by Sandra Brown
Feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, she blinked them away, unwilling to let him see them. She would rather have him think that she was a spoiled little girl than a woman whose raging desire for him had been thwarted.
And she did desire him.
If she hadn't been totally honest with everyone else the last several days, she should at least be honest with herself now. As aggravating as he was, she desired him.
Whatever brand of magic he weaved, it was none she had encountered before. With his loose cowboy's gait, lean body, piercing blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, aura of mystery, and insufferable arrogance, he had made her want him in a way she had never wanted another man.
She was acting like an ingénue in the throes of puppy love. Her girlfriends used to go positively ga-ga over her brothers, and she had scoffed at such silliness. It was beneath her dignity to respond to a man that way, to get all warm and dewy and feverish every time he looked at her.
But Harlan wasn't like other men. He possessed secret powers. He hadn't merely kissed her—he'd made love to her mouth. Travis's kisses had certainly never weakened her to the point of losing her balance. She had never lost her head in his embrace.
Harlan also coaxed more than physical responses from her. He tapped into her emotions. Apparently he'd been deprived as a child. His telling of missing high school had touched a cord in her, made her somehow want to make up for his deprivations.
She had wanted him to make up for hers too. She had wanted his touch, his fervent kisses. What he'd said about having his mouth all over her had been outrageous, yet the very thought of his lips on her skin made her body tremble even now.
She sneaked a glimpse of his profile from the corner of her eye. He would die without knowing how he had affected her. He would never know how much his rejection had wounded her, no matter how honorable his motives had been. He had rebuffed her when she was feeling more vulnerable than she had in her entire life.
Travis had raked her self-esteem over the coals. Now, while it was still seared and blistered, Harlan had drawn her back into the fire.
What bothered her most, however, was that this man had the capability of hurting her so badly. She couldn't figure out why.
Chase and Lucky were sitting together on the porch, sipping beer, when Harlan parked his truck in the driveway. What would they think of her if they learned that, on her first day on the job, she had made out with the hired help?
She glanced uneasily at Harlan. "What happened in the trailer was strictly between us."
"Right."
"So don't make any heartfelt confessions."
"Right."
"Forget it happened."
"Wrong."
She swung her gaze up to his. It had such impact, she had difficulty recovering her breath as she alighted and shakily made her way toward the house. "Hi."
"Where've you been?" Chase wanted to know.
"What difference does it make?"
"We've been waiting for you," Lucky said. "Chase didn't want to leave for home until you got here."
"Well, I'm here," she said testily.
"There's no call to get your dander up," her older brother said. "We had a brainstorm and wanted to discuss it with you."
"What kind of brainstorm?"
She moved beneath the porch covering to get out of the cold, gray drizzle. In her peripheral vision, she noticed that Harlan propped himself against one of the support posts, just as he'd been leaning against the corner of the Belchers' ivy-covered wall the first time she saw him.
"How'd she do, Harlan?" Lucky asked.
He cleared his throat. "She, uh, she did fine. Just fine. She's got a real feel for it."
Sage felt her cheeks growing warm. She didn't dare look at him, but tried to put him and his sexy kisses out of her mind and concentrate on what her brothers were saying.
Lucky was speaking excitedly. "The final say-so is up to you, of course."
"Say-so about what?"
"We wouldn't want you to approach him if you didn't feel absolutely comfortable about it," Chase said.
"Approach whom?"
"And he might say no," Lucky said.
"In which case," Chase butted in, "there would be no hard feelings."
"But he's got an inside track. He knows people with money who might be willing to invest in our new enterprise."
"All you have to do, Sage, is sell him on the idea."
Sage had been dividing her puzzled gaze between them. Now, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender, she laughed. "Who?" she cried. "Would one of you please tell me what and who you're talking about?"
"Dr. Belcher," Chase replied with a grin. "Travis's dad. Your future father-in-law."
* * *
Chapter 9
"Hi, Lucky. I'm sorry I'm calling so late."
"Harlan? What time is it?"
Harlan checked his wristwatch. "Just after two. Jeez, I'm sorry. I lost track of time."
"It's all right. I asked you to call me. Well?"
Harlan heard the sleepiness fading from Lucky's voice. He hated like hell waking him up from a dead sleep to tell him bad news. "Now I know why the school board was willing to sell me that computer so cheaply."
For days he had been scavenging the town for a secondhand computer and had finally heard of one the public school system was willing to part with for a nominal price.
"It doesn't work," was Lucky's dismal guess.
"Not so far."
"Damn."
"Ditto."
The silence between the two telephone terminals was rife with disappointment. "Well, come on home," Lucky told him. "You shouldn't have stayed with it this long."
"No, I'm going to try one more thing before calling it a night. Should I telephone Chase?"
"Naw. I know he asked you to, but why wake him up if the news is bad?"
"My thoughts exactly."
"Damn," Lucky repeated, "I wish Sage would call and report in, so we'd know where we stood with Belcher."
Harlan concentrated on a hangnail as he picked at it. Trying to sound casual, he asked, "Nothing yet?"
"Not a word. I guess she didn't want to talk business over New Year's Eve. She and Travis probably had plans."
Though he knew better, Harlan went along with Lucky's theory. "Yeah, probably."
"I'm sure the Belchers were either entertaining or being entertained on New Year's Day, so I guess in light of the holiday, Sage hasn't had a chance to talk to Dr. Belcher. Still, you'd think she could call and tell us that much."
"I'm sure she has her reasons," Harlan said lamely.
"Who the hell knows what goes on in a woman's mind? Ouch, Devon, that hurt!" he exclaimed. Harlan heard him speak softly, "I thought you were asleep." After a pause, he spoke into the receiver again. "Come on home to bed, Harlan."
"I won't be much longer."
"See you in the morning."
Harlan hung up, feeling bereft and jealous of his friend for having a bed partner he could curl up with and go back to sleep. Harlan not only didn't have a partner, he really didn't have a bed, unless one counted the lumpy, narrow bed in the trailer.
The bed he was sleeping in was borrowed. When he was in it at night, he couldn't sleep for thinking about the woman who had slept in it prior to him.
"What's she doing tonight?" he wondered out loud as he picked up a small screwdriver and began tinkering again.
He had worked on the prototype almost around the clock. He never minded hard work, but he was especially glad he had this challenging project to occupy his mind and keep it off Sage.
She had guts, that lady. She had showed the stuff she was made of when Chase and Lucky suggested that she contact Travis's father as a potential source of financing. Placed in that kind of compromising position, any other woman might have fainted. Or burst into tears. Or begun stammering explanations.
Sage had foundered for only a heartbeat or two before smiling brightly and saying, "That's a great idea!"
&
nbsp; Harlan had watched and listened with disbelief. She was indefatigable. At the risk of letting her brothers down, she perpetuated her original lie.
One had to admire her tenacity and unselfishness. Because she wasn't lying now to save her own skin. In fact, just the opposite. No matter how much pride she had to swallow, she would go see Dr. Belcher for her brothers' sake.
She had maintained the pretense all through dinner, babbling on about how much influence Belcher wielded and how certain she was that he would be the solution to their problem.
"I know he's invested in other ventures and has been very successful," she had told them over homemade enchiladas. By the time they'd got to the orange sherbet and Oreos, she was saying, "I'll leave first thing in the morning."
That's when she had looked him straight in the eye, something she had avoided doing up to that point. Her eyes dared him to expose her. He wouldn't, of course. This was her gig. She had to play her part as she saw fit without any direction from him.
"Excuse me now," she had said, leaving the table. "I'll go upstairs and pack." Her voice was high and light, her eyes unnaturally bright, but he seemed to be the only one who noticed.
He'd sat there mute, dipping his spoon into melting orange sherbet, and watched her climb the stairs, knowing that going to Houston and having to face the father of the man who had jilted her would be the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. He doubted he would have the courage to do something like that.
Sage did. She was the damnedest woman he'd ever met.
By the time he came downstairs the following morning, Laurie informed him that Sage was already on her way. "I hate for her to be driving on a holiday weekend, but I couldn't talk her into postponing her trip. She's so headstrong."
That was an understatement. Sage Tyler was about the stubbornest individual he'd ever come across, inordinately obstinate and proud and courageous. She was also the most desirable woman he'd ever had any contact with, and there had been no small number of them.
From that mane of blond hair to the tips of her toes, Sage Tyler was sixty-some-odd inches of fascinating female. He liked the way she tossed her head with impertinence and the way she tapped her foot with impatience. He liked her sauciness. He admired her spunk. And he positively loved the way she kissed.
She was a compact package of vibrant femininity.
The sad thing was, he didn't think Sage knew just how feminine and desirable she was. She had been so busy proving that she was as important to the family as her brothers, that she hadn't realized no one except her doubted it. She saw her femininity as a weakness, not a strength.
It wasn't going to be easy to convince her of the contrary either. Anything Laurie said, Sage dismissed as the words of a loving mother, blinded by bias. She thought she was merely tolerated and patronized by her brothers.
What she needed to convince her of her value was the right man.
"And you ain't him," he said, jabbing the screwdriver to emphasize each grammatically incorrect word. "So put that thought right out of your head."
When he kissed her, he could tell instinctively that the power of her passion was unknown to her. Once she made up her mind to kiss, she poured her all into it. Her mouth became the soft core of her world. If that were true of a kiss, Lord only knew what it would be like to—
He snapped his wandering thoughts away from treacherous territory.
The strength of her sensuality had probably scared off a lot of men because it posed a threat to their masculinity. Belcher, no doubt, was among them. But some lucky man would eventually acknowledge it, welcome it, and seize it. He would be a charmed sonofabitch. He would spend the rest of his life satisfying the hungry lioness he had unleashed.
In the course of the last few minutes, Harlan's jeans had grown uncomfortably tight. Just thinking about Sage prompted a physical response. That had to stop. Twice he'd come close to showing her what she was capable of, and where had it got him? She hated him.
He couldn't afford that. Not if she was going to be working with him at Tyler Drilling. He knew the Tylers. They liked him and believed in his ideas, but if it came down to a choice between Sage and him, he would be out in no time flat.
Of course, leaving at some point in the future was inevitable. He never stayed anywhere long. But he always liked to finish what he'd started before moving on. He had never walked out on a project, except one time when he'd discovered the man he was working for was a gangster.
Sage Tyler, with her fiery temper, tempting body and cream-center mouth, posed a far more serious danger than that temporary alliance with the mob. He'd do well to stay the hell away from her.
But as he tinkered with the insides of the machine, his thoughts kept drifting back to her. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, and if she felt as lonely as he.
* * *
"This was a hell of an idea," Pat grumbled as he nudged Laurie forward. They were standing in the breakfast line at Milton Point's new McDonald's restaurant, waiting to place their order. "I feel like a damn fool, Laurie."
"Why should you?"
"Because I've never eaten a breakfast wrapped in paper with a goofus clown printed all over it."
"I explained the reason I wanted to meet here," she whispered over her shoulder. "You've been out to the house for breakfast every morning this week."
"So?"
"Two Egg McMuffins, two orange juices, two coffees," she told the smiling hostess. Then to Pat she said, "I'm afraid the children are going to think you're sneaking in to spend the night with me."
"Which isn't a bad idea."
She shot him a withering glance over her shoulder, then moved aside so he could get their tray. They found a vacant table near the windows. Highway traffic sped past. Pat squeezed himself between the bright orange banquette and the small table. Muttering swear words beneath his breath, he removed his Stetson and placed it on the padded seat beside him.
"You're acting like a big baby."
"Babies don't get horny," he mumbled around the first bite of his sandwich.
Laurie blushed and tried to look annoyed. "Watch your language in front of me, Pat Bush. I swear, I don't know what to make of you lately. You've been so ornery."
"I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of having to beg. New Year's is over. What's your next deadline, Easter? Memorial Day?"
Into his argument, he leaned across the table. "Listen, Laurie, it's not like we don't know each other. It's not like you doubt I love you. I've loved you for almost forty years. If Bud had lived, I'd have gone on loving you in my own silent way.
"Even after he died, I bided my time. I didn't want to offend you or have you thinking I was trying to take advantage of your loneliness. The day Lucky's baby was born and I kissed you in the hospital corridor, well, that was about the happiest day of my life.
"But stealing a few kisses now and then isn't enough. Sitting beside you in church, having meals at your house, and escorting you to this and that doesn't cut it anymore. Neither one of us is getting any younger." She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head sternly and continued.
"I don't want to waste any more time. I want us to live together. I want to see you naked. I want to make love to you."
"Shh, Pat! People will hear you."
"Let 'em. I don't give a damn. I want you, Laurie. All of you. All the time. Through my entire adult life, I've had to share you with my best friend, and your children, and everybody else you take under your wing. Well, dammit, I'm feeling real selfish all of a sudden. I want to be the center of your attention, or I don't want your attention a'tall."
After a moment of combative staring, she said, "That was some speech."
He gnawed off a bite of his cold and nearly forgotten sandwich. "That's how I feel."
"So now I know."
"So now you know."
She pinched a crumb off her biscuit and rolled it between her fingers. "Pat?"
"What?" he asked crossly.
"I was just wonde
ring."
"What?"
She looked up at him through her lashes. "Is your bed large enough for the two of us?"
* * *
Sage hummed in tune with the radio as she approached the Milton Point city limits. It was a cold morning. A raw north wind was blowing, but the skies were clear.
Her mood was just as sunny.
She passed the town's new McDonald's restaurant and considered stopping for breakfast, but decided against it. She was so eager to tell her brothers her good news, she would go straight to the office. After hearing what she had to report, they would probably want to take her out for an elaborate, celebration lunch.
Long before dawn she had checked out of the budget motel where she'd been staying the last few days—including New Year's Eve and New Year's Day—and headed north. Luckily she had beaten Houston's rush hour traffic and had made good time. Devon's car, which she had borrowed since hers was still in Austin, was newer than hers and much sleeker. The miles had ticked by.
Or maybe time had only seemed to fly because her spirits were soaring. Her meeting with Dr. Belcher couldn't have gone better. He'd been surprised, no shocked, to hear from her when she finally worked up enough nerve to phone his office. She had asked to speak to him personally about a nonmedical matter. He had expressed reservations, but had finally agreed to an appointment yesterday afternoon.
It had gone splendidly.
Still on the outskirts of town, she exited the major highway and jounced along the rough road that led to Tyler Drilling. Both Lucky and Chase's vehicles were parked in front of the building, signaling that they were already there. She checked her hair and makeup in the visor mirror before hopping out of the car and heading for the door.
The mood inside the office was sepulchral. Lucky was desultorily tossing a baseball toward the ceiling and catching it. Chase was contemplating the contents of his coffee cup. They raised grim faces to her when she came bouncing in, smiling and rosy-cheeked.