A memory trickled in. There’d been water… and a horse…
She raised her arms above her head to stretch, then she lay there in the heat and tried to get her bearings, opening her eyes slowly. She frowned. Okay… she was currently in a cabin – the walls, ceiling, and floor were all made of wood. It was bright and open, but the room was stuffy and hot. The ceiling fan was blowing warm air around, making Samira feel as if she was in a clothes drier. The window was open wide, but the blind was pulled down, shielding her from the intense sun outside.
Her senses drifted back to reality, and she wondered whose bed she was lying on. It wasn’t her room at the ranch – which she still didn’t think of as her room, even though she’d been here six months. She’d never really put down roots in America and she probably never would now she was an illegal alien. But thank goodness Mr. Langdon was allowing her hide here, and all she had to do was–
Shit! Worry coursed through her body and she sat up on the rickety bed. What time was it? She needed to be at the border by two… she couldn’t miss that appointment – her life here depended on it.
Okay… what was she doing in this cabin? A memory drifted back. She’d fallen into the creek – or someone had set her up to fall – it seemed as if the earth around the bank had been purposely loosened; it’d come away too easy… Was someone trying to kill her? She rubbed her brow – of course not.
So… she’d been drowning and someone had pulled her out… a man. She shivered as she remembered she’d seen Ivan. Kissed his gorgeous lips. But she must’ve been dreaming. Or perhaps the act of drowning had played tricks on her mind. She dreamed about him often – very vividly – so why should today be different?
She glanced at the wooden chair by the window and saw that her dress had been slung over it to dry, then she gazed down at the damp satin slip still covering her body. Whoever had rescued her had taken the liberty of removing her wet clothes – but not her underwear. It must’ve been that man who’d been following her – he’d obviously saved her and brought her back to where he lived. She steeled herself. At least now she might be able to get some information from him – and a good look at his face. She clambered off the bed and padded to the open bedroom door.
The bedroom led directly out to the stuffy living room, which contained sparse furniture, and Samira could see there was a little stone kitchen off to the side. The cabin was rustic, cramped, and dusty, and the logs seemed casually fastened together, which probably made it freezing in the winter. But today this cramped space retained the heat like the furnaces of hell. There was a clock on the wall opposite, informing her it was only eleven-thirty. Good. She still had plenty of time before she needed to be at the rendezvous point.
The man who’d rescued her was sitting in a wooden chair with his back to her, composing a message on his phone. She saw him tense up as she stepped on a creaky floorboard behind him, then he grabbed his cowboy hat and pulled it down over his face. Whoever he was, he really didn’t want her to see him. Suspicion mingled with fear, but she pushed it away. She glanced around for a weapon, just in case she might need to defend herself. An iron candlestick caught her eye – it would be perfect for rendering this guy unconscious if needs be.
“What am I doing here?” she asked. “Who are you?”
He turned and stood up, being careful not to show his face – half of which was covered by his beard anyway. He was shirtless and the sight of his toned torso – combined with this heat – sent desperate arousal between her thighs. He was so muscular, with strong shoulders and bulging biceps – a lifetime of working with his hands had clearly helped to sculpt him into the epitome of masculine perfection.
Samira looked up from his gorgeous body and realized that he was blatantly staring at her curvy waist and ample cleavage, covered by her satin slip. She felt self-conscious – knowing she didn’t look her best after being dragged out of the creek – but he’d already undressed her, so why be modest in this stifling heat?
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “You want some coffee? Or maybe a cold drink?”
She stared at him. “Why won’t you let me see your face?”
He paused for a beat. “You should sit by the window. There’s a breeze.”
Samira glanced at the open window in its rickety frame. She had an overpowering need to know who this guy was and why he’d been tailing her, but she was feeling hot and dazed. She forced herself to relax and stepped over to the chair, appreciating the cooler air on her skin. She could feel his silent eyes all over her as the ceiling fan clicked above them. She tried to focus on the golden fields outside, but the sparks of sexual arousal that vibrated between them made her look back at him.
“Just some cold water, please.”
“Sure,” he said in his husky voice. He chuckled under his breath. “You haven’t had enough water for one day, huh?”
She laughed shyly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
They shared a smile, then he strode off toward the kitchen. Samira glanced at his toned butt and long legs as he left, then she turned and gazed out the window at the beautiful scenery. She listened as the squeaky kitchen faucet chugged water into a glass.
“The clouds are gathering overhead,” she called out. “Perhaps the rain they forecast will come early.”
He strolled back into the room. “Let’s hope so. We sure could do with some rain to clear this heat. Here.”
“Thank you.”
He sat down at the table and drummed his fingers on the wood. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” She held the cool glass against her warm neck. “I guess I should thank you for saving my life.”
“Oh… anyone would’ve. Especially after you helped me with my horse.”
His lips curled into a cute smile. Samira wished she could see his eyes. He seemed attentive; familiar. But she couldn’t place that voice – it was husky and deeper than seemed natural. His hat and his thick dark beard obscured his features. The mystery of him excited her.
“So why have you been following me around for three weeks? Did Mr. Langdon put you up to it? Spying on me, is he?”
“Three weeks? Not me, ma’am. I only arrived yesterday.”
She frowned. “Really? Well, someone who looks like you has been following me.”
“It wasn’t me, Samira, I swear.”
She jolted with shock and almost spat out her water. “Alright, who the hell are you? No one here knows me by that name apart from Mr. Langdon.”
The man studied her from under his hat for a moment, then he inhaled to speak. “I don’t want to freak you out, but I… there’s no easy way to say this…”
She watched – captivated – as he reached up and to remove his hat, then – as her eyes fell on his face – reality warped like a crumpled tin can. Her jaw dropped, but no words came out. Her heart thrashed desperately in her chest, pinning her to the chair with terror and delight.
Ivan gazed into her eyes, saying nothing. His face was more rugged than before and he looked tired; his beard was scruffy and unkempt, but there was no doubt about it…
“Ivan?” she whispered. “It can’t be… you’re dead.”
His serious expression morphed into a grin, but he quickly suppressed his simmering elation, knowing she needed an explanation. “I’m so sorry, Samira. I faked my death to protect you and my family. Just like Tariq did. Didn’t you suspect?”
Samira’s skin tingled with confusion. Ivan was alive. She yearned to embrace him, but she feared he’d disappear – just as he had done so many times in her dreams, come morning.
He gazed at her. “Say something, baby.”
“I… I can’t believe this. Ivan… you’re...”
“I’ve been searching all over Texas for you, sweetheart. Jesus, it’s so good to see you – I’ve missed you like a hole in my heart.”
As if in a daze, Samira stood on trembling legs, feeling lightheaded. Ivan stepped in front of her and ran his fingers down her chee
k, causing her body to fizz all over. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught in her throat, flooding her mind with elation and affection, as well as sensuous lust.
“Still so beautiful,” he said, wrapping her in his loving gaze. “What are you doing here? On this ranch?”
“The funding was cut for my course – I was told to leave the country. But I couldn’t do that. So I ended up here.”
“Thank goodness you found somewhere to stay and wait for me.”
“Wait for you… Ivan, I thought you were… gone forever.”
“I would’ve found you wherever you were in the world. It’s so good to see you.”
“Oh god…”
She was desperate to kiss him, to touch him, to make love to him. She closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her, but – behind her eyes – she was assaulted with a flash of the wrenching agony he’d put her through.
Bastard!
A wave of fury zoomed into her heart. Faked his death? Her eyes flicked open and she glared at his kind, loving face. “You asshole!”
“What?”
“You could’ve told me the truth – would it have been so hard? Just to tell me? We could’ve… we could’ve… Or perhaps you don’t trust me?”
“Samira, of course I–”
“But no, instead you thought it would be much easier to put me through the agony and devastation of thinking I’d lost you forever! And now you think you can just waltz back into my life? I don’t think so…”
Ivan opened his mouth to defend himself, but Samira’s emotions cracked. She pushed away his hand, pulled back her fist, and punched him hard in the face with all the force of her bubbling anger.
Ivan stumbled in shock. “Samira, what the fuck…?”
“You asshole! You’ve been alive all this time. How could you do this to me?”
He held out his hands. “Look, I know it was–”
“You have no idea what the hell you’ve put me through! And you think you can just come back and sweep me off my feet? Planning to throw me over your shoulder and ride off with me, are you?”
He tried to grab her shoulders. “Samira, I just –”
“Don’t you touch me, Ivan Quinlan! Don’t you dare talk to me.”
Propelled by fury and passion, she stormed back to the bedroom to grab her clothes.
He followed. “Look, Samira, I can understand why you’re –”
“Can you?” She struggled into her damp dress. “You think you understand what’s been going on since you fell off the planet, do you? Well, let me tell you, Ivan Quinlan, you don’t have a fucking clue.”
She shoved past him and strode to the front door. Then she spun to face him. He looked baffled; hurt.
“I need you to leave this ranch,” she said.
“What?”
“Right now. This minute. Leave. I never want to see you again.”
Ivan stared at her as if he was trying to placate a mental patient. There was no sign of aggression or desire for retaliation in his face – just love for her. She could see how much he’d missed her; that he’d yearned for her and had suffered just as she had.
She stood by the door and closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, desperate not to cry. A wave of emotion swept over her, drenching her heart with tender joy as well as with devastated regret. Her throat crackled as stinging tears pricked her eyes, and she hugged herself around her shoulders, determined to keep him away from her. But – as the first few tears escaped down her cheeks – she felt his arms wrap around her and pull her close. His toned flesh was warm on her now-wet cheeks, and his muscly arms were even stronger than she remembered. As much as she wanted to resist him, she couldn’t stop the emotion from bursting out, so she allowed herself to sob heartily as she sunk down into his secure solid chest.
He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her on the head. “I’m so sorry, baby… I’m sorry I put you through all that pain.”
She whimpered and composed herself, then she gazed into those gorgeous brown eyes – they were kind eyes, like a horse’s eyes. And they were full of so much love for her. But this couldn’t happen. He couldn’t stay here. There was too much at stake now.
She opened her mouth to tell him to go, but she ended up clinging even closer. He lowered his face and cupped her chin, raising her head and kissing her tenderly on the lips. She didn’t resist – she couldn’t. A rush of lust swept over her and the kiss grew in passion – his tongue slipped into her mouth and their lips desperately pressed against each other. God, she’d missed him so much! He ran his hand down her back and squeezed her ass in his strong palm, pulling her pelvis against his straining cock.
“I need you,” he said. “I love you.”
Samira gasped as she kissed his neck and collarbone, allowing him to push down the straps of her dress, revealing her breasts and rock-hard nipples that yearned to be licked and sucked by his commanding lips.
She let her head drop back as she almost allowed herself to sink back into Ivan Quinlan. But – in her mind – she suddenly saw a flash of her new love and quickly pulled away. She held out her hands to fend him off. “I can’t do this, Ivan. I’m sorry.”
“No, Samira,” he whispered. “You’re mine. We belong together.”
She shook her head. “No. Please leave here.”
“I know you still love me.”
She stared fiercely into his eyes. “I don’t.”
It was a lie and he saw right through it. He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe you. Look, whatever it is, I can help you to–”
“You can’t, Ivan. I want you to go. Just leave and forget you saw me. My life has changed too much, and there’s no longer any room in my heart for you.”
She turned and pulled open the door with shaking fingers, determined to leave before she surrendered to his charms.
He watched her from the doorway. “I’m not leaving this ranch without you.”
Samira strode off on quivering legs, knowing he meant it. But she wasn’t playing hard to get. The sooner she got Ivan Quinlan out of her life, the better it would be for them both – and for everyone else involved.
Chapter Four
Later that afternoon, Ivan stood in the scorching sun near the front of the ranch, bent over the engine of a gleaming blue truck.
Feeling hot, he stripped off his shirt and threw it in the truck, glad that his cowboy hat was shading his eyes. If Samira came out of the huge ranch-house now, she’d get a glimpse of his bare sculpted torso and muscular arms. He willed her to at least look out the window, knowing how much she enjoyed his body.
Life tingled with hope now since he’d found her. It felt so good to enjoy the glorious weather and the beautiful surroundings – things that had been lost on him during the time he’d been obsessed with his search for her. But now here she was, lighting up his life. It was like returning home… she was the missing piece of the puzzle that made him feel alive with love.
Samira brought out the best in him, even when they weren’t physically together. But just soaking up her vibes made his life sparkle with a purpose. She’d wrenched him out of his doldrums and reminded of him how great life was. Love did that.
He stood up straight and wiped his brow, still trying to process everything that had happened. He’d found her, at last… He’d kissed her… she’d slugged him a punch so hard he’d almost fallen over with shock. But he wasn’t giving up on her just like that – not after the way she’d kissed him. He was confident she still loved him. And he still loved her. He needed her…
But he understood why she was resisting. During the last year – when they’d been apart – he’d wondered so many times how she was doing – how she was feeling. It tore his heart to think of her feeling sad over him – thoughts of her feeling bad were more painful than his own heartache. He knew she loved him – she’d fallen as hard as he had – and she would’ve felt the agony of his ‘death’ and their forced separation just as hard as him.
But it made se
nse that she’d tried to carry on without him. She’d thought he was never coming back. So of course she’d want to try to put their love affair behind her and try to get on with her life.
But he sensed there was something else preventing her from getting back with him now… something she wasn’t telling him. He understood why she was hiding out here, since her college funding had been cut and she’d been told to leave the country – but surely she knew he’d take care of her now… marry her, do anything he could to keep her in America. In fact, his sister Clara had a friend in the department of immigration – so maybe he could help. Clara was in Texas at the moment and Ivan was due to meet her later, so he could talk to her then.
But for now, regardless of how desperate Ivan was to stride into the huge ranch-house and throw Samira over his shoulder, he knew he should at least pretend he was working. The ranch manager had asked him to service the pickup trucks today, which was perfect, because it was easy work – allowing him to figure out his next steps to win back Samira.
With the engine of the truck running, he twisted the wrench in his oily hand, and gazed at the house which was about twenty yards away. Envy bubbled inside him. He’d yet to meet the owner – Mr. Langdon – because the man obviously didn’t do his own hiring and firing. But somehow he’d won Samira over with promises of… a better life than Ivan could give her? No way. No one loved Samira as much as he did; no one would treat her as good as he would.
And if it was money she needed… Well, it was clear this guy could offer her that. The house was a typical ranch mansion, set in its own landscaped gardens, surrounded, of course, by the sprawling fields of corn and cattle. The house itself was white with external pillars and a huge front door – a fortress of luxury compared to the servants’ cabins. The windows were large, letting in the light, and Ivan imagined it was probably bright and airy inside with the best furnishings and air-conditioning. It was certainly a home worthy of Samira. But Ivan’s bank account was practically infinite – and he would gladly spend every last cent on Samira if it would make her happy. If she wanted a big house like this, he’d give her one.
The Billionaire's Heir: Billionaire Obsession (Tycoon Billionaires Book 4) Page 2