by Lynda Chance
As she studied the piece of wood, she realized with awe that although one of the bubbles was busted, the other was intact, and in fact still retained the measuring fluid inside.
She stepped away from the bookshelf and turned the old level over lovingly in her hands.
“Put that down.”
Sarah’s back mostly faced the door and that hard voice sent rivers of alarm zinging through her. Her knees started wobbling and with a ferocious wave of disbelief, she turned in a jerky motion to face the man standing in the doorway.
Her hands began shaking and the level fell from her fingers and crashed to the tiled floor with a loud, cacophonous noise.
She saw his eyes drop to the busted vial at her feet. “Goddamnit,” he snarled. His eyes left the ground and travelled up her body and latched onto her face in sudden recognition. “Goddamnit,” he blasted again.
They stared at each other from across the room while Sarah’s heartbeat pounded a relentless pulse to run but she couldn’t because her feet were glued to the floor. She stared in shell-shocked horror as full-blown understanding hit her full in the face.
He caught his snap before she did, and turned and shut and locked the office door. As he executed that threatening maneuver, he put a cigarette between his lips and held it there. She watched as her brain began to slowly function again. “You smoke?” she asked with a voice filled with disapproval and an aversion that she couldn’t contain quickly enough.
Sarah had no idea why was she was shocked he smoked. Because she hated smoking so much and that was possibly her one rule in life that she never broke? She never dated men who smoked. Never.
Why wasn’t she more shocked that Phillip Johnson Garrett was John? Her John. Her John? Where in the hell had that come from?
“You busted my level,” he snarled.
Sarah blinked her eyes away from him and studied the mess at her feet. Appalled that she had been so clumsy, an arrow of sadness for the old piece pierced her as she inhaled deeply and looked back at him. “You smoke?” she repeated in a daze.
“What’s so damn hard to believe about that?” He moved into the room and picked up the old wood and the remnants of the vial. He placed both on the bookshelf and moved to lean against his desk.
Sarah turned in an arc to face him. “I don’t know. Why do you smoke?”
“Are you kidding me, lady? You think you have some kind of right to ask me personal questions?”
Sarah was still too off-balance to follow the conversation with any kind of logic. Too many things were bombarding her brain at once. He smoked; she hated that and it was sending disappointment straight through to her stomach. And she’d broken something that he cared about. And his name was Phillip Garrett and there was no way he would give her any money. She finally recognized that with a pained arrow of regret. The retirement home wouldn’t be built. The school would close.
And he smoked.
As she watched him take a deep inhalation of the cigarette and blow the smoke back out, she met his stare and tried to get her shit together. She licked her lips to try to bring moisture to her dry mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“For not minding your own business or for being clumsy?”
Sarah bit her lip and looked away. She suddenly wanted to cry. Not big huge gulping tears, just the kind that blurred your vision and made you feel generally miserable. But she knew she couldn’t. She had too much pride for that.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I broke your level. It was truly beautiful and now it’s—not the same.”
He nodded his head just once in acknowledgement of her apology and held up the cigarette vertically in front of his face as if in question.
“What?” she asked quietly.
John saw the tears swimming in her eyes and didn’t care for them at all. They made him feel like he was to blame, like he’d done something wrong. Had he? They’d started out, or not started out, disastrously.
First the gas station, then the dancehall, and now this. She wanted his money. Wasn’t that where he’d first wanted her? Wanting his money? He hadn’t much cared that first day, but now, he had to admit, it irritated him.
He felt like a small boy and it pissed him off. He wanted her to like him.
Shit.
Still, the realization didn’t stop him from saying what he was feeling now. “You want me to put it out?”
The look on his face was unfathomable to Sarah and she slowly shook her head. “No, you’re right. It’s none of my business and it’s your house and your health.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he took another puff, exhaled and reached behind him to the ashtray on the desk and put the cigarette out.
When he turned back to face her with a grim expression, Sarah saw his shoulders straining against the fabric of his t-shirt. The material looked as if it had been white at one time, but now there was a film of dirt covering most of it, and a streak of what appeared to be grease down the left side. The sleeves were completely cut out, and his biceps bulged in a display of masculine strength that had Sarah’s heart slamming against her breastbone.
Whatever he’d been doing when she’d gotten here was physical as opposed to mental, which wasn’t how she’d imagined a multi-millionaire spent his time.
She let her eyes fall from his torso and took in his jeans and work boots. They too, were disreputable, and reminded her of what he’d been wearing the first time she’d met him. This then, was a man who dressed solely for his own comfort, and was in a position where he didn’t have to give a damn about his appearance.
Well, none of that mattered anymore, because she’d done nothing but rebuff his advances and insult him since she’d met him. There was no way he’d give her the help, time, or money that she needed from him. She decided she wouldn’t even waste her breath asking. And almost immediately she questioned that decision. Everyone she had spoken to had told her that he was always more than willing to give. Maybe he had a strong streak of altruism that wouldn’t be affected by the conflict between them. Truly, she didn’t know what to do. Suddenly, the thought of asking this man for money seemed dangerous. Recklessly dangerous.
But she had to say something and searched aimlessly for an innocuous topic. “So you’re Phillip Johnson Garrett.” She tried to maintain an even tone of conversation with only a slight question in her voice.
He nodded once. “John.”
“John.” She tried the name out on her lips.
He boldly ran his eyes up and down her length, as if he had every right to do so. “And you’re Sarah McAlister.”
“Yes. It’s a small world,” the inane cliché slipped from her mouth before she could stop it.
“Especially in this part of the country,” he agreed, watching her steadily.
John leaned back against his desk and waited for her to make her move. Waited for her to ask him for the money. For what, he didn’t know. There was no telling what the Top Hill school needed. Or how badly she wanted the school to have it. There was no telling, yet.
But for the first time in his life, he was feeling a huge sense of satisfaction that somebody wanted his money. That she wanted his money. Would he rather have her without money standing between them? Hell, yeah. But she was more than reticent, and without some kind of incentive, he wouldn’t get a chance at her.
So he should just be damn thankful he had something she needed.
“I’m sorry I dropped your level.” Her voice licked his insides as she apologized once again.
“Don’t worry about it.” He’d have come unglued on anyone else who had touched his things with such indiscriminate care.
She visibly swallowed and glanced around his office. He could tell she was nervous, and she wasn’t making any move to get the conversation going in the direction that she had come here for. He decided to help her out a bit. “You work for the school in Top Hill?”
“No.” She didn’t elaborate.
“You work in school administration?” he questioned
her further.
“No. I’m an educator, but I live and work in Dallas.”
John felt a moment of confusion. He swore the first time he met her, she said she was from Top Hill. And the mention of Dallas was beginning to make his temples throb. He glanced down at her left hand and immediately saw a glistening solitaire on her ring finger.
A wave of anger and animosity hit him. “You told me you’re from Top Hill,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I—I am. Sort of. My grandparents left me a small farm and I’ve spent every summer here. My parents lived in Dallas and I was raised there. I work in Dallas. I’m a tenth-grade math teacher.”
“You’re only here for the summer?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your connection with Top Hill school district?”
“None, really.”
“That doesn’t make sense, lady.”
“I’m from Dallas but my heart is in Top Hill. As an educator, my concern is for the children. I don’t want to see the school closed from lack of enrollment. The children would have to be bussed almost an hour away, probably to Duluth. It would take two hours out of their day. Two hours a day of their precious childhood would be wasted on a bus. I’ve seen it happen before, and nothing good can come of it.”
“And you’ve decided to make this your personal crusade?” He raised one eyebrow and waited.
“I don’t want to see the town die, either. If the school closes, those jobs will leave as well. I’ve spoken to a lot of people, and they do care, but most are too busy working and trying to raise a family to take on the challenge. I have a three-month window with summer here now. Yes, I’m making it my personal crusade.”
“You have a plan? How much is this going to cost me?”
She hesitated momentarily. “I’ve done a lot of research. The town needs another form of employment. Something that would draw people to work, and therefore children to the schools.” John watched her as she bit her lip and drew a deep breath before continuing, “Top Hill needs to build a retirement home.”
John felt the impact of that statement like a fist to his stomach. His immediate response was denial, and he blasted it out with one puff of oxygen. “No.”
She wrung her hands. “Please—can we just discuss it?”
John watched those silky white hands clenching together. They were bare of adornment, other than the obscene ring that now graced her left hand. When the fuck had she gotten it? Had she seen the mother-fucker again? He focused on her left hand. It wasn’t an ostentatious ring, it was small and dainty. No, the ring itself wasn’t obscene; it was what it represented. Her, belonging to another man.
John did a quick calculation through a haze of jealousy. What she was talking about would take millions, not the few thousand he had expected she’d ask for. But within the space of a few seconds, he could see the truth in what she was suggesting. She was talking about a nursing home. A long-term care facility would bring employment to the town. It was a good plan. And one that had been tried before but hadn’t had the funds to make it work. But why the hell should he have to pay for it?
Truthfully, he had no interest in Top Hill school district or any other school district for that matter. Education wasn’t something he spent a lot of time thinking about. He wasn’t a damn hero, and matters such as these were better left to people with political ambition. People with political ambition, or do-gooders who wanted to save the world.
He wasn’t politically motivated and he damn sure wasn’t a do-gooder. This was the exact kind of reason he needed a foundation. The millions she was talking about were considerable, but not unthinkable. He could afford it if he wanted too, he just didn’t want to. But a project of this size might keep everyone else out of his hair for a while, and that could be a bonus.
But the main reason he found himself considering it was because of her. He had plans for her. Plans that involved the end of her engagement and her naked skin against his. And ultimately, Sarah, under his power. When had his intentions toward her changed exactly? Every time he saw her, the urge to have her became more powerful, much more intense. He seriously doubted it would go away after he’d slept with her. Just looking at her now was causing an obsessive need within his gut to touch her, to keep her close. He didn’t like it, but damned if he was going to fight it.
First he needed time to debate his course of action. For that, he needed a few hours. But very obviously, he needed to corral her first with plans for another meeting between them. “I’ll pick you up tonight and we’ll go for supper and discuss it.”
Sarah felt lightheaded. Why the change of mind? First he’d said ‘no’, and now he was willing to discuss it? She wasn’t completely stupid. His initial reaction had been denial. Was this just a trap? It was definitely some form of torture. “Can’t we discuss it now?”
“I don’t have time, I’ve got work to do. Tonight.”
“But—”
“I’ll pick you up at five. Dress for comfort. We’ll drive to San Antonio. There’s no place decent to eat around here.”
Sarah didn’t know what to say. Oh hell, no, didn’t seem appropriate considering she was asking him for millions of dollars. “I don’t want to be any trouble. I can come back tomorrow, or when you have time.”
“I have time tonight.”
“Yes, but—”
“Sarah, you either want the goddamn money or you don’t. I really don’t care. Somebody else will come along within a week and want it for something else. So if you want me to listen to your spiel, it’s tonight. Supper.”
Sarah studied him suspiciously. She had a bad feeling about this. He was just so freakin’ hot. But surely she could keep him within arms length for one night. Just long enough to find out if he really meant it. Would he give Top Hill the money? Or was he going to get her in a dark vehicle, miles from her house, and then just tell her she was out of luck? He wouldn’t do that, would he?
She wouldn’t put anything past him. He seemed to be on his best behavior now, putting out his cigarette, telling her he’d consider her plans, but she’d seen and heard him in action. She swallowed as the memory of her hands being pinned to the wall hit her in the stomach and caused a mad rush of butterflies. You want to fuck me. The man now leaning negligently against his desk had actually said those words to her. And he wanted her to agree to get in his vehicle, drive close to a hundred miles alone with him and then spend another few hours in his company?
How had this happened? Not even an hour ago, she thought she’d be meeting with an older man, someone in his sixties or seventies, someone who cared even more about philanthropy than she did. Why? Why was this happening to her?
She must have waited too long to answer because he started moving toward the door and talking at the same time. Why did his every movement make her feel as if she was being stalked? “I’ve got work to do. Leave the directions to your place with Beth. GPS won’t cut it out here.”
As he brushed past her toward the door, Sarah was horrified to find her hand reaching out and touching his arm to try and detain him. His flesh felt steely under her fingers; his muscles were corded and she felt the heat of his body temperature.
He stopped and stiffened beside her. His eyes locked to hers, questioning. She opened her mouth and her words, although spoken softly, rang in her ears. “You promise?”
“Promise what?” His nostrils flared and the question was rumbled from deep within his chest.
“Do you promise you’ll truly listen to me? Do you promise that you’ll really consider it?” Now that she had his attention, she lifted her hand from his arm. But the second she did, he reached out and caught it in his and she had the idea he was trying to preserve the connection between them.
“Have I lied to you yet?” He stood erect and the space between them became negligible. He towered over her as his fingers entwined with hers, and his thumb stroked the back of her hand. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it.
As she looked
at the dark flecks in his eyes, her mind supplied her with all the harsh, outspoken things he’d said to her. None of them had been lies. “No, you haven’t. But this can’t be a date.” She lifted her chin. She was resolute on that point. “I want you to know that. This is about the school. I’m not going out with you for any other reason.”
“You seem pretty sure about that,” he said as he came another few inches toward her.
As he stepped closer, she had to lift her chin even higher to maintain eye contact. “I’m engaged.”
“For now.” His words sounded like a challenge to her. Or a threat.
She sucked in a breath at his cocksureness. “No. I’m engaged until I get married.”
John felt those words like a sucker-punch to the gut. His immediate reaction was to kiss her, strip her naked, and fuck her so hard and fast she wouldn’t be able to think straight. But he caught his mouth from sinking over hers just in time before he started something that would only have her running from him in the end. He couldn’t risk her running. He wanted more than just a quick lay. He wanted her body under his time and time again. He wanted the right to call her his, to have her body belong to him and him alone. Yeah, his motives had damn sure changed. The more she ran, the harder he chased. He knew one thing for damn straight. While she was his, he wouldn’t share her. The thought of her sleeping with someone else while she was sleeping with him was unacceptable.
The thought of her sleeping with the unknown fiancé or anybody else brought a streak of outrage so strong he felt almost violent from it. For sure, it was good that he had no way of knowing who the other man was or where exactly he lived. It needed to stay that way.
But no question about it, this girl was in trouble. A strong feeling of pure possessiveness ran through him. It was only a matter of time.
He wanted her to be his lover, and he had to remember that and stay focused on his goal. There was no doubt in his mind that he could seduce her out of her mind for a short period of time. But that’s not what he wanted.