by Francis Ray
A hard knot lodged in his gut. He recognized it for what it was, fear. There was a distinct possibility that this was one time, the first time, that he wouldn’t be able to walk away with a smile and a wave.
A short while later, Sabra stood, hugged each one, then started back to him. The eyes of the men she’d left and most of the men in the restaurant followed. The sheer fabric fluttered with each step, making a man visualize sliding it off her exotic body.
Desire caused Pierce’s body to clench, to throb with need. Her lazy strut tantalized, beckoned.
And he realized it would only get worse.
Last night he had done the impossible, the unheard of, and dreamed of her, hot and needy in his arms. Again. He’d awakened in a cold sweat, his body aching for release.
She was the kind of woman a man would beg on his hands and knees to come back. Well, not this man. He would walk away and not look back.
He stood when she reached the table. “If you’re ready, we can leave.” If she was surprised, she didn’t show it.
“Of course.” She picked up one of the small purses she favored for evenings. On the way out, she waved to her friends and blew them air kisses.
Pierce saw the men whispering, their gaze following their every step. He thought he was used to the attention Sabra got from men. He was wrong. Neither spoke on the short walk back to the condo building.
“Now you’re the one being quiet,” Sabra said after he unlocked her door and handed her the key.
“Do you ever get used to it?” he asked.
Her brows bunched. “What?”
“Men falling all over themselves for you.” He hadn’t meant the words to come out so harsh and condemning.
“I wasn’t aware that anyone was,” she replied easily.
He searched her calm, beautiful eyes and decided she was telling the truth. She was probably used to it by now. Men fantasized about her, and she barely knew they existed. He wouldn’t be one of them. He drew her into his arms, his mouth finding hers, kissing her deeply, wanting to block out everything except the two of them.
After a long time his head lifted. He stared into her dazed eyes, inhaled the subtle exotic jasmine scent that was so much a part of her.
No, she wouldn’t forget him. But neither would he forget her. Reaching around her, he opened the door a few inches. Isabella barked. “Good night.”
“Good night. How about breakfast around nine in the morning? My treat.”
“All right,” he answered, realizing that he could get in over his head if he wasn’t careful.
“I’ll knock on your door at a quarter till.” Smiling, she went inside and closed the door. He just hoped he could shut away the growing feelings he had for her as easily.
SABRA WAS RUNNING OUT OF CANDIDATES. CLOSING the door to her apartment the next morning, she went to Pierce’s door and rang the doorbell. There were only two names left and she was seeing them that afternoon. If they didn’t pan out, she didn’t know what she’d do next.
She’d tossed around the idea of asking Pierce in a roundabout way if he had heard any of his friends talk about an investment that went bad but decided that that was too risky. He was too inquisitive. Any answer she gave him had to be logical or he’d worry over it like Isabella did over a bone. Then, too, the investment broker might have been too embarrassed to tell anyone and had kept the entire incident a secret.
Pierce opened the door. This morning he wore a white shirt, herringbone jacket, and black slacks. In a word, yummy. Her pulse raced, her thoughts scattered.
“Good morning.” He stepped into the hall and took her into his arms. He didn’t ask permission. He just took her lips—and took her body on a wild, hot ride.
Her eyelids fluttered open when he lifted his head. She licked her lips. “That’s some good morning.”
“It makes up for the good nights.” Catching her hand, Pierce started for the elevator.
“That it does. What are your plans for today?” she asked, enjoying the tingling sensation running up her arm. The elevator doors opened to let a resident out. They stepped on.
“Just the usual. More writing for you?”
“Yes.” She thought again of asking him about the investors as the elevator door opened on the first floor and they stepped out. She wasn’t sure how. Perhaps that was why she missed the two men approaching them.
“Sabra, darling.”
She felt Pierce’s hand clench on hers, then glanced around to see her agent, Dave, striding toward her. With him was Britt Powell, a renowned actor and one of People magazine’s ten sexiest men. Britt was also her would-be leading man if she decided to do the movie.
In the next moment, Dave enveloped her in a hug as he always did when they had been apart for any period of time. Thin as a rail, with a long, boyish face, Dave was one of those people who lived life to the fullest. With Isabella’s leash in one hand and Pierce holding the other, Sabra stood there until Dave stepped back.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Tempting you, what else?” Always unflappable, he looked at Pierce and raised a brow. “A friend of yours?”
“I’m sorry. Pierce Grayson, Dave Hopper, my agent, and Britt Powell.”
Pierce was as slow to release her hand as Britt was to extend his. Puzzled by their attitudes, she glanced between the two. Dave was the only one smiling.
“Sabra, Britt and I came down to talk about the movie.” Dave said to Pierce, “You look as if you were on your way out, but it’s important that we speak to Sabra in private.”
“It’s up to Sabra,” Pierce said
Sabra had never seen Pierce’s face so cold, heard his voice so devoid of emotion. Then she recalled last night and what he had said about men. “We were on our way to breakfast.”
“I’m starved.” Britt slipped his manicured hands into his well-worn denims that were topped by a black tailored jacket and white shirt. Scuffed cowboy boots peeked from beneath his pants. “We left in a hurry. They didn’t have time to stock the jet.”
“A pity,” Pierce said.
Britt’s green eyes narrowed in his starkly handsome face. He was broader in the shoulders than Pierce, more muscles, and he knew how to use them. He’d been a bad boy at one time and reverted back from time to time for the sheer hell of it, or so he’d told her when they first met six months ago.
“Why don’t you join us for breakfast?” Sabra suggested before testosterone overruled good judgment.
“I had in mind something more . . . private,” Britt said.
Sabra almost gasped at his suggestive tone. “Britt—”
“I’ll make this easy.” Pierce turned to Sabra. “You know where to find me. Good-bye.”
Stunned, Sabra watched him walk away and couldn’t decide who she wanted to give a swift kick in the pants to first, Pierce or Britt.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
WHEN PIERCE TOOK HIS SEAT AT THE RESTAURANT HE was still steamed, but he was also angry at himself. What was wrong with him?
“What is it?” Sierra asked, taking a seat next to him. “Pierce?”
“I’m a fool.”
“What happened between you and Sabra?” she asked, her hand on his arm.
His gaze cut to her. “How do you know it’s about Sabra?”
“Look over my shoulder and you’ll see.”
Pierce turned and looked straight into Sabra’s eyes. She didn’t look happy. She was in line, waiting to be seated with the muscle-bound actor whom women went crazy over and her smiling agent.
She’d made her choice. Pierce signaled the waiter. “I’m having omelets this morning, Sierra. How about you?”
“The same.”
Pierce gave their orders to Carlos, who’d brought coffee, orange juice, and ice water with him. Sierra waited until the waiter withdrew. “Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
“It’s a start.” Pierce picked up the cup of coffee only to immediately set it down when the coffee burned his tongue.
Sierra handed him a glass of water. “Do what you do best and think before acting.”
The ice water cooled his tongue, but nothing could settle the churning in his gut. “I am. Whatever it was, it’s over.” He placed the glass on the table. “I don’t stand in line.”
Sierra placed her elbows on the table. “Could you be more specific?”
Pierce thought of not answering, but Sierra would just worry him until he told her. He’d rather get it out and over with so he could start forgetting Sabra. “Everywhere we go, men can’t seem to take their eyes off her.”
“So, her looks knocked you for a loop, but you expect all the other men on the planet to run in horror when they see her?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what did you expect them to do?” Sierra asked, sitting up as the waiter placed their food on the table. She quickly said the blessing.
“I expect her not to look back,” he said; then he clamped his teeth together.
Sabra stared at him a long time. So long, he stared back. “You’re jealous.”
He blew out a dismissive breath and cut viciously into his omelet. “That will be the day.”
“And that day is now.” She picked up her flatware. “Never thought I’d see it myself. It’s a good thing she likes you.”
Pierce stopped eating food he couldn’t taste. “How do you know that?”
“Because they’re seated in my line of vision and she keeps looking this way.” Sierra forked in her ham and cheese omelet. “Any other woman wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes off a hunky movie star like Britt Powell.”
“You recognize him?”
“Yep.” She sipped her juice. “He was rumored to be up for the lead in the movie version of the stage play Sabra starred in. I might as well tell you, there was a rumor they had a fling, but it was another tabloid lie.”
“How do you know?” he asked, forgetting he shouldn’t care.
Sierra propped her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her laced fingers. “For one thing, Sabra didn’t strike me as the fling type, or you two wouldn’t be still circling each other. For another, they might have on-screen chemistry, but I don’t see any now. It could be because Britt is scoping out other women, including me.”
“What?” Pierce jerked around to glare at the man. “Isn’t Sabra enough?”
Sierra chuckled. “Thank you for being concerned about me.”
Pierce faced her and tried to backpedal. “You can take care of yourself.”
“So can Sabra.” Sierra touched his arm again. “Just because men look doesn’t mean she’s looking back. Just like you’re not paying any attention to the two women across from us who are scoping you out.”
He didn’t even glance in the women’s direction. He knew in his brain what Sierra said was true, but he just couldn’t process it. “Perhaps it’s best this way. We’ll part as friends.”
“Your decision, but you’re going to want to kick yourself if Britt decides to make the rumors a fact.”
Pierce glared at Sierra. She glared right back.
SABRA HAD CALMED DOWN CONSIDERABLY BY THE time they reached the restaurant. Giving Britt a piece of her mind with both barrels and threatening not to do the movie if he didn’t behave had done the trick. The role of Jeff Moore was a meaty one, and one that would show he could do more than just be an action hero. He wanted the part.
Sabra wanted Pierce to smile at her again. Didn’t he realize that when he was with her, he was the only man she saw?
“Sabra, say the word and the deal is done,” David said.
“What?” Sabra pulled her gaze from Sierra and Pierce, who were leaving the restaurant.
“I think she was paying more attention to the man she was with when we arrived.” Britt sipped his espresso.
“And you to the woman he was with,” Sabra countered.
Britt smiled good-naturedly. “She’s a looker.”
“And his baby sister and she has three more brothers who’d beat you to a pulp if you messed with her,” Sabra said, somehow wishing that Pierce was as protective of her. He had blithely handed her over to Britt. If that was all she meant to him, so be it.
“Might be worth it.”
“Please,” Dave interjected. “Can we get back to the business at hand? Sabra, whatever you want, the studio is willing to listen to your terms. Homeward didn’t do as well as expected on its opening Saturday, and they need a hit.”
All business now, Britt leaned forward and pinned Sabra with his startling green eyes. “We could give it to them.”
She wanted to believe. Her role as Jessica, a fallen woman searching for redemption and love, had been her father’s favorite. “I’d give up a year of the theater. I might not be able to go back.”
“Bull.” Britt placed his hand over hers. “You’re good. You’re better than good. You’re great. The screen test we did proved that. You won a Tony for that role; you’ll grab the golden statue as well. Producers of screen and stage will be beating down your door.”
“I told her the same thing,” Dave quickly interjected.
“You both told me. Now let me make my own decision.” Pierce seemed to be the only one who understood her fears and didn’t push her. She’d thought it was because he cared; now she wasn’t sure. “Now, I have to get back and dress for rehearsals.” The men came to their feet with her. “I appreciate your coming.”
“We’ve been dismissed, Dave.” Britt placed several bills on the table.
“Just think about it.” Dave placed money on the table as well.
“I will. And I promise you’ll be the first to know.” Sabra started from the restaurant.
“But when will that be?” Dave asked after her.
“I wish I knew,” was the only answer she could give.
PIERCE WAS DETERMINED TO FORGET THAT HE’D ever held Sabra in his arms, that she’d trembled from his touch, that she’d made his blood run hot. But his usually disciplined mind wasn’t cooperating.
No matter what he did, he kept conjuring up images of her that, no matter how much he tried to bury himself in his work, kept reappearing.
It had been two long, excruciating days since he’d seen her. He left early and came home late to avoid the possibility. It didn’t sit well that he hadn’t been sure he wouldn’t break down and try to win her back.
He tossed the pen on his desk. What was he thinking? He’d never had her. And it was eating him up inside that he never would. Pushing up from his desk, Pierce turned his back on the pile of client folders he was updating, something he had seldom done in the past, and stared out at the endless stretch of darkness.
At times he felt the same vast emptiness. He knew what would banish the feeling and fill his empty arms. Sabra. She’d gotten under his skin. Muttering, he whirled back around in his chair.
No woman was going to tie up his mind so badly that he couldn’t work. Opening the folder, he swerved in his chair toward the computer and brought up the client’s file on the twenty-one-inch flat-panel monitor. Besides having a backup on a flash drive, Pierce also kept hard copies of his clients’ files. He was a cautious man.
Except when it came to Sabra. Pierce muttered an expletive, then jerked upright as a knock came on his office door. His heart raced. He wanted to deny the reason. When the door opened and he saw Sierra, he couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“Sorry.”
Denying it would have been impossible. “Did you bring me a sandwich?”
“You’d probably pick at it the same way you did breakfast.” Sierra eased a hip onto the other side of his desk. “The same way Sabra does with her lunch, I’m told.”
His hand poised on the key, then continued typing in data. “Oh.”
“Brandon is practically beside himself with worry.” Sierra picked up a bronzed letter opener. “You know how he is. I’m not sure he bought it that seasonal allergies had affected her appetite. Although her eyes did look a bit red and puffy when I saw
her in the elevator just now.”
Pierce knew when he was being baited—he just couldn’t resist the bait. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
Sierra shrugged and slipped off the desk. “I suppose. I better get moving if I want to squeak in under the wire and get takeout from Brandon. You want me to stop back by with something for you?”
“What? Er, no.” He couldn’t stand the thought of Sabra being ill and no one there for her. “Are you going to stop by Sabra’s place?”
“Nope. She said she was going to bed, and I don’t want to disturb her.” Sierra went to the door. “I’m sure she’s fine. Night.”
“Night.” The door closed, yet Pierce didn’t move. Another thought raced through his mind. What if Sabra wasn’t all right?
THE THINGS I DO FOR LOVE.
Sierra stood on the other side of Pierce’s office door and smiled. She’d put things in motion. Now it was up to the two stubborn people to give in and admit they missed each other. She was definitely taking a chance that the attraction between Sabra and Pierce was only sexual and not the forever kind of love that would put her firmly in her mother’s sights as the next one in line to get to the altar.
But Sierra didn’t like seeing Pierce unhappy. She tried not to recall that she’d also interfered with Morgan and Phoenix, then indirectly with Brandon and Faith. And look where that had ended . . . at the altar.
Sierra snorted, then crossed to the door leading to the hallway and let herself out. She loved her mother and didn’t look forward to being the one she was plotting against, but unlike her brothers, Sierra could handle it. Although her brothers were good, intelligent men, they’d tripped themselves up.
As Catherine had told Morgan, their mother could parade women in front of him all day long, but if none of them clicked, if he didn’t fall in love, their mother’s plan was useless. Of course, by that time, Morgan was already a goner.