“I’m not ready—I just got my drink.”
She patted the back of his hand. “You stay. I have a million things to do for the upcoming charity ball. We’ll talk later.”
“What about dinner tonight?”
“I can’t—I have a committee meeting.” She rose to her feet.
“I can come by later tonight and we can go to my place. Richard’s in Denver on business for the rest of the week.”
“That won’t work. I promised Logan and Rhea I’d babysit.”
Before she could dash away, Warren grabbed her wrist and held it tight … too tight.
“I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with you, but you better get over it fast. I’m done playing your fucking game,” he said in a voice so low, she barely heard him.
“You’re hurting me,” she said, yanking out of his hold. “And I’m not playing a game with you. I’m just out of sorts like I already told you. Thanks for lunch.”
Scarlett hurried away, her heels tapping on the floor. She couldn’t say she blamed Warren for being fed up with her; she’d been sulky and edgy ever since she let a stranger fuck her brains out. If she’d felt guilty about it, at least that would’ve been something, but she didn’t. Maybe I should go away for the summer. La Jolla or Malibu would be great.
The valet guy pulled her midnight blue Mercedes in the front and she walked over, handing him a tip before sliding onto the cool leather seats.
When she turned into the driveway, Scarlett saw the indoor tennis court taking shape over to the far left of the house. Why her father was hellbent on building it was beyond her, especially since no one in the family played the game on a regular basis. Her mother would get together with her friends and play at the club, but the truth was that they spent most of the time inside at the bar getting sloshed. For some unknown reason, her dad liked the idea of having an indoor tennis court, so he decided to have one built. For the past two days, Scarlett had woken up to the sounds of drills, saws, and hammers, and she couldn’t wait until the damn thing was finished.
“Did you have a nice lunch with Warren?” her mother asked as Scarlett walked into the sun room. Her mother was bent over one of her many plants, pruning it.
“It was okay.” Scarlett kicked off her high-heeled sandals and wiggled her toes.
Her mother looked over her shoulder, a slight frown burrowing into the lines of her forehead.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Bending down, Scarlett picked up her shoes. “It means it was okay.” She knew where this conversation was going, so she started walking out of the room.
“Your father thinks Warren should’ve proposed to you by now. He’s very angry about it and thinks that you’re putting Warren off.”
“Life doesn’t run according to Dad’s schedule. Anyway, I don’t want to marry Warren.” Scarlett looked over her shoulder and saw her mother cup a hand over her mouth as she gasped.
“What are you saying?” she whispered.
“I guess, that I’m not that interested in him. Dad’s been the one pushing this, not me.”
“Warren is a great catch and any woman would be proud to stand by his side.”
“Then let ‘any woman’ do that.”
“You ungrateful, spoiled brat! Your father does everything for you,” her mother said through clenched teeth.
“I’m not getting sucked into this, Mom. I’m going to take a cool shower and try and read even though it sounds like a construction zone in here because of Dad’s crazy-ass idea that we just had to have a damn indoor tennis court.” She stalked out of the room and climbed up the stairway, blocking out her mother’s crying. One thing she’d learned over the years was that her mom was quite the manipulative drama queen.
Scarlett quickly stepped out of her dress, hung it in the closet, and walked into her en suite bathroom for a refreshing shower. After she’d dried off and brushed her long golden hair, she padded over to the dresser and picked out something to wear. She threw on a pair of white shorts and a yellow tank top, then walked out of the bedroom. As she descended to the main floor, the high-pitched whirring of electric saws sliced through her head, and she pressed her fingertips to her throbbing temples.
“Are you all right, Miss Scarlett?”
She smiled weakly at Heddy. The head housekeeper had been with the family before Scarlett had been born. Barely over five feet tall, Heddy’s pale blue eyes held concern in them as she looked up at Scarlett. She ran her hands over her crisp black uniform then touched the top of her tight gray bun.
“It’s just all the noise from the construction,” Scarlett said.
“Why don’t you go into the family room and I’ll bring you a cold towel to place over your forehead.”
She shook her head slightly, the movement caused her to wince in pain. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going to the club to meet up with Maryann and Julie,” her mother said, looking cool and sophisticated in a cream linen dress that skimmed over her slight figure. Her blonde hair was coiled at the nape of her neck, and a strand of South Sea pearls rested against her collarbone.
“Okay,” Scarlett replied, thinking that the red lipstick her mother had on was a bit too much.
“Please try and be in a better mood when I get home. We aren’t finished discussing your attitude toward your soon-to-be fiancé.” She turned to Heddy. “I want you to bring some lemonade to the men working on the tennis house. Has it been made?”
The older woman bobbed her head. “Yes, Mrs. Mansfield.”
With a curt tip of her head, Pamela Mansfield crossed over to the door and walked out.
“I can bring the lemonade over to the workers,” Scarlett said as a thread of satisfaction wove through her. Just thinking about how appalled her mother would be about that made her smile.
A look of horror washed over Heddy’s face. “Oh, no, Miss Scarlett. I’ll have Clara and Jane go down there.”
No matter how many times she’d told Heddy not to call her “Miss Scarlett,” the house manager always did. One time when Scarlett’s mother overheard her telling Heddy to drop the Miss, her mother had chastised Scarlett, telling her that it would be disrespectful for a servant to call anyone in the family by their proper name only. “Heddy and the others know their place,” her mother would say so often that it made Scarlett want to scream.
“That’s crazy. They have enough to do and so do you. I’m not doing much of anything, so I’ll go.”
“But …” Heddy’s mouth puckered and worry sank down deep into the lines of her face.
“Don’t worry about my mother—I’m not going to say a word.”
“Miss Scarlett, it just isn’t proper.” Heddy’s gaze ran over her.
She laughed. “I’ll be fine.” Heddy could be so old-fashioned. “I’ll have either Clara or Jane help me carry some of the pitchers.”
Heddy looked unconvinced, and she kept shifting in place. Scarlett went over to her and hugged her lightly. “Please don’t worry. It’s all right. Anyway, I’m not in high school anymore. I’m twenty-five years old.” She pulled away. “I’m all grown up now.”
Heddy nodded, a strained smile on her lips. She slowly turned away and headed toward the kitchen.
As Scarlett ambled on the brick pathway toward the construction, she gripped a pitcher in each hand. Clara followed behind her at a slower pace, balancing three pitchers on a silver tray.
“Oh, shit,” Scarlett mumbled as some of the lemonade spilled over her hands. She stopped and put the pitchers down then wiped off the sticky liquid and resumed her march.
An eerie hush followed them as she and Clara made their way toward the workers. The men stopped whatever it was they were doing to stare at them as they approached the construction zone.
A dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes walked over, meeting them halfway. Tattoos covered his muscular chest and arms, and Scarlett watched in fascination as the ink danced when he flexed his arm to w
ipe the sweat off his face.
“Hi,” she said. Tilting her head to Clara, she said, “It’s so hot that we thought you’d like some ice cold lemonade.”
The man darted his eyes from her face to the two pitchers she carried in her hands. A slow smile broke out over his face, revealing a slight gap between his two front teeth.
“That’s real nice of you,” he said, his gaze slowly running up her body. “I’m Smokey—the contractor.”
His stare made her self-conscious and she wished she would’ve changed into her jeans. Masking her discomfort, she put the two pitchers down, took the plastic cups from the tray, and poured lemonade into them.
She pointed over at a small wrought iron table. “Please put the tray down on that table, Clara.”
Several men came over as Scarlett and Clara handed out the refreshments. Scarlett filled several more cups, and when she looked up to hand them out, her gaze locked with Shadow’s. One corner of his mouth hitched up in a cocky smirk, and her heart skipped a beat as a rush of nerves flowed through her.
“Hey,” he said.
“Your lemonade,” she whispered.
His fingers brushed hers as he accepted the drink. Their gazes met and held. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Scarlett’s stomach fluttered, clenched, and fluttered again. He drew his hand away from hers very slowly and took a sip from the plastic cup. She watched as he swallowed, mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple moved up and down.
He wiped his full lips with the back of his hand and returned the empty cup to her. “That was real good. I’d even say it might be the best I’ve ever had.” The deep timbre of his voice sent shivers along her spine. “Thanks.” He winked and stepped back, and two workers quickly took his place in front of her.
“Clara, I’ll fill the rest of the cups and you can hand them out, okay?” She hoped her voice didn’t betray her nervousness.
“Yes, Miss Scarlett.” Clara came around front and Scarlett took her place at the table.
After she finished pouring the lemonade into all the cups, Scarlett scanned the area looking for Shadow. She saw him standing next to a sawhorse, his dark hair shining under the sun like spilled ink. She couldn’t believe he was here … at her house … so close to her.
He looked more rugged than he had at the party, but not any less handsome. Coarse stubble covered his chiseled jaw, and more tattoos than she’d seen that night decorated his arms. As Shadow picked up a wooden plank, she noticed the corded muscles in his chest strain. She tried to look away, but there was just something too magnetic about the man, and her eyes swept back to him. They traveled over his broad shoulders and chest to the tight lines of muscle that rippled like waves as he worked. Her gaze skipped down to a narrow waist and rock hard abs, and she groaned inwardly as she pictured her tongue running up and down the rigid dips of his magnificent body. A deep V of muscles disappeared beneath the waistband of his low-slung jeans, and knowing what was below them sent a frisson of excitement through her.
He’s so damn sexy. Images of them together made Scarlett clench her thighs together and fan herself with her hand. Occasionally, Shadow would look over, his heated gaze lingering on hers before moving to her mouth and landing on her breasts. A few of the workers, including the contractor, seemed to notice that something was going on between the two of them. Smokey walked over to Shadow and it looked like they were talking about her because the dark-haired man would glance over at her from time to time.
I hope Shadow’s not telling him what we did. I’ll die of embarrassment if he is.
“The lemonade is gone, Miss Scarlett,” Clara said as she picked up the silver tray.
Scarlett tore her gaze away from her hunky hookup then removed three of the empty pitchers from the tray. “Carrying them all is too heavy. Let’s head back to the house.”
Scarlett walked toward the house and could feel his eyes staring at her. She held open the back screen door for Clara, but before Scarlett went inside herself, she glanced back at Shadow, his eyes met and locked onto hers. For a long moment neither of them moved while desire wove between them like a sparking current. It was only when the contractor stepped in front of Shadow, blocking him from her sight, that Scarlett was able to turn away. She quickly entered the house and closed the door, then walked into the study and sat down. Scarlett leaned forward in her seat, placed her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on the back of her hands. She stared at the books lining the shelves of the custom-made cases and waited for her body to calm down. Seeing Shadow was a shock, but seeing him shirtless with his muscular chest and arms gleaming with sweat in the summer heat was a delicious treat. Of course she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. And she knew exactly what he was packing between those muscular thighs of his. She had seen it, touched it, and … Shivers danced over her skin as the memory of him thrusting inside her flooded her mind.
“I have to stop thinking about him!” She leaned back and pounded her fist on the desk. But the truth was that as hard as she tried, Scarlett couldn’t get the sexy man out of her thoughts. For the next few hours, she tried to concentrate on the upcoming fundraiser that she was chairing. It was to raise money for a charity that was dear to her: the Sheridan Center for Children. The organization’s mission was to empower children who have experienced abuse or neglect or trauma in an effort to bravely and safely change their life’s story. Much to her mother’s chagrin, Scarlett had been active with the Sheridan Center for the past two years. Her mother had pushed her to be involved with the more prestigious charities like the Children’s Hospital or the theater, but Scarlett had fallen in love with the work that the Sheridan Center was doing. She’d always felt blessed to have been born into a privileged family, and she never lost sight that so many people didn’t have the same opportunities she’d had as a child. Scarlett just wanted to give back any way she could.
A knock on the door made her jump.
“Come in,” she said. Her muscles tensed up as she stared at the door, hoping Shadow would be behind it. Her shoulders sagged when Heddy stood in the doorframe.
“Would you like anything else before the staff and I leave, Miss Scarlett?”
Scarlett took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes lightly. “Is it five thirty already?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“I didn’t realize the time had passed so quickly. Is my mother home?”
“No, Miss Scarlett.”
God, how I wish she’d just call me Scarlett. “I’m fine, Heddy. Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You have a good night too, Miss Scarlett.” With a curt tip of her head, the house manager walked out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Scarlett switched off the computer and stretched, then moved her head from side to side, working out the kinks in her neck. She’d been sitting for several hours hunched over the keyboard. She pushed away from the desk and ambled to the kitchen in search of a snack.
The house was quiet and the construction noise that had been a constant since the morning was gone. A fruit bowl sat on the granite island, and Scarlett plucked out an apricot and went over to the sink to wash it. She glanced out the window and saw that the workers had already left. He didn’t even stop by to say goodbye. Scarlett quickly pushed away any feelings of hurt. I’m being ridiculous. Why would he stop by? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. She dried the apricot with a paper towel, then bit into it. The sweet juice trickled down her chin, and she dabbed it away with the towel. Apricots were one of her favorite fruits, especially when they came from the farmers market.
Scarlett tossed the pit into the trash. She grabbed a bottle of water and sauntered over to the back door, unlocked the screen, and stepped out, determined to check out the tennis house that they didn’t need.
“Hey,” a deep voice said.
A small cry escaped from her lips as she stepped back toward the screen door. The scent of sawdust, leather, and sweat swirled around her.<
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“I didn’t mean to freak you out.” A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, and Shadow came closer to her.
He was much too close. “I just didn’t think anyone was here,” she whispered. She breathed in deeply, and her body tingled at his dangerously potent male scent. Scarlett tried to take her eyes away from the tan skin stretched tight across his chest, glistening in the sun.
“You got one of those for me?” he asked. His gaze crawled over her then landed on her mouth. A whisper of a smile touched his sensuous lips.
A flutter started deep in her belly, and she felt the immediate hot and intense sizzle of current between them a little frightening.
“Are you gonna invite me in?” he asked in a low voice.
“Yeah … sure … okay.” She turned away and breathed deeply a couple of times in order to regain her composure. “You must be real hot from working outside all day.” She wiped her damp hands on her shorts then opened the screen door. “Come on in. I’ll get you a bottle of water.” Nervous excitement streaked through her as she shuffled over to the refrigerator. “How’s the work coming along?” She bent down to grab the bottle from the bottom shelf.
“It’s going. How’ve you been?” he asked.
“Good,” she said, pretending to search for something in the fridge.
“You been thinking about me?” he asked.
“Uh … yeah … a little.” Like nonstop. “What about you?” She gripped the bottle in her hand and closed the refrigerator.
Shadow brought his arms around her waist and tugged her back against him. “You know the answer to that,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.
“Do I?” she asked weakly.
“Fuck yeah, baby.” His tongue was warm against the lobe of her ear, causing her breath to catch. “I been thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts about you.”
She shivered as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin just behind her ear. And when his hand moved higher on her waist she held her breath in anticipation.
“You’re so sexy and beautiful,” he whispered as his fingers teased her breast, cupping the weight while his thumb flicked over her nipple.
Shadow’s Surrender Page 6