More Than a Mistress (6 page)

The men muttered their agreement and ambled off.

“I hope I didn't interrupt something important.”

“Nah. They just wanted to rehash a little.” He pulled out a folding chair for her and waited for her to sit. He was also waiting for a stronger sign of what she wanted from him. Since that blasted rose incident, he felt as though he'd spent his last nickel at the fair and was thumbing his way home.

“Is everyone okay?”

He nodded and sat down. “We had a couple of close calls with some elderly people. They're in the hospital now but I think they'll be okay. The property damage is the problem.” He shook his head. “You heard anything about Russ's place?”

Russ Bradford, Carly's husband, owned a catfish farm. “Carly says one pond flooded. But you know, he's got insurance so he should be okay. He made her stay here, and she's ticked at him right now.”

Amusement lit Daniel's eyes. “If I know Russ, he'll find a way to get back in her good graces.” He dug into the meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and hot rolls.

“Long day?” she asked sympathetically.

He swallowed a bite and nodded. “Yeah. I probably look like hell.”

His jeans and flannel shirt were wet and they clung to his muscular frame, emphasizing his broad chest, flat belly and powerful thighs. Perhaps someone else would find that unappealing. That someone certainly wouldn't be female. Besides being affected by his impressive physique, Sara also admired his concern for other people. It weakened her already skimpy reservations about him.

“Sara, this is when you're supposed to lie and say, ‘No, you don't look like hell. You look fine.'”

She looked at the ironic expression on his face, the dark shadow of his unshaven jaw and the circles under his eyes. Leaning forward, she touched that rough jaw fleetingly. “No. You don't look like hell. You look like Beulah County's hero.”

Daniel felt a rush of embarrassment. He cleared his throat, torn between rubbing his face against Sara's soft hand and pulling away. He liked having her admiration, but his feelings for Sara weren't particularly heroic. They were basic and selfish. He wanted her hot and naked beneath him.

She saved him from embarrassing himself further by asking him something else about the flood, then she carried the conversation while he ate. “I didn't realize this was such a busy time of the year for you. You've had a heavy workload lately, haven't you?”

Daniel shrugged. “It hasn't been that bad.”

Sara's eyes widened. “Oh, really? That's not what Troy said.”

“Troy has a bad habit of exaggerating. He—” Catching the skeptical expression on Sara's face, Daniel stopped. Realization trickled in. She'd caught him. He cleared his throat.

“
Unavailable
is the word he used. Repeatedly.” Sara smiled sweetly. “I should know. I've heard him use that word ten times during the last week. When you didn't return my calls, I wondered if you'd left the county.”

Daniel grimaced. Not answering Sara's calls had been his greatest exercise in self-control. He'd wanted to badly. Just to hear her voice, even if she fussed at him about the dog, even if she said no. He set down his biscuit. “I knew that if you told me you didn't want the pup, I'd have to take him back and you wouldn't give him a chance to see how it would work out.”

“Instead I suffered through seven nights of listening to him howl at the top of his lungs.”

Daniel winced. “Could you put him outside?”

Sara looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “So the neighbors could complain? It's been cold, Daniel. I don't know anything about puppies, but it can't be good for them to be outside in the cold.”

“You want me to take him back?” he asked in resignation.

“No. Pavi and—”

“Pavi?”

“His name.” Her lips twitched. “I named him after Pavarotti, the opera star. We've come to a meeting of the minds.” She thought of the puddles on her kitchen floor. “Sort of. I'm going to keep him.”

Daniel was enormously pleased. “You like him.”

Sara smiled. “How could I not?”

“I was right.”

Sara nodded, and her expression became thoughtful. “About a lot of things.”

Daniel felt the punch of her gaze clear to his gut.

“If you're not too busy…” she began and looked down. The way she twisted her hands was clear evidence of her edginess.

“I'm not.” Daniel covered her hands with one of his own. The twisting stopped, and her gaze met his. Her eyes were full of emotion that changed like the weather, but the need he read was blatant. In his gut he felt the familiar, relentless rise of heat that no cold shower could ease. A wise man would sense the danger and would approach with caution. But he'd gone way past wisdom. There were layers of secrets enveloping Sara, and he wanted to peel them all off.

She turned her hand over and twined her fingers through his. “I was wondering if you'd like to take me up on that rain check for dinner.” Her voice was soft and warm, as he imagined her body would be. “That is, if you're available.”

“I'm available, honey,” he growled without the slightest hesitation. He tightened his hand around hers. “Just name the time.”

Sara tried to think. The sensible part of her knew she was headed straight for the frying pan by getting involved with Daniel Pendleton. The sensual part just didn't give a damn anymore. “The day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” she managed. “The next day is Christmas.” She lifted her shoulders. “I don't know.”

Daniel had spent the last six months deciding what to do about Sara Kingston. He wasn't interested in waiting any longer. “Tomorrow night. I'll take you out.”

Sara shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “You wanted a rain check for a meal. I'm fixing a meal for you.”

Nearly groaning, he tossed back the rest of his soda. The only meal he wanted was her. The thought made his loins ache. Standing, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on.”

Sara's gaze widened. “Where?”

“To my truck. To your car.” He couldn't begin to explain the sheer necessity to feel her mouth beneath his. He nudged her toward the door. “Anywhere I can be alone with you.”

“But—”

“Three minutes, Sara.” He shoved the door open and led her outside. The cool mist hit his face, but didn't dampen his ardor. “All I'm asking for is three minutes. Where's your car?”

She pointed toward a Toyota three rows away. As they headed toward it, their shoes made crunching sounds in the gravel parking lot.

“It's not locked,” she said breathlessly when they reached it.

Daniel opened the passenger door, slid in and pulled her onto his lap. He slammed the car door shut. At her sound of surprise he took her face into his hands. “Three minutes.”

It was a sexual kiss. No frills, little patience, full of need, and all-consuming. Sara's heart hammered in a staccato rhythm. She felt the press of his hard thighs beneath hers and his muscular chest beneath her hands. But for that moment the overriding focus of her existence was Daniel's mouth telling her without words that he wanted her more than anything in the world.

The intimacy of his tongue sliding past her lips and teeth to tangle with hers made her chest tighten. Tilting her head for better access, he was more aggressive than smooth. The blatant honesty in his every movement shook her to her core. She instinctively closed her lips around his tongue in a sucking motion. He gave a rough groan and nipped at her bottom lip.

He seemed to want to taste every corner of her mouth, her soft inner lips, her teeth and tongue. His wanting made blood roar in her head and her nether regions pulse. She shifted and moaned, sliding her mouth first one way, then another against his. His arousal, pressed against her thigh, promised pleasure and fulfillment, making the achy, empty feeling between her legs almost unbearable.

Without hesitation she slipped her hand between their bodies and rubbed the hard ridge of flesh straining his jeans.

Daniel's hips moved convulsively, and suddenly she couldn't get close enough. She tugged at the button and zipper, all the while letting his open mouth consume hers. Her fingers found him, and he was like velvet-wrapped steel. When she closed her hand around him, he ripped his mouth from hers with a searing oath.

Sara's chest hurt with the effort to breathe. Through a haze of arousal she saw Daniel close his eyes as if he were in pain. “Don't. For Christ's sake, don't.”

She couldn't stop, not with her body thrumming with his heady scent and the feel of him in her palm. Her thumb glanced the tip of his arousal.

Daniel jerked and swore again. Shuddering, he grabbed her hand and pulled it away.

His gesture jerked her back to reality. Her head abruptly cleared, and guilt surged through her. Her mouth had been so hungry, her hands had been sinfully curious and her mind had abandoned her without a prayer. Appalled at her lack of control, she closed her eyes and tried to gather her wits.

“Sara,” Daniel began.

Not wanting to hear whatever he had to say, she shook her head and swallowed. “No. Just give me a minute. I don't know—”

“Sara—”

Panic sliced through her. “Please!” Unable to face him, she bit her lip and stared at the steamed-up window. “Less than three minutes and I'm in your pants. I don't—”

Daniel gave her hand a quick jerk that stopped her desperate monologue and made her look at him. His eyes were black with passion. With exquisite deliberation he lifted her sinfully curious hand to his hot mouth and kissed it.

“You weren't doing anything I didn't want you to do.” He kissed her hand again and gave a rough sigh. “But you know and I know that it wouldn't have taken much more and it would have been all over.” His voice lowered. “I want to be inside you the first time.”

Sara sucked in a deep breath. She cleared her throat. “I'm trying to get back some sort of control, and you're not making it easy for me.”

‘“Honey, we passed control a long time ago.” Twining his hands in her hair, he tugged her closer for a quick, possessive kiss. Shaking his head at his instantly renewed arousal, he set her into the driver's seat. “My three minutes are up.” He gingerly eased up his zipper, fastened his jeans and pushed open the car door. “I'll see you tomorrow night.” Sara's head was still spinning. “What time?” He wrote six-thirty in the condensation on the windows and gave her one last heated glance. “Earlier if I can manage it.”

 

Sara checked the beef tips one more time. Not overdone. Not underdone. Just right, she thought, stirring the meat while she set the burner on the lowest temperature. Rolls were warming in the oven. She'd uncorked the rose wine to allow it to breathe. She'd hedged her bets by putting a couple of beers in the refrigerator just in case Daniel didn't like wine.

The table was set with her fine china and cloth napkins. She'd decided against candles because she didn't want the atmosphere too forced or staged.

She'd dressed in a carefully casual attire—a pink angora sweater and winter-white trousers. It was a good hair day. Everything should be perfect.

Everything would be perfect if the clock hadn't read seven o'clock. He'd told her six-thirty.

Tired of fidgeting, she went into the living room and sat down in a lounger. She pulled out a magazine and stared blankly at the pages. Her earlier sense of anticipation had fizzled during the last five minutes. Daniel was more reliable than this. There must be something wrong, she told herself. His tardiness wasn't a reflection on her. It was obviously due to external factors.

A niggling doubt, however, pulled at her. Her two serious romantic relationships had accustomed her to waiting for men. With the senator it had been a matter of waiting for him to call, waiting to see him and waiting to be with him. With her husband it had been a matter of keeping his dinner warm while he worked late, keeping his bed warm when he was tired and waiting in vain for his disapproval to wane.

In the back of her mind she'd always doubted that she'd been good enough for him. When he'd learned about the senator, his reaction had reinforced the belief. Still she'd waited and hoped that one day he would look at her without censure. Her hope had died with him.

She could hear the therapist's words:
You're a good person, Sara. You're lying if you tell yourself anything different. Make sure you don't let anyone else tell you differently either.

Sara rose to her feet and tossed the magazine on the sofa. Damn right, she was a good person. And if Daniel Pendleton thought differently, he could forget any future rain checks, kisses in cars or anything else.

Feeling a kick of energy after her little pep talk, she gave a huff of righteous pride and stomped around the den, repeating a few self-affirmations. She'd worked past her ebbing spirits when the oven timer dinged. Sara stopped, looking in the direction of the kitchen. The bread was ready.

And she had no guest to serve it to.

 

Three hours later while she wiped the counters, the phone rang. She considered not answering it. After spending most of the evening trying not to jump to unflattering conclusions about Daniel, she was in no mood to hear any half-baked excuses about why he wasn't here. Reluctantly she picked it up on the fifth ring. “Hello.”

“Sara, this is Daniel,” he said in a breathless rush.

His voice sounded so good that her heart squeezed in her chest. She exhaled in relief, and the unsettling, doubt-filled tension immediately left her body.

“It's been an awful night. Erin had an emergency with one of her mares, and I got tied up. I'm sorry, but I swear this is the first chance I had to call you.”

She heard his earnest frustration, and suddenly everything was okay. Sara recalled that several of Erin's horses were in foal. “Is the mare okay?”

“The mare is,” he said quietly.

“And the foal?”

“She lost it.”

Her heart sank. She could sense his disappointment. “I'm so sorry. Do they know what caused it?”

“Not yet. The vet's gonna run some tests. Damn, I hate to see this kind of thing happen during their first Christmas together.”

“I know,” she agreed. “At least they've got each other.”

“Yeah.”

“How's Luke?”

“Upset and confused.”

She sighed, feeling helpless. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Nah. Carly brought over some food that everybody picked at. Everyone's just gonna hit the sack early tonight, especially Erin and Garth. I think they want to try to put it behind them as soon as possible.”

“I'm really sorry.”

“Yeah, and I'm really sorry that I didn't get to see you tonight.”

Sara felt a twist in her stomach. “The mare was more important.”

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “But now I've got to try to talk you into giving me a rain check on my rain check.”

She felt the beginning of a grin. “Sounds complicated.”

“Sounds
tough.
”

Sara twirled the phone cord around her fingers. “Oh, I don't know. You'll probably think of something.”

“It's damn lousy for a guy to push for a date and not show up. Most men wouldn't get another chance.”

Sara stopped twisting the cord. “You're not most men.”

A long silence followed, and on the other end of the line Daniel took a long time catching his breath. She affected him that way. He'd wondered if she would snub him. Hell, he'd been
nervous
about calling her because he feared he'd messed up his chances with her. Instead she knocked him for a loop with that last statement.

“I really wanted to see you tonight,” he growled.

“Me too.”

Her husky voice made his blood heat. “Tomorrow night.”

“It's Christmas Eve. Your family—”

Daniel swore. He had to struggle to rein in his frustration. “Okay. December twenty-sixth at six o'clock.”

“That's Sunday.”

His patience long gone, he shook his head. “Tough.”

 

On Christmas morning Sara slept in. She'd planned it that way. Sleeping late helped make long holidays feel shorter. She slipped on ancient slippers along with her silk robe, piled her hair on top of her head and relished being a slob. After celebrating with a chocolate croissant for breakfast, she gave Pavi his food and an extra doggie treat. The puppy showed his gratitude by nearly licking her to death and puddling on the floor.

Sara cleaned up, then drew close the gate she'd installed in the kitchen doorway. She put a Christmas CD on the player, and opened the presents under her little tree. A sales rep who'd asked her out every time he passed through Beulah gave her a bottle of wine, and a travel agent in Chattanooga had sent her a huge box of fine chocolates.

She considered the wine. “Well, why not?” she muttered and went back to the kitchen to pop the cork. After pouring some into a crystal wineglass she took it with her to the den and alternated a few sweet chocolate candies with sips of the semidry wine. Sara sighed at the decadent flavor combination.

She'd saved Carly's gift for last—a gorgeous hand-embroidered sweater and an extra week of vacation in January.
Go someplace where you won't need this sweater,
the note said.

Sara smiled. Maybe she would. It was a gray day, and the weather made her think of past Christmases. She'd spent a few with her mother. Sometimes there'd been a man around, sometimes not. There'd been happier times spent with foster parents. Her thoughts wandered to the Christmas she'd spent alone because the senator had needed to be with his family. Mistresses, she'd learned, got romantic moments and presents, but they didn't get holidays.

She thought of Daniel and wondered if he would think of her the same way. Her heart gave a little wrench. He wanted sex with her. That was obvious. She wanted sex with him. She couldn't—and wouldn't—deny it. Was she getting herself into the same kind of relationship that had been her downfall before?

“Ridiculous,” she said aloud, wanting to banish the distressing notion from her mind. Daniel wasn't a senator. He wasn't paying for her apartment, and she surely wasn't some naive, eighteen-year-old virgin. So what if they weren't broadcasting their relationship? They were both private people and wouldn't want others gossiping.

Something about it, though, left a bad taste in her mouth. Sara shook it off, gave Pavi the wrapping paper to shred, which he did with gusto all over the kitchen floor, while she removed from the freezer her turkey-and-dressing dinner. She refused to fix a meal with all the trimmings when she was feeding only herself.

The doorbell startled her, making her drop the frozen meal. Pavi started barking and trying to leap over the gate.

“Hush,” Sara said. She looked down at the robe she still wore and grimaced at her appearance. The bell rang again, spurring her to the door.

To Daniel.

Speechless, Sara held her breath and simply stared at him. He wore a down jacket, red V-neck sweater, slim-fitting jeans and boots. She jerked her gaze back to his face and caught the gleam in his violet eyes and a hint of a bad-boy grin curving his lips. Sara was acutely aware that he looked great, and she did not.

“Merry Christmas, Sara.”

“Merry Christmas,” she managed. “What are you doing here?”

He moved toward the door and nudged her to the side. “Picking you up for Christmas dinner with the Pendletons. Carly sent me. How's the hound?” he asked, nodding toward her barking dog.

“Fine. Carly must be confused,” Sara returned, quite certain that neither Carly nor Daniel were confused. They were just pushy. “I told her I wouldn't be able to make it today.” Remembering that her frozen dinner was in the middle of the floor, she headed toward the kitchen. “I've already got other plans.”

Daniel matched her step for step. “What are you doing?”

Sara blocked the kitchen doorway with her body. “It's been a busy week, so I thought I'd have a quiet holiday. Tell Carly I said thanks, but—”

Daniel reached past her to pet Pavi and suddenly stopped. He spotted the frozen dinner and the bottle of wine at the same time. Unsettled, he looked at Sara again. She was in a silk robe. Her hair was sexily mussed, her chin had a smudge of chocolate on it and she looked slightly alarmed, as if she'd been caught at something. Daniel had a sinking feeling in his gut. He wondered just what he'd interrupted. He wondered if someone was in her bedroom waiting for her. Jealousy slammed into him.

Past her shoulder in the den, he spied a wineglass and a box of chocolates. He cleared his throat and with enormous restraint said, “Did I come at a bad time?”