The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) (4 page)

She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak.

He shut the door in her face. And flipped off the light.

Jocelyn felt her face flame in anger. How dare he shut the door in her face! After she’d driven so far to—A second wave of heat shimmered up her throat, as shame washed over her. She was well repaid for her arrogance. How stupid to think she could ever manipulate a man like North Grayhawk with sex! The whole idea had been foolish from the start. She’d simply been too desperate to help Clay to see it.

As she stared at the closed door, a hysterical bubble of laughter escaped. The situation was that ridiculous. How could she have been so wrong? If North really had been attracted to her, he wouldn’t have slammed the door in her face. Which he had. She opened the screen door, still furious enough—at both him and herself—to bang on the closed wooden door, demanding to be let in. Instead, she stared at her fisted hand and laughed again.

Suddenly, the porch light came on and the door opened.

Once her eyes had adjusted to the stark light, Jocelyn found herself facing a man every bit as tall and imposing as she remembered. His cold blue eyes were distant and unapproachable. His rangy body was deceptively relaxed, but she had the impression of a wild animal, ready to pounce.

He was barefoot and wearing a western shirt that he’d apparently just pulled on, because it wasn’t snapped or tucked into his jeans. Which weren’t snapped either.

Her eyes locked on the hair-dusted strip of tanned, muscular abs and chest in front of her and arrowed down to jeans that fit like a glove. She flushed and forced her gaze back up to North’s face.

His eyes had narrowed, and his lips had twisted in a cynical smile. “Still shopping for a man? Or you finally ready to buy?”

Jocelyn ignored the taunt and waited for an invitation to come in. It wasn’t forthcoming. Finally she asked, “May I come in?”

North stepped back, but not very far, and Jocelyn’s breasts brushed against his naked chest as she edged into the shadowy kitchen, lit only by the spill of light from the hallway and the porch. She was flustered, but a quick glance upward revealed that North wasn’t as unaffected, or uninterested, as he wanted her to believe.

Jocelyn watched as his gaze left her face and slowly dropped to her nipples, which had visibly peaked beneath her silk blouse. She felt a frisson of desire shiver up her spine and caught her lower lip in her teeth to keep from moaning.

He did want her. She could do this. She had to do this. Clay’s happiness, his family’s future, depended on her success.

“Like what you see?” she asked in a disturbingly breathless voice.

His eyes moved back up her body slowly until they were focused on hers. Then, in a whiskey-rough voice, he said, “Yes.”

Jocelyn realized she’d been hoping North would proposition her, so that all she had to do was agree. But his full lips remained sealed as his avid gaze roamed her face.

“We’re going to let the moths in,” she said at last, as she eased the screen door closed.

At the same moment, North turned out the porch light.

Jocelyn felt trapped with him in the darkness. She didn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her breasts felt achy and her body clenched in sudden desire as she felt his hand close around her breast.

She gasped.

“This is what you came for, isn’t it?” he said in a voice that resonated deep in his throat. He backed her against the door, his hips thrusting against hers, so there could be no mistaking what he wanted from her. He was hard and hot, and her body trembled with fear and desire.

“Yes,” she whispered.

And then, as though someone had thrown a pail of cold water on her, she realized where she was and what she was doing and what she’d said.

“I mean no,” she said hastily, putting her hands to his shoulders and looking up at eyes that glittered dangerously in the meager light from the hallway. “I mean yes, but—”

“Make up your mind, honey. I haven’t got all night.”

Jocelyn had never heard such brutally frank—and unflattering—language from a man. It shocked her. And angered her. “Get away from me,” she said through bared teeth. “Before I—”

She was free before she could say what awful carnage she would wreak on him for the insult she’d suffered.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, heading for the hallway. “Shut the door when you leave.”

“Wait!” she cried.

He stopped, glanced at her over his shoulder, and said, “What for?”

“We need to talk.”

“Talk isn’t what I want from you.”

Jocelyn held out her hands in supplication. “Please. I only need a few minutes of your time. This is important.”

“There’s only one thing you have that I want, honey. Unless you’ve changed your mind—”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Jocelyn said.

He turned around and crossed his arms and spread his long, bare feet wide. “I’m listening.”

He looked as unassailable as a brick wall. And equally unsympathetic. She was anxious and nervous and afraid that what she was offering wouldn’t be enough to sway him. She searched her mind for something to say that might postpone the inevitable discussion. “I’ve been driving for hours. I could use something cold to drink.”

“Glasses are in the cupboard. Tea is in the fridge. Ice is in the door. Help yourself.”

Jocelyn knew better than to ask “Which cupboard?” She simply moved to the most logical place where glasses might be kept, opened the cupboard and found one there. “Would you like some, too?” she asked.

“Nope.”

She took out a glass, crossed to the refrigerator door, which had an automatic ice dispenser, then opened the fridge and stood there in the cool air and welcome light while she poured herself a glass of tea from a half-gallon jug. She closed the door and turned to him and tried to smile. And failed dismally. “Thank you,” she said as she swallowed a sip.

“Can we sit down?” she asked, gesturing toward a round table in the corner of the kitchen.

“I’m waiting,” he said in response.

“Yes. Well. The thing is—” She looked across the room and found North’s spread-legged stance as intimidating as she was sure he intended it to be. Two could play that game. She set the glass down on the counter and moved toward him. She stopped six inches away. Definitely in his space. She put her hands on his crossed forearms and felt the muscles bunch under her fingers.

“I’m here to ask a favor,” she said.

A muscle worked in his jaw, but he remained silent.

She took a deep breath and said, “I want you to sell your controlling shares of the Bitter Creek Cattle Company back to the Blackthornes.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you don’t need Bitter Creek.”

North snorted.

“And because I’m offering you something more valuable in exchange.”

“Nothing on earth could match the feeling of satisfaction I’m going to get from owning Bitter Creek,” North said savagely.

“You can have me in your bed,” Jocelyn said. “Willing. And eager.”

“What makes you think I care?”

Jocelyn lowered her eyes along his body until she reached the abundant proof cupped lovingly by his butter-soft jeans. She let her hand follow where her eyes led, until her fingertips had outlined the width and warmth of him.

Then she met his gaze and said, “I think you care a great deal.” Her voice caressed as her hand caressed.

“I want revenge more,” he said curtly, grabbing both her wrists and holding them in front of him tight enough to hurt.

“You can still have your revenge,” she argued. “Just in a different way.”

“What way is that?”

“You can steal me from Clay, the way Blackjack stole Eve from your father. Wonderful symmetry, don’t you think?”

He paused so long she thought for sure she’d found an argument he would buy. But he said, “I don’t want a wife.”

“Fine,” she said, smarting from his dismissal. “You can have me for as long as—”

“I’ll take you just long enough to make him suffer,” North interrupted. “That’s all I want.”

“Our wedding day is June 4. I—”

“Call it off,” he said. “That’s my price.”

Jocelyn couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in her throat. She swallowed painfully, and said in a soft voice, “Very well. It’s done.” The ache in her throat made it hard to speak, and she whispered, “Now what?”

He let go of one wrist, but held onto the other and headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway, pulling her along behind him. Her high heels clacked on the wooden floor.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“To bed.”

“No. Wait!” Jocelyn stuck her hand out to brace herself on a passing doorway, but it was no use. He was too strong, and she lost her balance in the high heels and careened after him. “Please. I don’t think I can—”

He turned so suddenly her breasts flattened against his chest when she ran into him, and his arms circled her to hold them both upright. She could see his eyes just fine now, and they were as cold as Arctic ice.

“You trying to wriggle out of the deal already?”

“You don’t have to drag me along like a cat on its way to a bath,” she snapped. “You could leave me a little dignity.”

“There’s nothing dignified about sex. It’s hot and sweaty and coarse and vulgar and about as primitive as life gets.”

Jocelyn gaped. She was too stunned to breathe. “I don’t even know you. We’re strangers. Surely you can’t want—”

“I want you, honey,” he said. “Or there wouldn’t have been a deal. You coming? Or not?”

“I need time—”

“This is a one-time offer,” he said. “Take it or leave it.”

“How do I know you’ll do what you say after you have what you want from me?” she countered.

His eyes narrowed. “I killed the last man who called me a liar.”

Jocelyn would have thought he was exaggerating, except his voice had been too soft—and menacing. “I’m not a man,” she said. “I can’t meet you with six-shooters at dawn. I need some sort of—”

“My word has always been good,” he growled.

“I want it in writing.”

He took her by the hand this time and headed down a different hall. He didn’t stop until he was standing in front of an oak rolltop desk. He let go of her and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and wrote something, then thrust it at her. “Here’s your damned paper.”

On it he’d written:

In exchange for sex with Jocelyn Montrose for as long as I want her, I hereby agree to sell my shares of the Bitter Creek Cattle Company.

He’d dated it and signed his name.

“This won’t work,” she said.

“What the hell’s wrong with it?”

She reached for the pen he’d dropped on the desk and crossed out
for as long as I want her
and wrote in
until September 1
and added language to say that he would sell his shares
to Clay Blackthorne no later than that date.
She thrust the paper back into his hands and said, “Initial the changes.”

He read it and said, “I’m not getting much for what I’m giving up.”

Jocelyn held onto her temper, refusing to respond to the provocative insult. “Then don’t initial the changes. I can always walk back out to my car and drive away.”

His lips quirked on one side, and he laid the paper on the desk and initialed the changes she’d made. He then added another sentence and handed it back to her.

Jocelyn read his words with dismay. She looked up at North and said, “But I have to tell him why I’ve done this. Otherwise, he’ll think—”

“Let him think what he wants. That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”

Jocelyn’s jaw was locked as she laid the paper on the desk and initialed the line that read,
Clay Blackthorne will not be told the terms of this agreement.
Then she folded it up into a very small square and stuck it in the pocket of her skirt. “I hope you’re happy now!”

He headed for the door and said, “Follow me.”

Jocelyn couldn’t believe it was going to be this easy. Would North do as he’d promised? Was Bitter Creek really out of danger? What if he didn’t follow through? Was the document he’d signed enforceable in court? After all, she was exchanging sex for…It wasn’t prostitution. It wasn’t. It was a favor in exchange for a favor.

She and North were on their way back down the first hall when they heard pounding on the back door. “Are you expecting someone?” Jocelyn asked, her eyes wide.

“No,” he said.

North was still moving toward the bedroom, but Jocelyn had stopped and was looking toward the back door, where the banging had gotten louder. “Don’t you want to answer that?”

He shot her a crooked smile and said, “Honey, there’s only one thing on my mind right now. And it isn’t company.”

“Jocelyn! I know you’re in there!”

“That’s Clay!” Jocelyn exclaimed.

She heard North mutter a series of profanities before he strode past her on his way back to the kitchen door. He grabbed her wrist as he passed and said, “Come with me.”