by Silver James
“I called,” she hiccuped. “That night. You didn’t answer. I kept calling.”
“Glitch in the system. I didn’t know you’d called, sweetheart. None of the times. And I was busy and didn’t think to call you.” He kissed her forehead. “Congrats on making the top twenty, kitten. Sorry I wasn’t there to celebrate with you.”
She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve before taking a very deep breath. Twisting her head, she glanced at the pile of glossy papers on the coffee table. “What’s going to happen?”
“Nothing. Tucker is doing damage control in the media, and I’ve already discussed the situation with my family.”
“Uh-huh.” She stiffened slightly. “I... Who...”
“She’s a model, Sav. Diane Brandenburg. She was there on the island for a photo shoot. We weren’t together together. Just casually at that cocktail party.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He didn’t hesitate to answer, even though he’d considered inviting Di back to his room. Doing so would have created more trouble than any pleasure he might have gotten. That was what he’d told himself, anyway, because the alternative—that he wanted to be only with Savannah—was too big to contemplate. While Di was all sleek and built for fast sex, Savannah was curvy and comfortable. Running his hand along her side and hip, stroking down her thigh and back up, was soothing. And sweet. And felt like home.
Seventeen
Savannah awoke tangled in the blankets. After making love—several times—she and Chase had fallen into exhausted sleep, bodies pressed together, legs entwined, her head on his chest. From the position she found herself in upon opening her eyes, she figured neither of them had moved.
“Mornin’, kitten.”
“Howdy, hoss.” She smiled against his warm skin. “Want some coffee?”
“Can you make it from here?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Damn. You gonna let me kiss you before I brush my teeth?”
A giggle escaped her and her shoulders shook with repressed laughter. “Maybe your morning breath cancels out mine.”
“Let’s find out.”
Chase tightened his arms around her back and urged her higher in the bed. His mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. He tasted of sex and chocolate mints and she wondered if she could find a coffee flavor to match because that would be heaven to wake up to every morning. Not that she was addicted to coffee. Or to Chase.
He broke the kiss but didn’t let go. In fact, he nibbled along her jawline until he reached her ear. He sucked her lobe in before kissing the soft spot behind it. Then he trailed down her neck, along the crest of her shoulder before dipping to her breast, which had her moaning in the back of her throat and arching into him.
“Want you, kitten.”
He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he rolled her onto her back. While he laved her breasts, his hand smoothed down her belly and cupped her. “Spread, darlin’.”
She shifted her legs and his fingers dipped into her heat. Arching her hips, she sought his touch. Shivering in anticipation, she concentrated on breathing and absorbing the absolute pleasure of their lovemaking.
“Please,” she gasped, wanting him—all of him—inside her.
He obliged, shifting his weight to rest between her legs, teasing her for a moment before sinking in. Their sighs of completion echoing one another, they lay still as if stunned by the enormity of their feelings—both physical and emotional. Then he moved, slowly lifting his hips as he slid out before gliding in deep. She hooked her heels around his waist and hung on as his tempo increased. He might be on top but she could still ride him, and she did. When they tumbled over the edge, they did it together, the circle complete.
* * *
The next week passed in similar fashion. They made love upon awakening, sharing coffee and breakfast before another round of sexy times in the shower. Then they braved the outdoors. They went sightseeing. They went horseback riding. Chase discovered he enjoyed the horses. The ranch had always been his home, but he’d never been one for the great outdoors and all the activities that went on there. Cord, Chance and Cash had done the whole hunting, fishing and riding thing. Clay was the scholar and was almost ten years older. While he’d wanted to emulate his oldest brother, Chase didn’t hang around Clay much. He’d retreated into books—adventures and tales of derring-do.
Now, atop a horse, surrounded by the Rocky Mountains, and in the company of a beautiful woman, he believed he’d come into his own. Tucker had ridden hard on him, reminding him that if Savvie had to be monogamous during the term of the contract, he should, too. He didn’t want to admit that he had no desire to stray.
As they rode into a mountain meadow, Chase and Savvie startled a herd of elk. Reining their mounts to a stop, they watched as a magnificent bull elk threw back his head and trumpeted a challenge at their intrusion. Chase laughed, understanding the animal’s territorial stand. He’d felt the same when he first saw the picture of Savannah kissing that cowboy.
They skirted the meadow, found another trail and followed it, leaving the bull behind to protect his cows. A sense of contentment stole over Chase, and he urged Red closer to Cimarron so he could reach over and snag Savannah’s hand.
“This is nice.”
Her concerned expression softened as she smiled at him. “It is. Not sure I could live up here. It’s beautiful but...” She glanced around, then up, taking in the towering peaks. “I guess I’m an Oklahoma girl born and bred. The biggest mountains I want to spend time in are the Wichitas or the Arbuckles. I like the wide-open spaces.”
He squeezed her hand in agreement. “I’ve turned into a city boy, and I don’t go home much. Maybe I should. My granddad used to say that once you got red dirt on your hands, it soaked in and got in your blood, became such a part of you that you’d never be happy away from it.”
“Are you happy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Living in Las Vegas. Traveling like you do. I mean to Hollywood. Nashville. All those exotic places you go.”
They rode in silence as he contemplated her question. “I was. I love what I do, Savannah. Barron Entertainment is my red dirt. I’m good at running hotels, picking places to put them and watching them get built. I like dabbling in the true entertainment side—movies, and the new record company. Radio and TV. All of it.”
“Is this okay?”
He didn’t like the hesitation in her voice. “Is what okay?”
“This.” He still held her right hand so she dropped the reins in her left and used it to wave between them. “Us. You spending this time here with me instead of doing work stuff.”
Something warm spread through his chest. She was worried about him. He liked that. “Yes, kitten. This is very okay. Tuck is my second in command. He can deal with most situations. I’ve picked good people to work for me. And truthfully?” He leaned closer to make sure she was gazing into his eyes when he spoke again. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”
That was the truth. He didn’t just feel content, he felt complete when he was with Savannah. Was he falling in love with her? Was that a good thing or bad? How did she feel about him? He studied the expressions flickering across her face. He liked the one that settled in place.
“I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She squeezed his hand and murmured something that made his breath catch. He wasn’t positive, but it sounded like she’d added that she was falling in love with him. He inhaled, relaxed, tugged the hand he held to his mouth and kissed the back of it.
Happy, they rode in silence, turning by mutual agreement back toward the stables. This was the last day of their alone time. The rodeo started tomorrow, and Savannah would be focused on her events. Chase had several deals in the works and really needed to spend some
time going over paperwork and discussing things with his staff. He’d fit that in around watching Savannah compete. Something else he’d learned—he enjoyed the heck out of watching his wife do her thing. He’d had to pull some major strings to get tickets in a box where he could see all the action. Instructing Tucker to add a line item to the budget to become a major sponsor of next year’s Frontier Days would take care of that situation.
* * *
Two days later, the rodeo was in full swing. Savannah was in her element and having a blast. As good as her rodeo run was, her personal life was even better. The absolute craziest thing had happened. She’d fallen in love with a Barron—the biggest playboy in the Barron barn, in fact. And while she didn’t have much experience or a great track record with the men she had dated, she’d almost bet that Chase felt the same about her. He didn’t say the words but there was something about the way he looked at her, especially when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, the way he touched her, the way he made love to her at night. Despite her best intentions, Chase had captured her heart.
He’d sent her a text right before her first run of the day wishing her luck and complaining that business had come up that he needed to take care of. He apologized for missing her competition and promised to contact her as soon as he knew what was going on. She’d received a second text a couple hours later asking her to meet him for dinner before the rodeo concert that night. Chase’s cousin Deacon Tate and his Sons of Nashville band were the featured performers and Chase had gotten them fantastic seats. It always helped to have family connections.
She’d had a great day, once again coming out on top in the barrel racing. She was quickly working her way up the ranks of the top twenty riders on the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo list.
Now, showered, primped—she’d put on a filmy skirt and blouse—and ready for some fun, she was all but floating when she walked into the restaurant. The hostess beamed a huge smile her direction as she approached.
“Hi. I’m meeting—”
“Mr. Barron, right?” The girl cut her off. “He’s waiting for you in the lounge.”
“Oh! Thanks.” She returned the smile and headed in the direction the hostess pointed.
The bar was separate from the dining area, down a hallway decorated with Western art. Savannah could hear music, the clink of glasses and the clack of balls on a pool table. She stepped through the door and glanced around. The place was a fusion of roadhouse bar and upscale cocktail lounge. It shouldn’t have worked but it did.
The corners were shadowy, the tables and booths lit by candles in old-fashioned lanterns. She scanned the area, looking for Chase. He wasn’t sitting at any of the tables, and she was about to walk through and check each of the booths when two men standing at the bar moved aside. She caught sight of Chase’s profile and headed toward him. She was halfway there when the whole scene coalesced in her brain.
He wasn’t alone. A woman stood with him. Against him, actually, pressed between his spread thighs as he sat on a leather-seated bar stool. Her hands rested on his shoulders, and she was smiling. She wore a formfitting dress with no back, and Chase’s hand rested on her bare skin, his fingers inside the draped material.
The woman turned and looked right through Savannah, who recognized her. It was the model photographed with Chase in the Bahamas. Frozen to the spot, Savvie didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, could only watch as the beautiful model leaned closer and kissed Chase, as Chase tightened his arm around her back, his whole hand disappearing inside her dress. As he looked right at Savannah while he kissed Diane Brandenburg, his expression one of smug conceit.
Tears burned her eyes, muting the scene with blurry watercolors. Too bad she couldn’t dull the sharp pain in her chest, the sense of betrayal. She watched Chase move his head, whisper something to the model. Savvie stood there while the woman tossed her perfect blond hair over her shoulder so she could see Savannah. She saw that pair of eyes, so brilliantly blue she could tell the color in the half-light. She heard the low, throaty laugh that was both sexy and dismissive.
Chase didn’t move when the woman nibbled on his ear and whispered something back. He just watched, one corner of his mouth quirked. Sardonic. That was another word her English professor had used that Savannah had never known the true meaning of. Not until that moment.
The music from the jukebox stopped playing as the moment stretched out. Her phone rang. She ignored it, her brain still incapable of controlling her muscles. The woman moved, turning in Chase’s embrace. She slid an arm around his neck and cocked her hip to press against his groin. Her lips were curled in a cat-ate-the-canary smile that didn’t reach the ice blue of her eyes. A part of Savannah’s brain wondered how a woman could betray another woman like this. Then she understood. She was the interloper here. She was the one who didn’t belong.
The room had grown silent and nobody moved, as though the moment had been frozen in time, a photograph capturing a momentous occasion. Heart breaking, Savannah inhaled. She would not cry. She’d already shed too many tears over this man. No more. Straightening her shoulders and raising her chin, she pasted a proud smile on her face—a smile that cost her everything to manufacture and hold in place. All she had left was her dignity. She refused to give Chase the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.
She turned her back. Placed one foot in front of the other until she was out of the room. Until she was down the hallway and past all those people lined up to eat and laugh and have a good time. Until she was outside under the summer sky. Until she was safely inside her truck. Driving. Then inside the condo. Staring at the bed where she and Chase had made love less than twelve hours ago.
Savannah wouldn’t sleep in that bed. What if he’d brought that woman here? Had sex with her in that bed. She couldn’t bear it if she buried her face in the pillow she’d slept on last night and smelled someone else’s perfume. Her phone rang again.
This time her fingers worked and she retrieved it from her purse. It was Tucker. She should have turned the phone off but she didn’t. Obviously a glutton for punishment, she answered.
“Savvie, hi. I’ve been trying to reach you. Chase is stuck here in Vegas and still in the emergency meeting. He asked me to step out and call you.”
She didn’t say anything so he continued. “He’s sorry about missing Deke’s concert but says you should go without him. Deke wants to meet you and will be watching for you.”
She still didn’t speak.
“Sav? Are you there?”
“I can’t believe he’s got you doing his dirty work, Tucker.”
His voice turned cautious as he asked, “Sugar? Is everything all right? What’s going on?”
“I know what his business is, Tucker. I just saw him with that model. Di whatever-her-name-is. Tell him nice try, but I won’t be falling for his lies anymore. Tell him not to bother coming back here. I’ll keep my end of the bargain so long as he doesn’t contact me again.”
Savannah dropped the phone from her ear and tapped the end call button. Then she turned off her phone. No longer hungry, she wanted only to get numb. The ache in her chest made it hard to breathe. She wanted to get mad at Chase, but how could she be angry at him? She knew who and what he was. She should be furious with herself. She had let her guard down. She had let him worm his way into her bed and her heart. This was all her fault. She knew better but she did it, anyway.
“You, Savannah Wolfe, are an absolute, complete idiot.” Announcing it to the empty room didn’t help. There was a six-pack of beer in the fridge. Maybe if she drank all of them, she could take the edge off the pain. She and alcohol weren’t exactly friends, but maybe if she killed off enough bottles, she would stop missing him. Maybe fall asleep. Without dreams. Because dreams just messed up everything.
Eighteen
Chase was desperate to get back to
Cheyenne. He had no idea what Savannah thought she’d seen, but he had to get to her, talk to her, fix things. Tucker had talked to her at 7:30 p.m. It was now 2:00 a.m. and the plane was still twenty minutes from landing. He’d tried calling her cell and left so many voice mails that the last time he called, the message said her mailbox was full. He called the condo phone. It just rang.
He’d been stuck in a meeting of other casino managers, the Clark County district attorney, and a police task force that included the FBI, US Marshals Service and lawyers from the Justice Department to discuss a fraud ring working the casino. He’d walked out during a break, informing the authorities there was an emergency with his wife. Luckily, no one had tried to stop him, otherwise he’d be in jail for assaulting a federal officer.
Just after 3:00 a.m., he was pounding up the walkway to the condo’s front door. Savannah’s truck was parked in its spot. That was a plus. He put his key in the door. The first lock clicked and he pushed. Nothing budged. She’d thrown the dead bolt. Fine. His key fit both locks. In moments, he was inside.
The TV flickered on some infomercial and Savannah was curled up on the couch, huddled under a throw blanket. Why wasn’t she in bed? Gazing down at her, he noticed her thick eyelashes were matted and the skin around her eyes puffy. She’d been crying. Even in sleep her breath hitched. Kneeling beside her, he carefully moved her hair off her face so he could see her better in the low light.
Savannah erupted off the couch, pushing and shoving, reminding him of the first time they’d met. He gathered her close before she could get any momentum, and with a quick twist, settled on the couch with her in his lap, her legs trapped by one of his, her arms encircled by his. She squirmed and fought.
“Shh, kitten. Shh.”
“Get out.” She didn’t scream, which might have been better. Instead, her voice carried the cold disdain of a dead relationship.
