Sarah's Surrender (2 page)

She'd bet her last dollar it was the latter. Oh, yeah, the man standing in front of her could be a smooth operator when he wanted to be. And when he didn't? Well, then, 'screw the rest of the world' was probably his motto.

But at this moment in time, he was looking down at her as if her gasoline wasn't the only thing he'd like to pump.

Bastard
. She had his number; that was for sure.

She wasn't unaware of what she looked like. In her opinion, her looks were just okay, pleasantly pretty at most--a raving beauty she certainly wasn't, even though she'd never lacked for dates or the company of men. But they were standing in a deserted service station in a small town in the middle of a vast expanse of country where single women weren't prevalent. So instead of being the flavor of the day, she was probably the only flavor available for several square miles. And she was a new flavor, at that.

Her gaze dropped to his ring finger. It was glaringly naked with not even a white strip of flesh to indicate there had ever been a ring there. As he reset the gas pump and effortlessly began fueling her car, she reluctantly ticked off a small point in his favor. At least he didn't appear to be a cheater as well as an arrogant ass.

John leaned against her car and filled the tank as slowly as he possibly could while his body went on full sexual alert. Blood rushed to his groin with an impact so fierce he had to brace himself. He glanced over at her again while his stomach clenched in coils of pure lust.

He'd never seen her before. If he had, he'd have remembered the punch to the gut he'd taken when he looked in her eyes and had gotten that first whiff of her scent. He could kick himself in the butt for the annoyance he'd let her see a moment ago. He'd been rude, he knew that, and now she was standing as far away from him as possible and holding herself in a manner that shouted that her defenses against him were fully in place.

It put him behind the eight ball but he wasn't going to waste time letting it slow him down.

He had only three thoughts banging around in his brain. Who the hell was she, where did she live, and how fast could he possibly get her naked and horizontal on a flat surface? The feelings rushing through his bloodstream were elemental; nothing more than a biological, chemical reaction to her that swelled his groin and made his blood pump faster.

He recognized the feeling easily. He wanted to fuck her. Nothing more, nothing less.

He eased the pressure on the handle to slow down the fueling process even more so and turned to her. "Where you from?"

Her tongue darted out and as she licked her lips, he felt another rush of heat sizzle down his spine. "Top Hill." Her voice was soft as she named a small town about thirty miles to the northwest. He'd noticed her Texas plates, but he still felt intense relief that she was within driving distance and not a possible five-hundred or so miles away.

He
would
sleep with her. That was a given. There was one possible reason and one reason only why he wouldn't be able to sink inside of her. And that was if she had a husband. A primitive coil of raw anger flared at the thought. A moment of perplexity hit him that he would react to her so fast and so hard, but he dismissed it and focused on her again.

Her eyes wouldn't meet his, and he watched her as frustration built in his system. He couldn't pinpoint any one thing about her that activated his launch sequence; but activate it, she did. She possessed only medium height, a medium build, medium-sized tits, and her face was the same. Medium.

But when you put all that shit together, somehow, she became one of the sexiest women he'd seen in a long, long time. Her front teeth were slightly bucked in the most alluring way possible, and her lips were so full all he could think about was that hot mouth and white little teeth opening to accommodate his cock.

"You married?" He heard the gravelly sound of his voice as he cut to the chase and demanded an answer to the question that was uppermost in his mind.

He saw the pulse in her neck quiver as she sucked in a breath and took another step back from him in obvious shock at his blatant question. She shook her head quickly as she held his eyes for only a split second before dropping them to the numbers slowly moving on the digital display of the pump. "What's taking so long?"

"You tell me, honey," he said with a hint of challenge that he couldn't keep from his voice.

He recognized the shock that spread across her countenance from his open look and focused interest, but she remained mute and stood awkwardly at the back of her vehicle.

"What's your name?" He was determined, if nothing else, to get that information from her before her transaction was complete and she drove away from him. He'd already taken note of her plate numbers, and there was no doubt the sheriff's department owed him enough favors that he could get her information. But he wanted her to give it to him of her own free will.

"Sarah." She answered quickly and didn't elaborate.

Irritation trickled down his spine that she'd make him pull the information from her. "Last name?" he asked succinctly.

"Why?" she asked with a skepticism that made John clamp his teeth. Since when had he had to drag a woman's name from her?

"Just being neighborly, Sarah."

"I appreciate you pumping my gas, but please forgive me when I say you're a stranger and--"

He cut her off. "We don't have to be strangers. Ever heard of getting to know someone?"

"I don't see why that's necessary."

John put the handle back and screwed the gas cap back over her tank. He grabbed the printed receipt the machine spit out and stuffed it in his pocket. As he pulled a disposable towelette from the dispenser and began wiping his hands, he kept his body between her and that of her vehicle to prevent her from trying to leave.

He chunked the tissue in the trash receptacle and immediately walked the few feet toward her. He'd never been shy around women. He always went for what he wanted and he wanted this one now.

He reached out and lifted her chin with one finger as he crowded into her personal space. "It's completely necessary. What's your last name?" he demanded.

She jerked her chin away from him and refused his request with one of her own, "Give me my receipt." She reached out her hand, palm up, and waited for the slip of paper.

"It's not your receipt. What's your last name?" He took the hand she held out in his and studied her reddened palm with a frown.

"What do you mean? I want the receipt." She attempted to snatch her hand from his but he held it steady.

"It's my receipt. My debit card, my receipt. What's your last name?" He moved his eyes back to her face and saw her incredulous look before his gaze dropped to the feminine chest heaving in agitation.

Sarah was appalled. Had he messed her up so badly that she hadn't even noticed he'd used his own card? And why the hell would he pay for her purchase? It was insane. "You can't pay for my gas!"

John watched her intently. "Just did, hon," he clarified clearly, wanting to move on. "What's your last name?" He wasn't going to let this go. He knew he sounded like a dog that refused to let go of a bone, but he wanted her information and he was damn well going to get it.

"You're crazy. That was over fifty dollars worth of gas." Aggravation as well as amazement colored her tone.

"So it was," he agreed. "What's your last name?"

Silence continued to meet his demand and a trace of edginess heated his blood. He wanted her bad and now her refusal to comply with what he needed from her only notched up his interest.

His body tightened with irritability at the impassive look on her face and the realization that he couldn't get past the roadblock she'd created. She'd give him the information he wanted; they always did. She might seem hesitant now, but as soon as she found out how deep his pockets ran, she'd change her tune.

He continued to hold her hand in his while he put his fingers over the side of her face and felt the smooth silkiness of her cheek. Her body stiffened and no doubt she would have jerked away from him again, but the residual shock she was probably feeling from him buying her gas was giving him a few extra minutes before she ran.

He could just cement the deal and tell her who he was, because everyone in a five county area knew his name. All he really wanted from her was one thing, and the quicker the better. If she only went to bed with him because he was richer than sin, why the hell should it matter to him? But he was vaguely hesitant to tell her, the challenge she represented was fueling the aggression in his blood. It was an added heat that was tempting him to keep playing with her.

He decided to try again without revealing his identity. "You're probably right not to tell me. I could be a rapist or a murderer. Good for you, sweetheart. So how do we get past this?"

Her breathing hitched and she shook her head. He felt irritation at her refusal but continued to try to woo her. "People meet in all kind of places, Sarah." He deliberately used her name to establish an intimacy between them. "You're not married, I'm not married. So we met at a gas station. How am I supposed to see you again if you leave me now without anything?"

Sarah was absolutely dumbfounded. Never in a million years had anything like this ever happened to her. School had just let out for the summer, she'd driven all the way from Dallas, and all she wanted to do was get to the farm and get a good night's sleep before she began tackling the problem her conscience just wouldn't let go of.

But this man stood in her way.

She'd met his type before. She'd even been married to one when she was younger. But she wouldn't ever be so stupid as to get involved with a guy like this again. Nope. She had her life completely mapped out. She had a nice man in Dallas who cared for her and treated her like a princess. There was no reason to rock that boat. A guy like this was completely out of the equation.

Not that he wanted to get involved with her. She wasn't completely stupid. Or naïve. She knew what he wanted from the glimmer in his eyes to the way he was crowding her space.

As she stood still in front of him, her mind racing, she was vaguely aware of a car pulling into the station. From the corner of her eye, she could tell it was a sheriff's patrol car. The new arrival didn't faze the man standing in front of her at all. She knew he registered the car because he took his eyes off her for the space of a second and looked over at it. But he didn't stiffen, didn't flinch, didn't betray he was doing anything wrong or abnormal in any way.

So he probably wasn't a rapist.

He was just a player.

And he was trying to play
her.

The officer exited the vehicle and casually threw out, "How's it going, John?"

The man called John who held her hand never took his eyes from her as he answered, "Good, Sam."

The exchange was simple. Casual and to the point. But it told Sarah a couple of things. Even though the man holding her attention was dressed in disreputable jeans and scuffed boots, he was on a first name basis with the local sheriff. And he was called John.

It gave her a much needed sense of safety and now she just wanted to get away from him as quickly as she could. "Sarah McAlister." She answered the question he'd been asking of her in an attempt to pacify him so she could leave.

At her answer, a slow smile crossed his mouth and instead of letting her go, it seemed to have the opposite effect as the hand that was holding hers spread out and his fingers entwined with hers holding her in an even deeper grip. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The rough, callused palm touching hers and the deep vibrations of his drawled words sent a small current of heat through her belly. She quickly dismissed it by telling herself she was only human, after all, and he was undoubtedly the hottest man she'd ever been this close to before in her life.

But that didn't mean she wanted to do anything about it or had any reason to take this further. She tried to retrieve her hand from his. "Look, let me get my purse and I'll give you cash for the gas."

"Nope."

"It's not right. I don't know you--"

"We can remedy that real quick. We'll just pull across the way and have a cup of coffee." As he drawled the words in his deep, southern accent, an accent that was so reminiscent of Matthew McConaughey that it sent a rush of heat to her stomach, he indicated with an almost-imperceptible tilt of his head, a diner, right across the street from where they were standing.

There was absolutely no way she was going for coffee with a strange man. "No, I can't, I--"

"Sure you can. What's so important you can't stop and give me ten minutes of your time?" He asked in a harsh voice that was in complete opposition to his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

Sarah took a deep breath and said the words that would put an end to this small interlude in time. "I'm engaged."

Chapter Two

For five days John tried to push her from his mind. For five days, he built fences, replenished the feeders, dug trenches for irrigation, all the while pushing her from his mind. Every bit of it was back breaking, sweat inducing, hard labor. And for five nights, he tossed and turned, trying to find sleep, only to give up with a stream of cuss words before his hand slid down to his stiffened cock and he found relief the only way he could. Relief from her, relief from a five-minute chance meeting that had apparently fucked him up beyond all reason.

He'd gotten a significant amount of work done during the daylight hours, and he'd been able to place an ad for a foundation manager. But other than that, he felt like his life was suddenly on hold, like it was stagnant in some way it hadn't ever been before.

Even when his lying, cheating, bitch of a wife had downed one too many painkillers with one too many shots of vodka and killed herself by wrapping her car around a telephone pole doing one-twenty, he hadn't felt this dislocated from his body.

He sat in his darkened study as the sun went down with a beer at his elbow, knowing he had to get over whatever Sarah McAlister had done to him. It was over. It was history. He could easily find out where she lived, but he wasn't a stalker, and he wasn't going to do that. But it ate him up. It ate him up inside knowing damn good and well he could find her.