TEXAS! SAGE

by Sandra Brown

  Laurie frowned a silent but stern reprimand.

  "Look," Harlan said, pushing himself away from the wall, "I don't want to be the cause of a ruckus. I'll move my things back to the trailer tonight, so you can have your room back."

  "Don't do me any favors," she said tightly, her lips barely moving to form the words. "As Mother said, this house is only a stopover for me."

  "Is that right?" His drawl suggested that he knew better.

  "That's right," she retorted crisply. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I'm going to shower and go to bed." She struck off down the hallway, clumsily toting her suitcases, which she felt were about to pull her arms from their sockets. She stopped midway to the guest bedroom and turned back. "I do still have bathroom privileges, don't I?"

  "That's not funny, Sage," her mother said.

  "You're damn right it isn't."

  She disappeared into the guest bedroom and slammed the door behind her. Harlan whistled. "I sure as hell didn't mean to cause a family dispute. Sorry, Laurie."

  "Don't worry about it tonight. I'll smooth things out with her tomorrow."

  "If it would make things easier, I'm more than willing to move back into the trailer. Probably should have stayed there in the first place."

  "That won't be necessary," she assured him, patting his hand. "I'm delighted to have you here. You've given Chase and Lucky new hope for the business. In return, providing you with a room while you're here is the least I can do." She glanced down the hallway. "I apologize for Sage's rudeness. She's … well, she's rather high-strung."

  "Yeah, I noticed that." His grin cancelled any hint of rancor.

  "Good night, Harlan."

  "'Night."

  Harlan went into the bedroom formerly belonging to Sage Tyler. He felt badly about this. She'd been fun to tease, but he hadn't wanted to really hurt her feelings. Not after what had happened to her earlier in the evening. Strange. She seemed more upset over the room situation than she had been over her breakup with Belcher.

  "What a dumb sonofabitch," he said beneath his breath as he pulled off his cowboy boots, hopping on alternate feet while tugging them off.

  Sage didn't know it yet, Harlan thought, but she was well rid of Belcher. It might take her a while to realize it, but one of these days she was going to wake up to the fact that she'd been rescued from the maws of unhappiness.

  Sure, right now her pride was stung. Her self-esteem had taken a beating tonight. But deep down she was relieved. A smart woman like her had to know she'd been spared making a big mistake.

  Life with a dreary wimp like Belcher would make her miserable, Harlan reasoned. She had more spirit, more spunk, more vibrancy in the pad of her little finger than Belcher had in his whole pale body. She shivered with vitality from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. That mama's boy couldn't have satisfied her or made her happy in ten million years.

  Especially in bed.

  If Belcher had been satisfying her, giving her all her healthy young body craved and then some, she would have protested the breakup more strenuously. She would have cried and kicked and carried on something terrible. She hadn't. Not really. He'd seen women shed more tears over a broken fingernail than Sage had over Belcher.

  Getting cold feet might be something Belcher did routinely and she knew it would pass. She could think she had a surefire plan for winning him back … or perhaps in her heart she knew she wasn't missing much for having him out of her life.

  If the last were the case—and Harlan hoped it was—her sex life with Hot Lips couldn't have been all that great. She had taken it too well for good, satisfying sex to be lying on the sacrificial altar.

  Linking Sage Tyler and sex in Harlan's thoughts painted a provocative image in his mind, one which brought a smile to his lips. Damn. In bed, she would be as untamed as a lioness, all tawny and supple and savage.

  He sobered instantly.

  It wasn't right for him to be envisioning her sprawled across satin sheets as smooth as her skin, hair spread out behind her head, tangled and wild, like her nature.

  What the hell do you know about her nature? he asked himself derisively.

  A lot. Instinctively he knew that Sage's sensuality had never been tapped—a seductive thought he had no business entertaining. It was wrong. It was also downright dangerous.

  The Tylers had been good to him. They'd taken him under their collective wing. He had won their trust. But he knew they'd draw the line at him lusting after their sister. Hell, yes, they would. They wouldn't tolerate that. Nor should they.

  He couldn't shake his thoughts though.

  His heart had gone out to Sage when he watched her hugging the pillar and crying over that rich nerd. None of the photos of her that he'd seen around the house had prepared him for his first glimpse of her in the flesh. When she moved toward him, her long thighs encased in those leather pants, desire had slammed into his groin like a punch from a prize fighter. Ever since then, he'd been struggling to keep it under control.

  Reminded of his discomfort, he unsnapped his jeans and unbuttoned the top button of the fly. He shrugged off his vest and hung it in the spacious closet, then peeled off his shirt, balled it up, and tossed it into the wicker hamper Laurie had provided him. His socks followed the shirt.

  He flung back the covers of the bed and lay down, stacking his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. This was the position he usually assumed when he needed to think.

  Tonight his thoughts centered on Chase and Lucky's kid sister. He wasn't surprised that she was attractive. The two men were attractive, each in his own way. Laurie Tyler didn't look anywhere near her age and could turn the heads of men much younger. She sure had turned the sheriff inside out, Harlan mused, smiling at the thought of the moony-eyed gazes they exchanged when they thought no one was looking.

  So, he had it figured that Sage would be as good-looking as the rest of her family. What he hadn't expected was the impact she would have on him. Women were easy to come by. They were just as easy to leave behind when it came time to move on.

  This one wouldn't be easy to say good-bye to. Sage would be a bottomless bag of surprises that would be hard to give up. Her roller-coaster range of emotions had captivated his attention as it had never been captivated before.

  She had been so prissy when she caught him eavesdropping, he couldn't resist teasing her. She had been so sassy, he'd really had no choice except to kiss her smart mouth into silence. And the kiss had been so damn good, he'd wanted to carry her to bed and have her right then and there.

  Recollections of their kiss made his lower body even more uncomfortable, so he unbuttoned another button of his fly. He wasn't proud of this desire. He was ashamed of it. The Tylers trusted him and he would never betray their trust.

  On the other hand, they couldn't read his mind. And a man couldn't hang for what he was thinking. He'd been around Lucky and Chase long enough to know that each was madly in love and in lust with his wife. They were virile men who would understand desire.

  Still, it wouldn't be too smart to—

  His eyes sprang to the door when it suddenly flew open. Sage was silhouetted against the light in the hallway. It was difficult to take her militant expression seriously since she was wearing a bathrobe and her wet hair had been combed back from a recently scrubbed face.

  "I want my blanket."

  "Pardon?"

  He could neither sit up nor stand. Currently it was a physical impossibility. The only activity his body was primed to do was out of the question—he gauged by her expression that Sage wasn't there seeking romance—so he lay as he was.

  She marched into the room, not halting until she reached the foot of his bed. "My electric blanket," she said. "It's been mine since I can remember. I always sleep under it in the wintertime. I want it."

  "Don't you ever knock before you come barging into a man's bedroom?"

  "I was raised with two brothers. I'm used to seeing men in their skivvies."

 
"Loverboy, too?" he couldn't stop himself from asking. For one thing, he was honestly curious about her sex life with Belcher. For another, he wanted to provoke her. "Somehow I can't quite picture him in his drawers. Bet he's got knobby knees."

  She gave him a look that would have withered a dozen fresh roses in a matter of seconds. "Can I have my blanket, please?"

  Harlan cast his eyes down the length of his body toward his bare feet. When his gaze moved back up to her, he said, "Anything you see that you want, help yourself right to it, Miss Sage."

  She didn't like that. Not a bit. Her lips narrowed into a straight line of pique. She flung the bedspread to the floor and tugged on the electric blanket until it came free from its military fold between the mattresses. Turning on her bare heels, she stalked toward the open doorway, only to be brought up short when the electric cord ran out. She barely caught herself from falling backward and landing flat on the floor.

  "Unless you've got a mighty long extension cord, I reckon you'd better unplug it," he drolly observed.

  From where she stood, she yanked the cord from the wall socket. Gathering the blanket against her chest, she glared at him. "You might have buffaloed my whole family, but I'm not fooled. I'm onto you, mister. I don't trust you as far as I could throw you."

  "Now that's an interesting thought."

  Ignoring him, she continued. "It's amazing to me that my brothers, usually intelligent and intuitive men, have placed any confidence whatsoever in you, much less embraced you as one of the family.

  "And don't be flattered by my mother's kindness. She'd feel sorry for a rabid dog, and I consider you much more dangerous. Mother loves everybody unless they proved to be totally wretched, which I fully expect you to prove yourself to be any day now.

  "You're very good at your game, I'll hand you that. Even Pat's been fooled, and he can usually spot a con man a mile away. He's fallen for your act, too.

  "Well not me," she said, thumping her chest with a small fist. "You might have hoodwinked everyone else, but I've seen you at your worst. I've seen how you operate when you're not turning on the sickening, hokey, phony, good ol' boy charm.

  "It's my moral obligation to expose you as a fake and a fraud to my gullible family, and that's exactly what I'm going to do the first chance I get."

  "And get me out of your life at the same time," he said smoothly. "Won't that be convenient? Because I'm the only one who knows you re living a lie, right? That's the real reason you don't want me around. I make you nervous. You're afraid I'll let them in on our secret."

  Quivering with rage, she headed for the door again, this time reaching it successfully. Windowpanes rattled when she slammed it behind her.

  Harlan laughed. She had a hell of a temper when she got riled. Experience had taught him that when a woman's temper was hot, her other passions burned hot, too.

  At the thought, he groaned with pleasure and pain. "Oh, to hell with it."

  Rather than unbuttoning another button on his fly, he got up and pulled his jeans off altogether. While he was at it, he took off his underwear too. He straightened the bed linens, replaced the bedspread and climbed back in, assuming his original position, but pulling the covers up to his chest in case Miss Sage decided to make another unannounced entrance. Not that what he was sporting could be well hidden beneath the covers, he thought wryly, glancing toward his lap.

  She was wrong, of course. She wasn't onto him. Nobody was. Nobody had been for the fourteen years he'd been on his own. A few people might understand his reasons for drifting and living the way he did, but he never gave anybody a chance to form an opinion. He didn't discuss his former life with anyone. Knowing his background might change an individual's opinion of him. At the very least, it would color an opinion.

  He wanted to be accepted for what he was today. Now. He wanted to be appreciated for his sharp mind, and innovative ideas, and easygoing manner. He wanted to be judged on what stood in his size eleven boots and nothing more.

  He was at peace with the decision he'd made fourteen years ago, but few women would be, not with their natural nesting instincts. Especially not a woman like Sage whose roots went deep and to whom family meant everything. She would never understand his need to roam. Of course, he would never have a reason to ask her to understand his lifestyle. Hell, no.

  The sooner she was out of sight and out of mind, the better. Concentrating on the work at hand was going to be difficult, if not impossible, with her on the scene. Hopefully she wouldn't prolong her Christmas vacation. If luck were with him, she would leave as soon as the turkey leftovers ran out.

  But until she did, he was going to have one hell of a time keeping his head on straight, his eyes off her, and the fly of his pants feeling comfortable.

  * * *

  Sage woke up to the tantalizing aroma of cooking pork. She grinned into her pillow, feeling warm, snugly, and content in the knowledge that her mother was downstairs preparing biscuits and sausage gravy.

  Travis had called her favorite breakfast "country food" and made fun of it.

  The thought of Travis brought with it all the unpleasant memories of the night before. They crowded against her contentment and dispelled it.

  Her eyes came open. Hanging on the wall she was facing were familiar framed photographs— Sage as captain of the Milton Point High School cheerleading squad, Sage in cap and gown receiving her high school diploma, Sage in a similar photograph accepting her college degree from the dean of the business school at the University of Texas, Sage with her brothers and daddy in Yellowstone National Park, taken during the family vacation when she was seven. Beloved photographs.

  Wrong wallpaper. Wrong room.

  Then it really hadn't all been a bad dream. This wasn't her room. He was residing in her room, using her furniture, sleeping in her bed, wallowing in her sheets. That was the most disturbing thought of all.

  She had been eagerly looking forward to Christmas, the burden of school finally having been lifted. Then Travis had started whining about having to divide their time between his family and hers, and she'd had to make concessions to spending the entire holiday at home. He had his nerve, breaking their engagement after getting her to compromise on the time she would be able to spend with her family.

  He had his nerve, breaking their engagement, period.

  For this, he was going to have to work for her forgiveness. He would find her stingy with it. When he came crawling back, she planned to let him know in no uncertain terms how churlish he'd been to pull this stunt during Christmas and ruin her holiday.

  For the past year, they'd constantly talked marriage. They had made plans. They agreed that marriages should be well blueprinted and based on common goals rather than strictly romance. Sexual heat was a shaky foundation to build a life on.

  Sage had decided long ago that she would never depend on a man for her happiness. Travis understood that. Likewise, he wanted his wife to be committed to the success of his medical practice. She loved Travis. Hadn't he admitted last night that he loved her? But they were more practical about love than some couples.

  Travis could be driven to passion, just like any man. They'd had their steamy moments together. But it wasn't as though his center of gravity was in his loins. He didn't possess that raw, animal sexuality like her brothers. Not like— Her mind snapped closed around the traitorous thought. She would not allow that man to spoil another minute of her holiday. She would put him out of her mind.

  Unfortunately, her mind had a will of its own. Emblazoned upon it was the image of Harlan Boyd lying in the middle of her bed. It was almost too short for him. The crown of his blond head had been touching the headboard; his long legs had reached nearly to the foot of it.

  He hadn't attempted to make himself more decent, but had just lain there, one knee bent and slightly raised. She'd seen layouts of naked men in Playgirl that didn't come close to being that sexy. It was sexier than being naked, lying there with the top snap and two buttons of his fly undone.


  It disturbed her that she remembered it in such vivid detail, but she was absolutely certain that she was right. Two buttons had been undone. She had seen the elastic waistband of his shorts.

  She had a clear mental image of his chest, wide and muscular and covered with fuzzy, brown hair. His stomach and belly were well-muscled. She could have bounced a quarter off his abdomen, it was so tight. He hadn't even had the decency to take his hands from behind his head. Instead, he had exposed his underarms, which were lined with patches of soft hair.

  He'd known all those nurses at the hospital were gawking at him. The jerk was well aware of his good looks. And he was good-looking, if the scoundrel type appealed to you. He was a conceited exhibitionist. When she went into the room, had he stammered apologies for being caught without his shirt? No. Had he clambered to cover himself? No.

  Instead, he had lain there with that insufferably complacent smile on his face, looking like he was either thinking about having sex, or had just had sex, or—she recalled the smoldering heat in his eyes—was waiting to have sex.

  His thoughts might have been dirty, but at least he wasn't. The bedroom had been as neat as she had ever kept it, neater in fact. She'd noticed at the kitchen table, while she'd eaten her sandwich under his steady blue stare, that his nails were clean and trimmed. He didn't smell bad. In fact, in the cockpit of the airplane she'd caught a whiff of her favorite men's fragrance. His clothes certainly made no fashion statement, but they were right at home in Milton Point. He spoke with a Texas twang but sounded quite literate. He hadn't made any blatant grammatical errors.

  However, his limited virtues hardly made up for his gross character flaws. How dare he kiss her like that? It had been a kiss straight out of an X-rated movie, which was probably the only kind of movie he went to see. She'd never been kissed like that. Not even Travis—

  Judiciously she didn't carry the comparison of Harlan to Travis any farther. Loyally, she told herself the comparison wouldn't be fair to Travis, but she didn't delve into precisely why it wouldn't be.