by Francis Ray
“That’s the plan.” He lifted the basket. “Brandon prepared it just for you. How about it?”
“If you’ll tell me why you wanted me to think you had a date.”
He stepped closer. “To see if it mattered.”
She was on shaky ground, had been since she met him. “A friend wouldn’t care.”
His sexy mouth hovered inches from hers. “Depends on how close of a friend.”
Heat zipped through her. “Pierce, I don’t want to have an affair with you.”
“That’s not what your face, your eyes, the hitch in your breath, are telling me.”
“We said we’d just be friends.”
His hand tenderly brushed the tumbling mass of her hair from her face. “You said.”
She opened her mouth to disagree, then closed it. He was right. Like now, this afternoon at the restaurant he hadn’t agreed; he’d changed the subject. “Is that the way you get around people? By being devious?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure I like your choice of words.”
“If the shoe fits.” She held out her hand. “Isabella’s leash.”
“You don’t want to go to the outdoor concert?” The tips of his fingers stroked her cheek. It was all she could do not to shiver.
“Not if you’re going to try and seduce me,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm when what she really wanted to do was lean into him and let her tongue glide over his seductive mouth.
“Even though?”
Her hand remained steady. Emotions were her stock-in-trade. She could do this. “Even though.”
He studied her for a long time, then closed his hand over hers. “I’ll try it your way, but I’m not promising anything.”
Sabra’s breath trembled out over her lips. “I can’t be the first woman who’s said no.”
He opened his door and pulled her through. Isabella trailed after them. “No, but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a woman as much as I want you.”
Sabra couldn’t think of anything to say. She certainly couldn’t tell him she felt the same way about him.
THE NIGHT WAS BEAUTIFUL, THE AIR CRISP AND clean, bringing with it a hint of pine and sage. Pierce’s SUV easily maneuvered the winding road up the mountain.
“It certainly is dark up here,” Sabra said, glancing around.
“I know these roads. Luke and Catherine’s cabin is further up the mountain. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not. Just making an observation.” Sabra pulled her leg under her. “There’s always light and people milling on and around Broadway.”
“You miss it?” Pierce turned off the road.
“The convenience, I guess.” She chuckled. “There’s always a restaurant or a little club open into the wee hours in the morning.”
“You won’t find that here, but Santa Fe has other appeals,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of seduction.
Sabra glanced at him. “Pierce, remember you said you’d try.”
“I am. I’ll let you know when I’m not.” He pulled into a paved semicircle. A security light was stationed at the end of each arc to light the area, but not glaring enough to reach the interiors of the cars parked at the steel guardrail.
“Looks like others had the same idea you did.” Sabra drew her leg from beneath her and sat up.
“Not exactly.” Pierce swung the vehicle around and backed in between a truck and a late-model sedan.
Sabra looked at Pierce, then back at the cars; a frown puckered her brow, then cleared. The couples inside both vehicles were embracing. “I don’t guess they came for the music.”
“That would be my opinion. Grab Isabella. I’m going to let the back down.” He opened his door.
“Maybe we should go.” Sabra reached for Isabella’s collar. “I don’t want to disturb them.”
“Outside of an atomic bomb, I don’t think anything will.” Outside, Pierce let the tailgate down and pulled the blanket from over the basket. “Come on.”
Sabra joined Pierce. Her lips twitched. Beside the extra blanket there was an emergency kit, a firstaid kit, and a gas can. “I still can’t believe all the stuff you keep in the back of your car or how neat it is.”
Pierce brushed a finger down her nose. “Sudden snowstorms and rain showers happen. So do flat tires and other emergencies. I plan to be ready.” He spread the basket out over the tailgate and held out his hand. “After you.”
Sabra didn’t hesitate. She sat and her legs hung over the end of the tailgate. Pierce sat beside her. Isabella sniffed at the basket, then barked. “You’ve already eaten, but if you’re good I might have an extra sandwich.”
Isabella barked, then sat back on her haunches. Sabra glanced from the dog to Pierce. “If you ever want a second profession, you certainly qualify.”
“This one is enough.” Opening the basket, he placed a cup carrier, chips, and a container of fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies between them. “Turkey and ham or roast beef?”
“Turkey and ham.”
He handed her the three-inch sandwich filled with meat and vegetables. “Here you go. The musicians are warming up. The concert should start soon.”
Sabra stopped unwrapping her sandwich and turned her head in the direction of the theater below. “I don’t hear anything.”
“You will.” Pierce opened their bottles of water. “How did rehearsals go today?”
“Better,” Sabra answered, her head tilted.
“You won’t be able to hear it,” Pierce said easily, and bit into his sandwich.
She straightened. “I have excellent hearing. If you can, then I should be able to.”
“Part of the gene pool I was telling you about.” Pierce guzzled his water.
She stared at him thoughtfully. “You’re not joking.”
He grinned. “Would I lie to you?”
“Not directly,” she said.
“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment and a no.” He nodded toward her sandwich. “I’d advise you to eat up. Isabella is staring at your sandwich.”
Sabra glanced up and almost bumped noses with the dog. She held the sandwich away and took a bite. “What other things can you do?”
Pierce looked at her mouth; then his heated gaze lifted to hers. “I’ll show you one day.”
Unleashed desire zipped through her. Her body burned. Her imagination, always active, went wild. His hot mouth on her, the curve of her neck, the slope of her breasts. “Pierce.”
“You asked.” He drained his bottle of water. “Finish up. If we can’t neck, we can at least sit close. Friends certainly do that.”
Sabra automatically ate, not tasting the food, wondering how Pierce would taste. After a few minutes, she gave up pretending and offered over half the sandwich to Isabella. She didn’t give Sabra a chance to change her mind. It was gone in one gulp.
Pierce handed her a wet nap. Thanking him, she cleansed her hands and tried to concentrate on keeping her mind off Pierce. With him so close, it was impossible. She almost sagged in relief when she heard the stirring strands of Mozart.
The haunting music soothed and soared. They sat side by side, their bodies touching, listening. When he linked his fingers with hers, it felt right and natural. It was as if she could see the star-crossed lovers, their desperation, their hopelessness. She wasn’t aware of the tears on her cheeks.
“Sabra.”
“Love shouldn’t hurt.”
His thumb gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
Sabra jerked up and scooted off the tailgate. “I’d like to go back now.”
“Is he the reason you won’t let yourself trust me?”
“You don’t have a right to ask that question.” Sabra went to the passenger side of the car and got in.
Pierce put things away, then climbed back into the driver’s seat. She could feel his gaze on her. She refused to meet it. “Please. I have some calls to make.”
The motor started and he pulled off. Silence reigned on
the drive back and continued during the short ride on the elevator and the walk to her door. Thankfully, for once she found her key. The lock clicked. She shoved the door open and turned, her gaze centering on his chest. “Thank—”
“Don’t,” he cut her off.
Her head snapped up. She stared into Pierce’s angry eyes. “Don’t brush me off. Don’t compare me with the man you can’t forget. Don’t make his sins mine. You’re smarter than that.”
Her chin lifted. “You have no right to talk to me that way.”
“This gives me the right.” He pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing down on hers. There was no time to react, to evade. As his lips warmed and seduced, she didn’t want to. Her arms went around his neck, clinging. He ravaged her mouth and she whimpered in pleasure. Need became a throbbing ache that made her press closer.
Then his mouth was gone. She almost cried out at the loss. The tip of her tongue traced across her upper lip in search of his taste. “Open your eyes.”
The brusque command snapped her out of her sensual haze. Anger and desire shimmered in his piercing gaze. “I don’t do stand-ins.”
Anger came hot and heavy. No man had ever made her body want his like this or emptied her mind with a simple kiss. “Take your hand off me.”
His hand on her arm flexed. “I can make you want me.”
That he could angered her more. If he kissed her again she’d be lost. “Shuler thinks the same way about women.”
Shock and revulsion swept across Pierce’s face. His hand dropped.
The instant the words were out, she wanted to recall them. It wasn’t worth the look of self-loathing on Pierce’s face. Her hand lifted. He stepped back. “I’m sorry. You won’t be bothered with me again.”
Sabra closed her eyes when he entered his apartment. Isabella whined, looking from her to Pierce’s door. “I hurt him.” Turning, she went inside. She dropped into the first chair she reached. No matter how she tried to rationalize her behavior, she couldn’t. Sure, Pierce was pushing, but moments before she had been curled around him like wet noodles.
She had what she wanted. Pierce was out of her life. She just wished the price hadn’t been so high.
SABRA SLEPT POORLY. SINCE SHE WAS UP AT SIX, SHE called Joy. “Please tell me you have a place for Isabella.”
“Finding a place isn’t the problem. It’s Isabella.”
Sabra shoved her hand through her hair. “She might not have a choice.”
“What happened to the man next door?” her assistant asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why can’t—”
“He’s not an option,” Sabra cut her assistant off, then got up to pace.
“I see.”
She probably did. “Fax me a list and I’ll get a cab. Surely there is one place she’ll like.”
“She’s stubborn—like another person I know.”
“I love you, too,” Sabra said. “Any more on the financial consultant?”
“I’ll fax you that list as well. How do you plan to handle it?”
Sabra sat on the bed. “I guess as a potential client. That would give me reason to ask about their background.”
“Do you really think he’s going to admit to having lost that kind of money?”
“Not without prodding. I’ll ask for references that go back nine years. Maybe I’ll get lucky.”
“We certainly could use a break. One more thing, the charity auction in LA is the day after you finish there. I have you flying out of Albuquerque on that Sunday at ten in the morning. The auction is that night. Your clothes and I will meet you at the Wilshire. Isabella and I will stuff ourselves on room service while you’re gone.”
And she wouldn’t see Pierce again. Loneliness hit her.
“Sabra?”
She shook her head. It was for the best. “Good job as usual. I guess I’ll go wrestle Isabella into the shower so she’ll be presentable.”
“You might want to pull out all the stops as well, in case Isabella acts up. You look wicked in the white Yves Saint Laurent.”
Sabra tsked. “So that’s why you packed the outfit. It takes me fifteen minutes to get the jeans on.”
“Think of it as being for the greater good of the project.” Joy chuckled.
“All I can think about is taking my next breath and step.” She glanced at Isabella, who was looking up at her. “The things I do for you.”
Isabella barked.
“Bye, Joy. Time to go into battle.” Standing, Sabra hung up the phone and reached for Isabella’s collar.
PIERCE SLEPT IN FITS AND SPURTS. HE COULDN’T remember a more miserable night. And he had himself to blame. He jerked his silk tie straight and reached for his pants. Sabra had warned him up front that all she wanted was friendship. He and his ego had thought they could change her mind.
Big mistake.
He snatched his suit jacket from the wooden hanger and shoved his arms into the sleeves. Probably the second biggest mistake of his life. The look in her eyes would haunt him for a long time, if not a lifetime.
Shuler thinks the same way about women.
Pierce had crossed the line, and he’d paid for it in the aching of his body and the knowledge of what might have been. Grabbing his keys, he shoved them into his pocket and strode to the front door and almost ran into the woman who had kept him awake.
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened, closed.
He was having the same problem. She looked like a wicked angel. All in crisp white that fit her lush body snugly and made a man’s mind wonder about the smooth skin beneath.
Isabella barked excitedly. Pierce thought nothing could make him feel worse, but when Sabra stepped back, pulling Isabella with her, he discovered he’d been wrong. The apology that he had thought of giving wouldn’t come.
“Good morning. Excuse me.” She walked away, pulling on Isabella’s leash as the dog looked back at Pierce.
He stayed where he was and tried to get his brain working. White denim cupped Sabra’s hips and caressed long, shapely legs as she sauntered down the hallway on killer heels. He crazily thought that she should wear a sign that read: “Dangerous.”
Her jasmine scent trailed in her wake and gave him another punch to his gut. There was no way he was going to get in the elevator with her. A grown man shouldn’t beg.
Taking one breath, then another, he went to the bank of elevators, making sure he didn’t get in the one Sabra had entered. He could have slapped himself when he thought back and realized he hadn’t spoken. Sabra probably thought he was still upset and that she was right with her prediction that if things went sour it would end nastily.
He was going to prove her wrong. The next time he saw her, he’d be cool no matter how much it galled him that she was punishing him for what another man did. Pierce wasn’t sure what he wanted more: to get his hands on Sabra or the man who had hurt her.
SABRA TOOK A BREATH, THEN ANOTHER AS THE ELEvator descended. She had been thinking about Pierce so much that for a moment she thought he wasn’t real—until their bodies brushed against each other. The spark that shimmered through her was real, the longing intense. She’d almost apologized until she’d seen his calm, cool eyes. He hadn’t even spoken. That hurt. She’d hoped that they might stay friends.
The elevator door opened and she stepped out. Requesting a cab from the concierge, she waited at the curb. Isabella pulled on the leash and began to bark. Looking around, Sabra saw Pierce. Sunlight glinted off his midnight black hair, framed his angelically beautiful face. Her knees actually shook.
“Cab, miss?”
Her head whipped back around. A thin-faced man stood with the back door open. Saved. “Thank you.” She scrambled to get in with Isabella and gave the man the list when he asked for an address. “We’ll work our way down. I’d like for you to wait and bring me back here.”
He looked at the ten addresses on the list and whistled. “You got it.”
The cab pulled off. Sabra told hersel
f not to look back. She held out until the cab turned the corner. Pierce remained at the condo building entrance, staring at the cab.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“WHAT HAPPENED?”
Instead of answering Sierra, Pierce pulled out a chair at their favorite table. He’d debated about coming to the restaurant, then decided putting it off would give more merit to the situation than it deserved.
“Coffee, Pierce?” asked the olive-skinned waiter, a stainless coffeepot poised in his right hand.
Pierce needed a gallon, but a cup was a good start. “Yes, please, Carlos, and the usual.”
“Right away.” The lean young man straightened. “Your breakfast is almost ready, Sierra.”
“Thanks, Carlos.” Sierra glanced at the waiter, then at her brother as he picked up his cup.
“Talk.”
Pierce continued to drink his coffee. “You know you don’t always have to be the Little General.”
“What did she do to you?”
That brought Pierce’s head up. The cup clattered in the saucer. “You’re putting too much importance on this.”
“Then why do you look like the stock market took a nosedive?”
Pierce winced. “Bite your tongue.”
Sierra braced her arms on the table. “You two have a fight about what happened yesterday morning?”
The reminder made Pierce’s lips tighten.
“Pierce, we told you to leave it alone,” Sierra said, exasperation in her tone.
Pierce picked up his cup instead of clenching his fist. “I thought you’d be happy that she and I are not seeing each other.”
“Your breakfast.” The waiter served them both, then withdrew.
Sierra didn’t even look at her eggs ranchero. “If you weren’t wearing that hangdog expression, I would be. Talk.”
Pierce said grace and picked up his fork. “I’d rather not.”
She studied him a long time, then leaned closer. “Was it about se—”
“Sierra.” Pierce snapped out her name. “We aren’t discussing it.”
