by Francis Ray
“That’s the way Brandon and his financial adviser like it,” Pierce said easily. A frown touched Sabra’s brow. “You worried about Isabella?”
“No.” She smiled. “I guess I’m still having a hard time seeing you as a number cruncher.”
Pierce frowned. “I’m not sure I like that term.”
“So noted.” Sabra moved up and greeted the smiling hostess. “A table for two please.”
“Hello, Pierce, miss,” Janice, the hostess, greeted them, and picked up two menus. “Table or booth?”
“Booth,” Sabra told her.
Janice’s uncertain gaze flicked to Pierce. “The first available,” he quickly said.
“Of course. This way please.”
Close call, Pierce thought as they followed. Until Janice asked about the seating arrangements, he hadn’t thought of the significance or the potential problem. The family table was for family. Their friends and associates understood that. Sierra had invited Sabra to keep herself out of hot water with her family. They didn’t bring dates to the family table. The three brothers who had, had married the women.
“You all right?” Sabra slid into the booth and placed her vintage handbag on the seat beside her.
“Never better.” Pierce took the menu Janice patiently held and took his seat across from Sabra. It was difficult to believe that a woman he’d only kissed once was causing him such problems.
Sabra placed the menu on the table. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He laid his menu aside, a twinkle in his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I’d say it depends, but what the heck.” She braced her arms on the table. “Go for it.”
He leaned closer. “You think I’ll get a chance to see you in the white outfit again before you leave?”
She laughed, a rich, dark sound. “Not if I can help it. It took a good fifteen minutes to pull on those jeans.”
Pierce thought of taking them off, sliding the denim fabric down her long legs, revealing inch by incredible inch, his mouth following. The smile on her face faded. Her breathing accelerated.
“Welcome back, Sabra.”
Sabra jumped, blushed, then lowered her gaze. Pierce muttered under his breath. Brandon looked from one to the other. “Sorry. I’ll come back later.”
“His timing is usually better,” Pierce said.
Sabra lifted her head, a rueful smile on her tempting lips he desperately wanted to kiss again. “I should have handled that better myself.”
“I like knowing I get to you as much you get to me,” Pierce said. “Would it sound egocentric if I admitted I’m glad you didn’t?”
“No.”
“Good.” Perhaps if she’d stop running from him, he’d have a chance. He picked up the menu he didn’t need. “What do you feel like today?”
“For starters, the triple platter for the appetizer, chicken fajitas, and double-chocolate cake for dessert.” She placed the menu aside. “I didn’t eat breakfast.”
Marlive, the waitress, came to their table and took their orders, returning quickly with their iced raspberry teas. “Pierce, the food will be out in a jiffy.”
Sabra placed her straw in her tea, a smile on her lips. “Having a brother who owns a restaurant has its advantages.”
“True, but they began even before he opened the Red Cactus,” Pierce told her. “We all had chores growing up. Brandon didn’t mind cooking or cleaning up afterwards. He didn’t want us ruining one of his precious pans. How about you and your sister?”
“We’re complete opposites.” Sabra dunked her straw in the glass. “She’s quiet, reserved, until she picks up a violin and magic happens. She’s on a solo tour in Europe. Since Daddy’s gone, Mother is with her.”
“What about you?” Pierce asked, seeing the sadness in her eyes.
“Me?”
He reached across the table and tenderly covered her hand with his. “Who is there for you?”
“I’m the oldest. Laurel needed her more,” she said simply.
Pierce’s hand tightened. Inexplicably, he wished he could have been there for her. “Age doesn’t matter. Losing a person you love hurts to the core. Mama still gets a look in her eye sometimes that makes me wish I could have known the man able to inspire such devotion years after he was gone.”
“Daddy called us his ladies,” Sabra said slowly. “He would have done anything to keep us safe and happy. Anything.”
“That’s what family is all about,” Pierce said. “You do what you have to. Nothing comes ahead of that.”
“Like you and your family?”
“Yes.” To Pierce, it was just that straightforward and that complex. Long ago he’d learned that he and his family were the lucky, blessed ones. “Here’s our food.”
The plates and platters filled the table. “The plates are hot. Anything else?”
“You must be kidding.” Sabra smiled up at the man. His mouth agape, he stared back.
“This is fine. Thanks again, Juan,” Pierce said, feeling sympathy for the young man who was unable to take his eyes off Sabra.
“What? Er, yes.” He finally tore his gaze away from Sabra. “Call if you need anything.”
“You have another conquest.” Pierce had intended his voice to be light and teasing. When Sabra’s hands paused briefly in reaching for her napkin, he knew he had failed.
“That bothers you?”
“It would be hypocritical to say yes when looking at you takes my breath away,” he told her. She so easily aroused him.
Her own breath caught. “Since this is a family restaurant, perhaps you shouldn’t look at me that way.” Her voice trembled, as her body had in his arms the night before.
“I’m not sure I can, but I’ll try.” He put his napkin in his lap and said grace, adding a prayer that he could keep it together. “Eat up. Brandon gets offended if his food isn’t eaten.”
“We can’t have that, especially when it’s so good.” She picked up a stuffed potato skin. “I’m going to miss all this good food when I leave.”
It was a subtle reminder that she wasn’t staying, that whatever there was between them wouldn’t go any further. Pierce had never been a man to give up. He had no intention of doing so now. “He has takeout.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, especially since I plan to hunker down and work on my next play. I’d like to be nearly finished when I leave, since I won’t have much time once I’m gone.” The taco shell crackled as she bit into it. “But first I have to read the scripts my agent sent me.”
“I don’t guess you have time for dinner tonight,” Pierce said casually.
“Thanks, but afraid not,” she said. “You know how it is.”
“I know you’re running in the opposite direction as fast as you can,” he said, his voice tightly controlled. “But it won’t do you any good.”
“Careful, Pierce, your ego is showing.”
He leaned across the table until barely a foot separated them. He saw the pulse hammer in her throat and wished he could put his lips there. Soon. “It won’t be my ego that gets you into my arms.”
Her mind searched for the answer. “What will?”
“I’ll let you figure it out.”
HANDLING MEN WAS WHAT SABRA DID BEST. SHE’D learned after the first hard knock. She’d had to to survive.
Certain men looked no further than the face and the body. They speculated how soon they could get her into bed or use her for their own benefit. Of course, there were men like her agent who looked deeper and cared about her. But, sadly, the former far outweighed the latter.
Then there was Pierce. An enigma.
Sabra, the forgotten script in her hand, leaned against the six-foot headboard on the wide bed and stared out the window to the dark night beyond. Pierce saw the body, but he also cared about the woman beneath. He pushed her to feel the desire that blazed in his beautiful eyes, but he wouldn’t push her into bed.
He’d leave that to her. He wanted her wi
lling and as hot as he would be. That was what he had meant.
Pages crumpled as her hands clenched. He’d planted the seed, and her imagination was doing the rest. The slow kisses, the pleasuring hands, falling into bed to kiss and tease until they were on the brink of exploding, and only then would he take her. Her body clenched, ached.
She groaned and shut her eyes. When she opened them, Isabella’s paws were on the ecru down comforter, her head tilted to one side as if trying to figure out if her mistress was all right.
“Don’t ever fall in love,” Sabra said, then gasped and backpedaled. She was attracted to him, but love? No way. He was just different, unique. This wasn’t love, just an intense attraction. Then the answer came to her, why the word had leaped into her mind. Throwing the “L” word into the mix would make her feel less guilty if they made love.
She had known from the first that Pierce would be trouble. She just hadn’t known how much.
PIERCE HAD LET SABRA HAVE THE SPACE SHE WANTED only because he knew his chance was coming Friday night. And not a moment too soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have stayed away. He missed her—which, for him, was unusual.
He’d had a couple of long-distance romances, but he’d never been this anxious to see a woman, nor had one intruded on his work. Sabra did both. More anxious than he’d ever recalled being, he rang her doorbell.
The door swung open. His breath snagged. He was infinitely grateful that he had a strong heart.
Sabra wore a white snug-fitting dress that nipped at her small waist and hugged her hips. Her long, wavy black hair flowed with wild abandon around her slim shoulders. He immediately envisioned it spread on his pillow, her body flush with desire. Despite the frown on her unforgettable face, he hungered for her.
“Would it be all right to say you look stunning?” The frown didn’t clear. “Pierce. I didn’t expect you.”
“I know. I told Mama I’d pick you up.” He glanced at his watch, an excuse to suck air into his starved lungs. “You ready?”
“I don’t mind taking a cab.”
“Why bother when I’m here?” She didn’t give an inch. But he was a patient man. Walking into the living area, he bent down when Isabella bounded to him. “You going or staying?” The dog barked with excitement.
“Staying. I shouldn’t be long.” Sabra folded her arms, pushing her high, firm breasts up over the décolletage. Pierce almost whimpered. “She’s used to the place now.”
“I’ll bring you back a snack.” He came upright and prayed she didn’t look below his waist. He knew the perfect way to get her moving and him some needed air. “I hate to rush you, but I thought, if we got there early, we might help Mama out if she needed anything.”
“Of course. I won’t be but a second.” Crossing the room, she slipped a DVD into the player. Road Runner raced across the screen. “Ready.”
Isabella glanced over her shoulder at the TV set, then trotted over.
Pierce chuckled. “I used to watch that crazy cartoon myself.”
“My assistant still does. That’s who got Isabella hooked.” Sabra picked up a purse no wider than her palm from the end of the sofa. “Behave. I’ll be back before the DVD runs out.”
In the hallway, Pierce asked, “How long is that?”
“Two and a half hours,” she answered.
“I promise to have you back by then.” He pressed the call button of the elevator. But there was also another promise he’d made himself. Before the night was over Sabra was going to be in his arms.
RUTH’S KITCHEN WAS FILLED WITH HER FIVE CHILdren, her three daughters-in-law, and the guest of honor. She couldn’t stop beaming. They all got along, teasing and playing, just as she’d known they would. Brandon, at his own choosing, was the only one preparing food. The rest were content to enjoy one another. Ruth was content to enjoy them until the doorbell rang.
“Shall I get it, Mama?” Sierra asked, one eye on the coconut-fried shrimp Brandon had just arranged on a large red platter.
“I’ll go.” Ruth sent Pierce and Sabra a casual glance, then pushed open the swinging doors and left the kitchen. Things were working out nicely.
“Brandon, can I help?” Sabra asked.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “At least someone is considerate.”
“I’m helping.” Sierra popped a battered fried shrimp into her mouth.
Brandon rolled his eyes, then picked up a wicked-looking knife and expertly sliced rolled tortilla sandwiches into pinwheels.
“I can cut those.” Sabra moved closer. She needed to do something. Standing so close to Pierce was making her nervous. “Or stir whatever is cooking.”
Sliding the pinwheel sandwiches onto the platter, Brandon picked up sprigs of parsley to garnish the tray. “Nacho dip. Thanks, I got it.”
“I don’t mind,” Sabra began.
Pierce’s long-fingered hand circled her bare upper forearm. Her skin tingled, warmed. “Brandon is very proprietary about his kitchen and his food.”
Not daring to look at Pierce, Sabra looked at the others for confirmation. They nodded.
“He gets testy,” Sierra admitted.
“Culinary geniuses do not get testy,” he said, and picked up the tray. “Touch anything while I’m gone at your own risk.”
“He was serious, wasn’t he?” Sabra stared after him.
“Afraid so.” Sierra studied the dessert tray. “I wonder if—”
“I would.” Brandon came back through the swinging door. “Everyone out, and don’t you dare touch anything until the guests have started.”
“Come on.” Luke, who had been leaning against the granite countertop with his wife beside him, slung his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s leave him alone.”
“He’ll mellow after Faith gets here,” Morgan said, holding Phoenix’s hand.
“Then I can eat to my heart’s content, because he won’t be paying any attention.”
Sierra eyed Sabra’s dress. “Carolina Herrera?”
“Yes.” Sabra did the same to Sierra’s paisley quilted Nehru-collar jacket, matching knit top, and taupe pants, then to the heeled beaded bronze rope thongs. “Donna Karan. They didn’t have the Manolos in my size.”
Sierra grinned. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“They’re talking clothes.” Brandon gave a delicate shudder. “Please take them away.”
“I’m on it.” Pierce took Sierra and Sabra by the arm. “Ladies, let’s leave him in peace and go circulate.”
“I’m for it, since he didn’t say I couldn’t eat,” Sabra said. “Didn’t I see smoked salmon?”
“Sabra, that’s about as low as you can go,” Sierra said.
Sabra picked up a sliver of salmon and placed it on a cracker. Munched. “I figure you’ll forgive me if I show you the pictures of the vintage handbags that arrived in the mail this morning.” Sabra delicately flicked a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “I do believe there was a Birkin.”
Sierra’s sharp intake of breath cut across the room at the mention of the Hermes bag with a five-year waiting list. She picked up the tray and handed it to Sabra. “Talk.”
Sabra chuckled. She liked Sierra and was glad they were becoming friends. “I’ll bring the photo to breakfast at nine in the morning. I already called and asked her to hold everything until noon tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there. I feel so good I think I’ll go pester Brandon some more.” Sierra went back into the kitchen.
“That was nice of you.”
“I thought it might appeal to her. She’s beautiful and exotic enough to carry off the oversized bag. She won’t let the bag wear her. Now, let’s circulate.”
Pierce’s hands reached for the tray. “I’ll take that.”
She moved it aside. “Why don’t I hold on to it a while longer?”
“Sure.” Besides clothes, she and Sierra shared a fondness for Brandon’s cooking.
With a winsome smile, Sabra moved to two nearby students by the
fireplace, serving them, chatting easily about the play, their studies, life. Pierce stayed by her side as more people arrived. She greeted each warmly, putting them at ease with her warm smile and genuine interest in them. She was down-to-earth and approachable. There wasn’t a diva bone in her beautiful body.
When the president and two members of the board of regents unrepentantly dropped by to thank Sabra for honoring St. John’s with her talent and time, Pierce dropped back to let his mother and Sabra do their thing. She was quick to point out that it was she who was honored. She praised his mother for her astute selection of the talented students.
“Except me,” a voice said softly.
Pierce turned to see the man who played Max, the male lead in the play. The student, Charles White, noticed Pierce and tucked his head, his hand clenched around a canned soft drink. Embarrassed, Pierce thought, then glanced back at Sabra. Vibrant and stunning, she was charming the men and women from the university. It would take a very self-assured man to handle a woman like that. Pierce was still learning. Casually, he went to the student.
“Hi. How’s it going?”
Charles brought his head up and looked around as if unsure he had been spoken to. “All right.”
“Breathtaking, isn’t she?” Pierce casually slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. “A man doesn’t know if he should worship her or beg for mercy.”
Charles’s eyes rounded. “But . . . but you’re a legend at the college. They still talk about the three dates you had in one day.”
And when his mother had found out, she’d given it to him with both barrels. It hadn’t mattered that all of the women had known about the others or that he was trying to decide which one he wanted to take to the frat party. Ruth had rightly known that he was just being cocky. Nothing like an irate mother and a disapproving big brother he looked up to to correct the errors of his ways . . . at least in that.
“I bet you wouldn’t get nervous doing the scenes,” Charles went on to say.
“You’re wrong.” Pierce didn’t even have to think. “When I first saw her, my brain fogged. I’m not sure it has cleared yet.”
Charles faced Pierce, studied his face. “You’re joking, right?”
