by Ann Roth
He’d said he never wanted to get married, but Sarah guessed that someday he would. After all, most guys, even those who had women hanging all over them, eventually settled down with one woman. At least for a while. He wasn’t ready yet, that was all.
He touched the small of her back as they made their way toward the linen-clad table reserved for them, a possessive and intimate touch that filled her with warmth. Just for tonight, they belonged to each other.
Clay sat beside her at the table, with her grandparents across from them. The waiter brought menus and recited the specials before leaving them to make their decisions. They discussed the various cuts of meat, which Mr. Becker seemed an expert on. It turned out that he’d once been a butcher. A few minutes later, he gestured their server back.
After the waiter took their orders and left, Mr. Becker turned to Clay. “How was the drive over?”
“Easy, but traffic is always pretty light around here.”
“Believe it or not, it used to be even lighter. The area seems to be growing. I sure don’t know why.”
They discussed the subject for a few moments before the conversation stalled.
“I spoke with Pete Charles and shared the information you gave me yesterday about Tammy,” Sarah said in an effort to kill the awkward silence. “He promised to get back to me in a day or two. I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
A terse nod from Mr. Becker and nothing at all from his wife put an end to that topic. Apparently that subject was closed for the evening.
After a few more interminable seconds, Clay tried his hand at steering the conversation. “Your former house has a huge heated garage that I really appreciate.”
Mr. Becker’s eyes lit up. “I used to tinker with cars in there—a hobby of mine for years.”
“I figured it was something like that,” Clay said. “I keep my gym equipment there.”
Mrs. Becker smiled. “You look like you’re in good shape.”
Sarah wasn’t going to argue with that. He was in great shape.
“How did you two meet?” she asked.
“Sarah hasn’t told you?”
Sarah shook her head and waited for Clay to explain, but he nodded at her to tell the story. “A few years go, I did an article on bull riding, featuring Clay,” she summarized.
Expecting him to throw in a deprecating remark about that, she tensed. Instead, he surprised her by asking how she chose her topics.
“I try to balance what interests me with what I think the readers of the magazines I work for want to know,” she said.
Her grandparents nodded, but neither replied. Apparently they were as bad at small talk as they were at expressing their feelings.
Dreading the clumsy silences, Sarah struggled throughout the meal to come up with things to talk about. Used to making chitchat with virtual strangers due to his rodeo fame, Clay smoothly picked up the slack.
Even with his easy sociability, carrying the conversation during the long dinner that was more an ordeal than a social get-together, took real skill. Sarah was impressed and intrigued. There were so many things she didn’t know about Clay, qualities hidden beneath the surface. He never bragged about his talents, just quietly went about doing what was needed. She liked him all the more for that—far more than was wise.
Several times during the meal, he touched her in some way—gently bumping her with his arm or pressing his thigh to hers. Contact that only heightened her awareness of him.
From his hooded glances, she understood that he wasn’t immune to those touches, either. His smoldering looks added to her anticipation. Surely everyone in the room felt the heat simmering between them.
Of all places to get hot and bothered—there, in the Sunset Manor dining room, seated with her newly found grandparents. To Sarah’s relief they didn’t seem to notice.
Determined to get hold of herself, she scooted her chair away from Clay. After that, there was no more physical contact or direct eye contact with him—neither of which helped at all. Despite not so much as glancing at him, she was aware of his every move. Feelings continued to simmer inside her—desire and need, and something far more dangerous.
The logical part of her mind warned her to stay safe and keep her distance, but her heart and body refused to listen.
By the time the waiter finally cleared away the dessert plates, she felt as if she were burning up from the inside out and was more than ready to leave.
To her relief, her grandparents didn’t invite her and Clay up. They all headed for the lobby.
“Thanks for including me tonight,” Clay said as he and Sarah waited with the Beckers for their elevator.
“Anytime.” Mrs. Becker smiled and touched her hair. “Come back again.”
Sarah could tell by her expression that she’d fallen under his spell—just like everyone who met him.
Clay shook hands with her grandfather and nodded at her grandmother before turning to Sarah. “Ready to go?”
“I am.” Briefly she considered hugging her grandparents or kissing them goodbye, but she wasn’t comfortable about expressing that kind of affection with them. “Good night,” she said as they stepped into their elevator.
Clay cupped her elbow and steered her toward the exit. “That went well,” he murmured for her ears only. “And I didn’t even have to wear the tie.”
“Thanks to you. If you hadn’t kept the conversation going, who knows how we’d have survived.”
“You’d have come up with something. Can I ask you a question?” She nodded. “Why do you call them Mr. and Mrs. Becker?”
“Because they said to call them Bob and Judy or Mr. and Mrs. Becker, and the latter is more comfortable for me.”
“They don’t want to be called Grandma and Grandpa, or something along those lines?”
Sarah shook her head. “But I don’t mind, because right now, it wouldn’t feel right.”
* * *
BY THE TIME Clay exited Sunset Manor with Sarah, the sun was sinking toward the horizon and the air had cooled. Long shadows streaked the grounds, and brilliant bands of pink tinted the sky.
She glanced up, her face lit with pleasure. “What a gorgeous sunset.”
“Beautiful,” he agreed, but his eyes were on her. Finding it all but impossible to keep from touching her, he grasped her hand.
She was cold. He helped her into her shrug, a little thing that couldn’t possibly protect her from the chill.
He itched to pull her into a dim corner and warm her up, but the grounds of Sunset Manor were no place for what he had in mind.
“Here, put this on.” He took off his sport coat and slipped it around her shoulders.
The jacket all but swallowed her up. She looked cute. He liked seeing her in something of his.
“Your grandmother reminds me of my mom’s grandma—uptight and a little cold,” he said as he started the pickup.
“My grandfather isn’t much better. I’m used to that kind of behavior, though—Ellen was never very relaxed or affectionate. My dad was the opposite. After he died, the laughter and hugs were few and far between.”
Clay had always taken his family’s warmth for granted. He shook his head. “You said he died when you were ten.”
“That’s right. He was an engineer and an avid rock climber. He died in a freak accident on a mountain. My mother and I were out all afternoon. Back then, we didn’t have cell phones, and the medics couldn’t reach us. We found out when a reporter shared the story on the local news.”
Clay couldn’t even imagine. “That must’ve been a terrible shock.”
“It was pretty awful.” After a beat of silence, she said, “I missed him so much. I’m sure Ellen did, too, but she was stoic and insisted that I be strong, too. She didn’t like it when I cried.”
&nb
sp; The thought of warm, expressive Sarah being told not to cry made Clay’s chest ache. He didn’t think much of her mother.
She fiddled with the strap of her purse. “It would’ve helped if I’d had brothers or sisters or aunts or uncles or some other family to grieve with, but it was just Ellen and me. I know I’ve already said this, but you’re really lucky to have family.”
“Now you do, too,” he reminded her. “I saw the way your grandparents looked at you. They care. Maybe they’re cautious, waiting for you to show them affection first.”
“I wish it could just be natural.” She sighed. “I just hope Pete finds Tammy. I really want to meet her, and ask her for the name of my biological father. I wonder if he and Tammy stayed in touch over the years.”
“With any luck, you’ll soon find out.”
Sarah held up her crossed fingers. A blink later, her hopeful expression changed to something more bleak.
“You’re looking pretty somber,” Clay said.
“Tammy has stayed away from her parents since I was born, and as far as I know, she hasn’t come looking for me. Why would she want to see me now?”
“Because you’re her kid. Trust me, she’ll want to know you.” He reached for her hand again, and squeezed gently.
Sarah held on tight, as if soaking up his reassurance, before letting go.
They drove along in silence—a silence far different than any of the tense pauses during dinner. Sitting at the table beside Sarah tonight had kept Clay in a constant state of arousal. Hell, just thinking about her did that.
He was in trouble here, afraid he was getting in too deep. The smartest thing would be to drop her off at Mrs. Yancy’s, head for his garage and work his leg until he was too sore and tired to think about sex. Like that had ever worked.
“It’s early yet—too early to call it a night,” he said.
“I know, but there isn’t much to do around here in the evening.”
“Oh, I can think of a few things. Let’s go to my place. I’ll open a couple of beers and show you my house plans.”
He hadn’t intended to bring up the blueprints, but now that he had, he wanted her to see what his house would look like. Since she wouldn’t be here to see the finished product.
“Don’t you mean etchings?” Her mouth twitched.
“I’m fresh out of those.”
“Guess I’ll have to settle for the house plans, then.”
Hunger and promise darkened her eyes, and suddenly Clay wasn’t thinking about house plans.
Chapter Fourteen
Sarah entered Clay’s house with both longing and trepidation. Did she really want to do this?
In the kitchen, he popped open two beers and handed her one. “This is the only room in the house with an overhead light so it’s the best place to look at the blueprints,” he said, gesturing for her to sit at the table. “Hang tight while I grab them.”
He might be playing it cool now, all focused on house plans, but they both knew what was going to happen later.
As the seconds ticked by, Sarah tried once again to reason with herself. Now was the perfect time to say she’d changed her mind and wanted to go back to Mrs. Yancy’s.
The thing was, she wanted to stay. As long as she protected her heart, she’d be okay.
Clay returned to the room with the plans, and the heart she was supposed to keep safe sighed.
“You look awfully serious,” he said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing, really.” She managed a nod and a smile. “Let’s see those plans.”
Clay unrolled and spread the blueprints over the kitchen table. Standing behind her, he bent down and pointed out various details. He’d rolled up his shirt cuffs, and Sarah couldn’t help noticing the sun-bronzed hair on his thick forearms and the clean, blunt nails on his hands. Hands that knew how to give pleasure.
Her mouth went dry. Hyperaware of his every move, she breathed in his clean scent and felt the heat from his body.
Or was all that warmth coming out of her?
“—wanted a circular floor plan, with big rooms and high ceilings,” he was saying.
She forced herself to focus. “Very nice.”
Which probably wasn’t the “ooh, wow” his wonderful house deserved, but at the moment it was the best she could manage.
Leaning in close, he pointed to the second floor. “All the bedrooms will be up here,” he said, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “The master suite will look out over the property.”
She all but melted against him. He pointed out the fireplace, bath and adjoining office that made up his suite and then wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Heat pooled low in her belly. “It’s...it’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he growled, nipping her earlobe.
“Clay?” she managed, angling her head.
“Yeah?”
“Kiss me.”
He pulled her to her feet and turned her so that she faced him. “Oh, I intend to,” he said with such smoky sweetness that her whole body tingled. “I’m going to kiss you all over, until you’re begging for more. Then I’m going to make love to you. That is, if you’re ready.”
She put her hands on his chest. “I’ve been ready for days now.”
With a pleased sound, he pulled her into a searing kiss that took her breath away.
When he broke the kiss, they were both panting like runners after a race.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said, grabbing her hand and tugging her forward.
She wasn’t sure her legs would support her, but somehow they did.
“I want you to know that it’s been a while for me and that I’m clean,” he said as he hurried her down the hall.
“Same here.”
The drapes in his bedroom were already drawn, but dusky light crept through the crack where the drapes met. He quickly removed the bedspread.
The sheets looked fresh and clean. Dimly, she wondered whether he’d changed them because all along he’d known that she’d end up in his bed. Like every female he pursued.
Was she about to be one more in a countless string of women?
His deep, urgent kiss drowned out the doubts and every other thought in her head.
Then he was unzipping her dress and helping her out of it. He stared at her hungrily, and she was glad she’d worn her lavender satin-lace bra and matching bikini panties.
“You have the sexiest underwear.” Without taking his gaze from hers, he shouldered out of his shirt and tossed it aside.
He was as perfect as she’d imagined, with broad, smooth shoulders, a smattering of hair on his chest and lean, hard abs.
Her attention drifted lower, to the arousal straining his fly. She unbuckled his belt, noting his hot, slitted gaze.
When she reached for the pull tab of his zipper, he sucked in a breath and held very still.
She worked the tab down, Clay groaning as her knuckles brushed his hard length.
In no time he stepped out of his pants and kicked them aside. He was wearing gray boxers that barely contained his erection. He was very well-endowed.
Then she saw the long red scar above his knee. “Is that from your recent accident?” she asked.
He nodded. “The one that ruined my career.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Not at the moment.” He pulled her into another kiss.
Then they were both naked, lying on the bed, sharing kisses and caresses that left her aching and drunk with feeling.
“You are the most beautiful woman,” Clay whispered as he explored her body.
Every touch heightened her need, until she was desperate for more. When she was frantic, he knelt between her legs, parted her folds and licked the mo
st sensitive part of her.
A low moan filled the air. Her own, she dimly realized. As she rocked her hips, he slid his fingers inside. His mouth still on her, he moved his fingers until she spiraled into a dazzling climax.
When at last she shuddered to a finish and lay still, he raised his head and grinned.
“You look awfully pleased with yourself,” she said.
His gratified expression only deepened. “You seem pretty happy, too.”
“I am. Now it’s your turn.” She smiled sweetly. “On your back, mister.”
She kissed Clay’s mouth, his chin, his neck. Licked his flat nipples and made her way down his torso, over muscled flesh and scars from old bull-riding injuries. When she reached his navel and started south, he sucked in his belly, slid his hands under her hair and cupped the back of her head, guiding her where he wanted her.
“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured as she touched the velvety tip of his penis with her tongue.
She’d barely started exploring before he stopped her. Suddenly she was on her back with Clay over her. He kissed her hungrily and she caught fire all over again. “I want you inside me, Clay.”
His eyes darkened. “Hold that thought.”
He turned away and yanked open the drawer of the bedside table, sheathed himself, then positioned himself over her. “Now, where were we?”
“Here.” Sarah arched up so that his arousal pressed against the place she most wanted him.
In one slick move, he slid into her, filling and stretching her. She gasped in pleasure.
Misinterpreting, Clay froze. “Too much, too fast?”
“Just right.”
He pulled back so that he was hardly inside her, making her whimper. “Please, Clay.”
With a growl he pushed in again, so deep, he became a part of her. “Better?”
There were no words to describe her feelings. “Oh, God, yes. Please don’t stop.”
He began the ancient, driving rhythm. The tension inside her tightened to the breaking point, and the whole world honed down to the place where they were joined.
A powerful climax began, and she forgot everything but Clay and the pleasure crashing through her.