Deep regret hit her hard and fast. In a previous life she would’ve yanked open the door, dragged him inside her room, and would’ve had her way with him, or vice versa. She was game for adventure. If the man wanted his way with her, she wouldn’t put up too much of a fight.
But this wasn’t a previous life. Things had changed. She’d changed. No longer did she have that spontaneous, presumptuous, easily reachable guidance to life. She had responsibilities, houseguests to keep happy, and kids to teach come fall.
“Why not?” he pleaded.
“Because you’re a dangerous man, Mr. Patterson, and it’s late. And I already gave you a room, of which you traded off. So, no, you cannot come into my bedroom. Go to bed, please? Tomorrow is a busy day, and I would like to get some sleep, if you don’t mind.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“Can’t what?”
“Go to bed.”
Julia stomped her bare foot in utter frustration to the unbreakable determination in this man. “Why the hell not?”
“I need someone to tuck me in,” he whined playfully.
Julia groaned, yet again. Then she smiled. “You are truly hopeless. Do you know that?” She placed her forehead on the hard wooden door, closing her eyes, her chest tightening to the strange pull he seemed to have on her.
“I was going for hopeful. But hopeless will have to suffice, for now,” he said.
Julia unlocked her bedroom door and yanked it open quickly. She wore little more than short silk shorts and a matching tank top because she’d been too hot to be wearing anything else. And the fact that her other, more matronly pajamas were in the dirty clothes hamper, she’d been reduced to this.
Flannel would have been so much better the instant his eyes drew to her chest. As said, foolish is that foolish does.
**
Saber had an extremely difficult time at maneuvering his gaze away from Julia’s sensual attire and enormously enticing body. And those long legs? Jeez! The skimpy silk shorts covered very little of her person. He had a hard-pressed time to remain in tempered control. He wouldn’t even dare his eyes to go anywhere near the thought of her tank top. A man could only stand for so much torture.
“Do you always greet your late night visitors wearing only that?” he asked recklessly, standing on the threshold, dressed in blue jeans and T-shirt, his boots off, both socks still on.
Julia glanced down at what others would certainly call sexy bedroom attire and smiled sweetly. “No. But I don’t usually have late night visitors that knock on my bedroom door, uninvited, either.”
“You don’t?” A slow cock of his brow stated he did not believe her.
Julia’s answer was brisk. “No.” She even glared at his face. “I don’t. Especially at one o’clock in the morning.”
“That’s too damn bad, Little Darlin’. It’s really nice at this time of day. And the scenery’s not that terrible to look at.” This time his rakish gaze roamed her entire body, head to toe.
Julia’s smile fell as she wrapped her arms around her torso. “What do you want, Mr. Patterson?”
He knew he was making her think, and right now she looked as though she wanted to clear her head and forget all about him. He couldn’t have that, since she’d already tempted his sanity into the realm of no return by opening her door.
“Can’t I come into your room, invited?” He took it upon himself to lean his large frame against her door jamb, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to look at ease, despite the late hour that it was. And despite not one single molecule of his body was at ease.
While she was dressed like this, he was anything but. But he was preventing her from being able to shut the door in his face, or shut him out, so it was a win/win.
“You coming into my room would be like the bend in a willow tree during a hurricane. Eventually something will give. And I don’t want that something to be me.”
His brows rose even higher. “I’d like to come into your room so we can discuss what it was I want, in private, minus any hurricanes.”
“The answer is still no,” she quibbled.
“Okay.” He shrugged his shoulders, making a move to stand. “Goodnight then.”
Julia’s eyes widened. Her arms dropped quickly. “That’s it? Just ‘Goodnight’? No wise cracks? No taking the bull by the horns? No forcing your way into here by way of a sweet-talking man with devilish dimples who’s trying his best to get my goat?”
“It is night, Ms. Hillard. And now, has turned into a very good morning, thanks to what you’re wearing.” And that it was nearly one-fifteen in the a.m. “But I never force myself into a woman’s bedroom when not asked to come in. Nor do I do anything else by force. So, yes. Goodnight, Little Darlin’. Sweet dreams.” Saber turned to go. He took only a few steps from Julia’s tempting body before pausing.
She’d showered before bed, smelling of sweet intoxicating lilac. He was certainly going to regret coming to her door, and regret doing so for the remainder of his night. But such was a foolish man’s life.
“What is it you really came to me for?” she breathlessly asked, barefooting it into the hall as he stopped to turn toward her.
Jesus! If he could only remember what he’d come to her door for, without her looking at him as she was; eyes wide with promise, her lips pouty, her fiery red hair a tangled mess.
Saber cleared his throat, willing his body to respond. “I wanted to ask if you’d be my guest at the rodeo on Friday night.”
“You wanted to ask me that at one o’clock in the morning?” She sputtered out her surprise.
“You weren’t asleep.”
“Neither were you, apparently.” It was simply too hot to sleep.
She drifted her sight over his everyday attire, lingering on his chest.
Saber could have sworn her eyes could touch his flesh. He could swear her fingers had been set against his pecs. He had to clear his throat again.
“I’ve been scheduling my practice rides with Butch. What’s your excuse for not being asleep?”
Butch was one of the older gentlemen inside the boarding house. Gray, stingy, he wasn’t very good with the ladies, and tended to force his way around things. The older Butch got, the worse he acted. Yet Butch was a good guy, when it came down to it. He was the one the four others could count on when times were tough.
“I don’t need an excuse. This is my home, remember?”
Saber’s one eyebrow shot up, reaching heights he could only imagine. “I am more than aware of this. So, what’s it going to be, Ms. It’s-my-house Hillard?”
“What’s what going to be?”
He watched in amusement the fact he’d caught her staring at his chest again.
“Will you bend to my every desire and be my guest at the rodeo Friday night? Or should I ask someone else? I’ve heard around town about this woman, Rachel.” He was pretending that he would even consider it an option, hoping to get a rise out of her.
Julia glared at his heated suggestion. “Do I even have a choice in this?”
“No. Not really. It’s you or Rachael. Take your pick.”
“Then yes, I will go, but only as your guest, not as your date.”
Saber chuckled openly. “Did I say a word about it being a date?”
**
Saber’s tempered arrogance had come out, full tilt; hitting Julia squarely in the chest. She felt the absolute fool, the humiliation burning deep and bright.
She’d thought he meant as a date. Now, she wasn’t so sure about Mr. Patterson’s intentions. Most men in town weren’t as open as being players, as this man was. He’d take some time getting used to.
“No. I am, um …No, you did not. My mistake.” Her line of sight lowered hurriedly to the floor.
Saber stepped forward to stand mere inches from her overheated body. “If I was askin’ you out on a date, Ms. Hillard, it sure as hell would not be to a smelly, horse-infested rodeo.” His voice velvet smooth to her ears. “Now would it?”
> “Um, I don’t know. It could. It might. Where, exactly, would it be then? If you were ever to ask me, that is.” The words stumbled over her tongue like a giddy schoolgirl who’d been asked out on her very first date and didn’t know the correct way to respond.
“Are you, by chance, offering the pleasure of such a thing?” he taunted.
“No!” she blurted. “No. I am doing no such thing. That’s completely ridiculous.”
“Seems to me it is exactly what you are doin’.” Saber proved it by producing a devilish grin aimed directly at her pride.
“But I’m not!” she sputtered; much afraid he’d just read her mind. And, somehow, figured he’d use it against her at a later date.
“If you say so, Little Darlin’. But if you were actually offering to go out on a date with me, it would be to dinner, then a long walk. Definitely not the rodeo. And there would be a whole lot of kissin’ along the way just to spite your tongue. And what a lovely tongue it is.”
She’d licked her lips, so he was being purposely merciless.
Saber then backed up. “But as you say, you are not offering, and I’m not askin’.” As final insult, he grinned from ear to ear.
Julia could barely hold her anger in check. She stormed into the sanctity of her bedroom and slammed her door right in his face; careless of the fact she may have startled the other men out of their deep slumber at one in the morning.
He tapped at the closed panel. Moments later, he muttered, “Are we still on for Friday night?”
“In your dreams, Cowboy.” Thank goodness there was a two-inch thick door between him and her and she could get away with calling him this.
“How does six o’clock sound?” he asked, ignoring her quick retort.
“I said…”
“I know what you said, Julia Margaret,” he warned. “I have ears. This time, how about doin’ better at makin’ me believe those words?”
“Go away!”
“I’m goin’. But you know I’m right, Little Darlin’.” To pour even more salt in the wound, he whistled Dixie all the way back to his room.
His chuckle had created the gooseflesh to rise on her entire body.
**
Saber couldn’t check his grin as he strode toward the other end of the hall where his bed was. His borrowed bed. His small, uncomfortably narrow; not worthy of a man’s snot …Hell, Uncle LeRoy usually more astute to what his nephew desired, this had been one of those times when good old Uncle LeRoy had made Saber sweat it out, proving the elder as a man of his worth—and, of consequence.
If Saber wanted to get closer to Julia Hillard, he would have to pay for it. Unfortunately, Friday night, a full week from now, was an awful long time to wait to pay such a hefty due for a hot date with an even hotter woman. And it would be a date. Make no mistake about that.
Little did she know he’d already set up a candlelight dinner, bottle of wine, and a whole lot of romancin’—before, during, and after the rodeo. He had it planned down to the very last detail. Huge bouquet of roses included in this ‘non-date’.
First, he had to keep his ass on a very mean bull, the meanest thus far, for the full eight seconds. He had to live up to his namesake and draw in the points for getting his butt shit-whipped. Anything less than eight seconds and he’d never live it down. Nor live down the good-nature jibes from his testosterone cohorts.
The promoters had scheduled him to ride last, as always. That meant he would have to wait a good two to three hours before he could see what Ms. Hillard was made of. Steel and stone? Or all soft and sweet on the inside?
Once that particular endeavor completed, the glory and praise given over to him on a silver platter, plus the recognition of riding the meanest, nastiest bull alive…Julia Hillard would literally be putty in his hands. There wasn’t a single woman alive that could resist the charms of an accomplished Bull Man. Patterson had never met one before.
And if there was one thing in his life he knew he could do, and do well, it was keeping his ass on a roped bull for the full eight seconds just to please the masses. If lucky, he’d do his eight; react to the adoration of the crowd, then startle this woman right out of her boots by claiming her as his. It shouldn’t be that hard to accomplish if turning on the charm.
He sat down on the bed, putting real thought to how this charm would come out.
Chapter Fourteen
There was a lot to be said about the complexities of a small town. An awful lot most city folks simply ignored.
Monday morning the rodeo trucks rolled in, dragging in the dirt, dust, grime and heat, along with their big eighteen wheels. Julia spent the entire day washing windows, floors, and rugs, trying to keep as busy as she could inside the boarding house, with hopes to keep her mind off Friday night’s rather unexpected turn of events.
Tuesday afternoon, Ms. Theodora Rosebud started her Bitch Day cycle a full six days early. She came straight over to the Tressle Boarding House quite early in the morning to warn Julia of the terrible dangers of so many men showing up and surrounding an unprotected single female. And, to tell Julia what she should actually do to protect herself from the likes of any one of them. Namely, have a loaded shotgun in the near vicinity of her bed.
She’d reiterated all women should know how to use one under duress.
Theodora had said, “One can never be too sure when it comes to rowdy, sweaty men,” as if she knew anything about such things.
Late Wednesday afternoon, while taking her morning run down Main Street, purely because her day had started out so poorly and it was the first and only moment she’d gotten to do her daily run, Julia witnessed two police vehicles, eight rodeo men, and numerous spectators watching, with interest, the escape of a very mean two thousand pound bull. Its name…White Hot Lightning. There wasn’t a stitch of black hair on the creature’s hide; an all-white hide, and horns that were at least four feet in length.
It took five full hours to catch the beast. Moreover, when they had, the bull turned even meaner. Theodora’s patch of lettuce would never be the same. And a few of the old woman’s prized rosebushes got crushed under the weight of the animal’s hooves.
If Officer Wesley hadn’t been close to shooting the animal, just to get it to turn its head in the right direction and go back from where it came from, Ms. Theodora Rosebud would have. She’d been nurturing one of her rose bushes over the last few months in order to take it to the local fair come late August, and hopefully win first place for her efforts. Nothing was to mess with a prized winning rosebush with Theodora’s name on it. Not even a rodeo bull on the loose.
Officer Wesley had given the man in charge of the animal a hefty fine for endangering the lives of the many citizens of Preacher’s Bend. No amount of bribery could be done to get him out of five hundred dollars he’d surely not counted on losing, especially when Ms. Rosebud got riled up into angry. The owner of the bush wanted the man thrown in jail. Regrettably, the holding cells were temporarily occupied by a few of the more rowdy of men in town.
Luckily Thursday quieted down a bit; a more usual routine, with normal activities taking place. Folks were milling about, doing a little grocery shopping, and a little catching up with the gossip over a cup of coffee down at Rachel’s. With only a few late-niters coming out of the police station, yawning; everything was as it should be.
Amazingly, an entire rodeo had been set up on the outskirts of town by late Thursday afternoon. The animals were where they were supposed to be. And each of the four hundred men already tucked in motels, hotels, and trailers that ran down a stretch of wooded highway nearly fifty miles long, behaving, with not a single woman in sight harmed.
Julia was among those individuals not harmed. She’d done her best to stay clear of the west end of town and kept to the running of the boarding house. She had no great desire to come face to face with a large loose bull again. Her father kept a few bulls over the years on his farm, but nothing quite like White Hot Lightning. Just the creature’s name tightened he
r gut.
Saber Patterson, however, virtually disappeared from sight. Julia wasn’t aware if he was still offering what he’d asked of her, or not. So, come Friday evening she wasn’t ready when her came calling to her door.
Dressed in raggedy old jeans and a horribly stained T-shirt, she caught sight of the man standing on her front porch with a large bouquet of roses in his hand. His presence stunned her speechless.
“You’re not dressed?” Saber raised a brow to her battered attire as she opened the door.
He had on a very nice looking red silk shirt and new blue jeans. With a jet-black cowboy hat on his blond head to match the jet-black cowboy boots on his feet, he looked delicious.
She unconsciously licked her lips, expecting tonight’s dessert to be so damn fine.
“Dressed for what?”
Julia stepped aside as he entered the Tressle Boarding House. Saber could come and go at will. Tonight he’d chosen to ring the doorbell, as a gentleman should when asking a woman out. He removed his hat once inside.
“For our date.”
“You told me it wasn’t a date, that I would be your guest, nothing more. I was going to meet you there.”
“It is a date and I lied, and you’re not dressed either way; guest, date, and everything in between.”
Julia took the flowers Saber held out to her and sniffed them appreciatively. “Thank you. But I wish you would have told me what it really was. I wouldn’t have put most of my day into painting the den with two different colors or cleaning up all the dust.”
First eyeing the flowers, then Saber, she added, “You didn’t steal these from Theodora Rosebud, did you? She’s pissed enough about the rodeo. I hate to see what happens if one from that rodeo swipes her flowers.”
Saber grinned, shaking his head. “No. I didn’t steal them. They came from a florist down in Sparta. I tried callin’, Little Darlin’. You wouldn’t pick up the phone.”
“Didn’t hear it ring,” she supplied, moving toward the kitchen with the unexpected, delicate bouquet. She’d never been given roses before. It made her all a quiver. “Besides, don’t you live here, temporarily? You could have stopped in at any time today and said ‘Get a move on it, Julia.”
Seduction of Saber (Saving the Sinners of Preacher's Bend #3) Page 11