the opposite direction. The faces that were in the middle of the group, he couldn’t see at all.

  He had already dismissed every woman on the outside parameter of the dance floor and was trying his best to scrutinize the hoard of women in the middle when he focused on one girl in particular. He almost grimaced because she sucked so badly at what she was doing.

  He watched her awkward movements among a sea of women who had done this many times before, and he was momentarily floored that he felt a touch of sympathy for her.

  He wasn’t a sympathetic man in general and, in fact, many of the finer emotions were lost on him completely.

  But his eyes kept landing on her again and again in pained compassion. He finally gave up trying to look away from her all together and studied her exclusively. As he continued to watch her, he slowly began to notice other things about her other than her uncoordinated dance moves.

  What he could see of her body was amazing.

  He still couldn’t see her face, but suddenly, he was struck by how awesome her legs were. She wore a pair of cream-colored shorts with an edging of lace around the hem that accentuated her thighs in a way that had his guts tightening in reaction. In comparison to many of the other women, her shorts were modest, covering a few more inches of her thighs than that of the woman around her who mostly wore tiny skirts or the shortest shorts imaginable. But most of the other women wore boots, and she didn’t, so the overall effect was much more visible leg.

  And John admitted to himself that he had always been a leg man.

  Those killer legs were further accentuated by high-heeled sandals in a light tan color. They were the kind of sandals a lot of women were wearing these days, the kind on a platform that gave them an added inch or two, and they were no doubt one of the reasons she couldn’t dance as well as the women who wore boots.

  The shoes might not be good for dancing, but what they did to her legs was utterly stupendous. Her calves were so cut that her muscle tone and definition was impossible not to see, her knees were actually sexy and her thighs were smooth and silky.

  As he focused on those awesome legs, arousal slammed through his body and his brain went on full alert as incendiary heat slithered down his spine.

  That was the one. That was the woman.

  If her face possessed only a tenth of the beauty he could see so far, he’d have those legs wrapped around him within a few hours. Already he knew a blowjob would have to come later. Much later. All he could think about was ramming his cock between her spread legs and pounding her between those silky thighs.

  Yeah, he would need that several times before his guts could decompress enough to allow him to lie still and let her take him into her mouth.

  He swelled in his jeans even more at the arousing thought.

  As the dance ended, he didn’t let her out of his sight, and when the crowd of people began to disperse he saw another woman with a laughing smile walk up to her and grab her around the waist as they exited the dance floor together.

  They turned in unison, walked toward the bar and the general direction he was standing, and he got a good look at her face for the first time.

  A short, sharp feeling of surprise hit him, quickly followed by such an incredible anger, he gritted his teeth so hard he felt pain radiate through his jaw. He turned and slammed his beer bottle on the counter behind him.

  Frustration and rage jerked through his bloodstream. He couldn’t believe she was sexually thwarting him for a second time.

  His eyes stayed focused on her as a blinding wave of resentment and ill temper burned through him. As she and her friend walked to the bar to order drinks some twenty feet away from him, her eyes skittered to his and quickly looked away again in shock, panic or pure rejection. He didn’t know which emotion he saw in her eyes and he didn’t much care.

  Irritation at the restraint it was costing him not to get what he wanted that instant, made him seethe. He wanted to take it out on her,
and badly.

  At that moment, from his peripheral vision, he watched as a redheaded woman he’d slept with before and who was always after him, slinked up to his side. He wasted no time, and in a fit of pique, reached out and snagged her by the arm and brought her into his body. What he was trying to prove, he had no fucking idea. He didn’t try to analyze it. As their chests clashed, the woman looked into his eyes, but he looked past her into the eyes of the woman who had been fucking with his brain for the last five days and who was now blatantly watching him with open contempt.

  With the last vision in his head that of Sarah McAlister looking away from him in disgust, he lowered his head and plastered a kiss on the lips of the redheaded woman, whose name eluded him for the time being.

  She tasted of stale bourbon and reeked of strong perfume, and as he kissed her he felt his erection dwindle and die. The angry knowledge that the redhead had once been able to get his motor running caused a strong grievance at Sarah, and he notched up another reason to be pissed at her.

  He pushed away from the redhead, told the bartender to put her tab on his bill, and he turned and walked away from her without a word, only wanting to get the hell away from this place.

  He made his way to the men’s room, paced the floor a couple of times, stopped and pissed in a urinal and as he was washing his hands the irritating idea of leaving and going home alone was replaced with the sudden urge to confront her.

  Why the fuck was she out on the town if she had a fiancé? Did she not realize she was in the biggest fucking meatmarket in this part of the state? Had she lied to him to get away from him more quickly? Because it had damn sure worked. After she told him she was engaged, he’d turned away, gotten in his truck, and driven off without a word.

  He didn’t fuck with other men’s women.

  But goddamnit, engaged wasn’t married. It wasn’t adultery. Not that he was religious; he wasn’t a religious man. But he did have a moral code. And that was all a moot point because she’d probably lied anyway.

  When in hell had a woman ever lied to escape from him? When had a woman ever wanted to escape from him at all?

  Anger simmering to boiling point, he walked out of the men’s room, and found Steven, the owner of the honky tonk, and abruptly called in a favor.

  Steven sat in a darkened booth with a woman under his arm. John didn’t waste time mincing words. “I need to borrow your office for a few minutes.”

  Steven gave him a level look and turned to the woman under his arm. “Give us a few minutes, babe.”

  The woman looked wounded, but she quickly vacated the booth and Steven turned his attention back to John. “You planning on getting some ass in my office?”

  John narrowed his eyes at the other man’s tone. “Need some privacy for a few minutes. But with the amount of money you owe me, I wouldn’t think you’d mind if I had a goddamn orgy in there.”

  Steven’s expression went from blank until he very slowly smiled. “Point taken.” He reached down and dug in his pocket and threw a set of keys in John’s direction.

  John reached out, grabbed the keys in mid-air, and pocketed them. He turned and left the booth and began looking around for his prey.

  His timing couldn’t have been better.

  He saw her tottering on those heels as she left her friend who was chatting up a guy at the bar and made her way to the ladies room. Steven’s office was in the same darkened corridor, so John waited until Sarah went into the restroom and then he followed in her steps, stopped at the office, and unlocked the door.

  ****

  Sarah’s mind was in turmoil as she took a much needed respite in the women’s room. She couldn’t call it a lounge because the room was little more than three stalls and three sinks crowded into a small rectangular space.

  But it was impeccably clean and she rested against the sink on hands that shook.

  What were the odds?

  What were the odds that she would see the same guy from the gas station and that he’d induce the same kind of feelings in her as before?

  She admitted that what she felt was excitement burning through her system. Unwanted excitement laced with quivering fear. A conversation from earlier in the day came to memory. The kind of man who could cream her twinkie, and with just one look, have her salivating for him.

  As she admitted to herself that he was the kind of man who had the ability to do exactly that, she also admitted the other emotion that was running through her bloodstream.

  Fear. She recognized the fear she felt. The fear that said he would be the kind of man who would win. The kind of man she’d be powerless to resist and who would hurt her in the end.

  Damn.

  She hung her head. All she wanted at this moment was to stay away from him.

  Yes, for sure, she tried to convince herself. She should stay away from him. Her very careful, very sane self knew that she should stay away from him. She liked what she had with Randall. He was safe. The distant memory of her ex-husband cheating on her when she was pregnant with their child, and the absolutely gutted way she had felt from his defection blasted through her brain. She hadn’t been able to eat or sleep and whether or not that had anything to do with the miscarriage, she didn’t know. But she had loved that baby, more than life itself. Truthfully, she’d gotten over Greg long before she’d gotten over losing her baby. Maybe she wasn’t over it yet.

  And now here she was, hiding in a restroom, trying to stay away from a man who made her feel even stronger things than even her ex-husband had induced when she had first met him.

  This man John radiated something she couldn’t explain, but she understood it was something elemental in her psyche that made her respond to him. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes swallowed her whole as if she already belonged to him. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that he hadn’t forgotten their meeting at the gas station.

  The memory of him reaching out and kissing that other woman in such a blatant, sexual manner was still causing a slight feeling of nausea within her.

  Jealousy.

  Oh God. She was jealous. The black and green emotion hit her square in the stomach when she finally understood what it was she had felt when he’d kissed the other woman.

  But she couldn’t be jealous. She wouldn’t let herself. She was engaged to Randall. ‘John’ meant nothing to her.

  The image of him taking that woman in his arms screamed through her. But there was no denying he’d looked Sarah in the eye when he’d pulled the other woman in his arms. Looked her straight in the eye and given her an intense stare filled with what had looked like recrimination. He’d also pushed the other woman away and turned and left, leaving the poor woman alone. It was a telling action on his part. He’d done it to punish Sarah for being engaged to another man. He had turned to another woman in an attempt to show her what he was feeling, to shove it in her face that she had all but turned him down and that he could have someone else. Easily. But then—he hadn’t carried through with it. He’d left the other woman standing alone and turned and walked away from them both. But still, Sarah knew that he and the woman had a past. He was bound to have a past with a million different women.

  But she’d be damned if she’d be one of them.

  Thank God he’d left.

  Now all she had to do was try to convince Jaime to do the same before the headache she felt niggling in the back of her skull developed into something all too real.

  With that exact thought in mind, she left the room and began walking down the darkened corridor toward the main area of the dancehall. She hadn’t taken more than ten steps when her wrist was enclosed by a strong, ruthless grip and she was hauled into a room that she hadn’t even realized was there, and the door was slammed shut, trapping her inside. The room was in shadows with only a soft, subtle glow from a small table lamp negating the otherwise darkened interior of the room.

  Her spine landed against the closed door, and a hard, masculine hand came up and covered her mouth
and cut off the scream that tried to leave her throat. Fear, vivid and real slammed through her and made her pulse take off so fast and hard she could barely concentrate enough to breathe through her nose. Her mind ran away from her as every nightmare she’d ever had hit her from all sides.

  The need for flight kicked in and as her eyes widened in fright, she began struggling against the man who held her.

  He controlled her easily, dominating her entirely, and gave her one shake before she felt his hot breath in her ear. “Sarah.”

  She recognized that voice easily and went completely still with the shock of discovery. It was especially stunning to her because she had thought he’d left the building. A huge feeling of relief that she wasn’t about to be brutally violated hit her. At least, she didn’t think she would be violated. It was immediately followed by butterflies in her stomach as she realized it was his steely muscles that surrounded her. His hand stayed over her mouth, but he lifted his head from the side of her hair where he had spoken her name, and now he looked into her face.

  His eyes glittered down into hers and she could see them smoldering with lethal fire. The sexual significance of the moment hit her deep inside, the aggressive action that dominated her completely had a stark, primal connotation that incapacitated her and rendered her helpless.

  “You’re safe. I only want to talk to you.” His voice was firm, his jaw clamped, and she swallowed deeply and managed a small nod of her head.

  Her heart was banging loudly in her chest, she breathed roughly through her nose, and excitement that she couldn’t deny laced with fear and panic skittered down her spine.

  He continued to hold his hand over her mouth, taking his time to release her as he pressed his torso into hers and tightened the hand that still held her wrist. Her eyes flared and she knew he must see the apprehension and question in them.

  “I’m going to take my hand away now. Don’t scream.” His words were rough, resonating deeply in the small room.

  She swallowed and remained still.