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As for Sara’s heart, he had no desire to claim it. He wanted her body. And he just wanted to borrow it until he got her out of his system. It had become a matter of survival, and it would be his greatest pleasure to make sure Sara got as much out of their affair as he did. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Carly?”
“Come in,” Carly called.
Sara pushed open the door, holding a stack of papers. “I need to clarify something on this contract with—” She saw Daniel and promptly dropped the papers.
“Oh my.” Distressed, Sara dropped to her knees. She wasn’t a fumbler. She made it a point not to fumble, trip or fidget. It was all part of the cool, competent image she worked hard to project. That cool, competent image covered a boatload of vulnerability and self-doubt. The senator had helped her acquire a poise that lifted her beyond her seedy background. But the last few days, to her chagrin, she’d been a total klutz, all because of Daniel Pendleton.
Suddenly Daniel was beside her on the floor, collecting the papers. “Here, let me help you.”
“No. That’s okay.” Past caring that the papers were out of order, she gathered them together in her hands as quickly as possible. “I think I’ve got them now.”
She stood; Daniel followed. She could feel his gaze on her, and an awkward silence hummed between them.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shove his hands into his pockets. She wondered what that gesture meant. She’d once read an article about how body language often told the truth more than a person’s words did.
“Since I was in town today,” Daniel ventured, “I was wondering if either of you ladies would like to have lunch with me. I thought I’d try one of those places on the wharf.”
Carly sighed, shaking her head. “Count me out.” She pointed toward the desk. “All you have to do is take a look at my desk.”
Relieved that Carly had paved the way so nicely for her, Sara shrugged. “I brought a sandwich to eat at my desk, so…”
Carly looked contrite. “Sara, don’t feel like you’ve got to miss lunch just because I’m working. You’ve stayed late every night this week.”
Sara shook her head. “But—”
“I’m beginning to feel like Simon Legree and Scrooge all rolled into one. Please. Appease my guilt and go.”
Feeling cornered, Sara glanced at Daniel, then back at Carly. “Are you sure? I’m so distracted with these contracts, I’m sure I’ll be rotten company.”
“I’m sure,” Carly said.
Daniel hitched one dark eyebrow in amusement. Sara knew he could tell she was trying to get out of it. “I’m sure too,” he said in a low, taunting voice.
And he was, Sara thought. Daniel Pendleton was always insufferably sure of himself. It was one more reason for her not to like him. “I’ll get my coat,” she said reluctantly, deciding to order something that could be eaten quickly.
To her dismay they ended up at the Cimarron Rose, where barbecued baby back ribs, onion-ring loaves and gooey cinnamon rolls were the order of the day.
“A salad,” she said firmly.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked.
“No. Just a salad.”
Daniel frowned for a moment, then gave his order—an entire rack of those baby back ribs along with crab legs and a baked potato.
Sara reconsidered her choice. There was no reason to deprive herself of some of her favorite foods just because she was eating with Daniel. It wasn’t as if they were sharing a candlelight dinner for two in the privacy of her home. That thought gave her a jolt.
The waitress sent Daniel a broad smile and started to leave.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Sara said quickly, not meeting Daniel’s gaze. “I’d like an onion-ring loaf, a half rack of baby back ribs, Western-style sauce and a baked potato.” She closed the menu. “Please.”
“Sure you don’t want crab legs?” Daniel asked after the waitress left. He wore a subtle, teasing grin.
“No.” Sara chewed her lip to keep from smiling back at him, but failed. “If I eat any more, you’ll have to wheel me out of here in a cart.”
Daniel’s gaze fell over her in assessment. “I wouldn’t need a cart to carry you even if you tripled your order. Not with your weight.”
“You have no idea what my weight is,” Sara said, turning the subject away from the notion of him “carrying” her.
“Bet I could guess.”
The way he said it caused a tickling sensation in her stomach. She usually squashed this kind of flirty conversation. It was too personal, and she needed to keep her distance. But something about him, the I-dare-you-lady expression, made her want to accept the little challenge. “Okay. Winner gets the onion-ring loaf.”
His eyes widened. “High stakes. How close do I have to get?”
Sara stared at him, feeling her pulse leap. Close.
“In pounds,” he clarified.
Her mind going blank with relief, she pulled a figure out of nowhere. “Two pounds.”
“Oooh. That’s tough.” He shook his head. “I’ll give it a try.”
That was when Sara realized this conversation had been a huge error. Daniel’s gaze measured her neck, and she felt the warmth of it as if his hands gently touched her skin. He studied the width of her shoulders down her white silk blouse to her elbows. Then she watched the motion of his eyes as they moved to the bow that rested against her throat.
Sara’s breath hung suspended while, ever so slowly, that violet gaze lowered to assess her breasts. Beyond her lacy bra his gaze caressed like fingers, cupping the weight of her, testing her softness. Sara felt a stinging arousal shoot straight to her nipples. Her face flamed with heat, and she nearly grabbed a napkin to hide herself.
Daniel stared straight at the center of her swollen breasts.
Sara bit her lip. Unable to stand his scrutiny any longer, she crossed her arms. “Time’s—”
“One hundred and seventeen pounds,” he said in a rough voice, reaching for his water glass. “One nineteen after you’ve just gotten out of a shower and you’re soaking wet.”
He sounded as if that last idea appealed to him. How had this discussion gotten so intimate? “How on earth did you guess?” she choked out.
He gave a chuckle and shook his head. “You wouldn’t like my answer.”
“Why?”
“Because my expertise comes from hauling bags of feed and sizing up livestock.”
“So,” Sara said, knowing she should be insulted, but smothering laughter instead, “as a point of reference for guessing my weight, you used cows and horses.”
Daniel grinned. “You’re exaggerating. More like pigs and goats.”
This time Sara laughed. She couldn’t help it.
The waitress delivered the food, and during the course of the meal Sara had a tough time keeping up her guard. It was difficult to remain prim and proper when you were up to your elbows in barbecue sauce.
“Is your schedule busy in the winter?”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s nothing like spring or summer, but there always seems to be enough to do. Old Mr. Johnson had a dead tree he wanted cut into firewood, so I took care of that yesterday. I’m in charge of the emergency services for Beulah County. I twist arms and try to get the mayor to spend more money.”
Nothing he told her surprised her. People depended on Daniel, and he came through. “And now there’s the wedding for your brother and Erin. They both seem very happy,” Sara said.
Daniel nodded. “He worships the ground Erin walks on.”
“What do you think of that?”
Daniel paused for a moment, thinking. “She’s done something for him no one else has. He’s different now. He even laughs more.”
“You sound surprised,” Sara said, wiping her fingers.
“I guess I am. Garth’s always been the wild one. It’s as if he’s been looking for something for a long time, and he finally found it. I always worried that he wouldn’t.”
Sara smiled. “Do I hear the big brother talking?”
Daniel felt a twist of irony at the question. He hadn’t always enjoyed the role of big brother. “Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. “What about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Not that I know of,” Sara said dryly.
He frowned, thinking that was an odd response. “Does that mean you might have some, or you just don’t know who they are?”
Sara debated sharing any of her background with Daniel. It wasn’t something she was proud of. She rarely discussed her past. Then again, it would show the contrast in their upbringing. Maybe Daniel would draw the logical conclusion that they weren’t suited, and his interest would wane. The thought brought relief and a certain, unwelcome uneasiness.
Pushing away the uneasiness, Sara went ahead. “I didn’t have the same kind of family life you did—and still have.”
Daniel shrugged. “Most people don’t have six brothers and one sister.”
“No. I mean, my mother was what we now call a single parent.”
Continuing to study her, he took a sip of beer. “Like Erin,” he said.
“Not quite.” What an understatement. Erin Lindsey loved her son. She would lay down her life before she gave up her child. Sara hesitated, feeling her appetite wane. “My mother didn’t have time to care for a child. She was busy with other things.”
“Like?”
“Men.”
Daniel was raising his glass to his mouth but stopped midmovement. There was a wealth of emotion in that one word—men. He noticed that she’d tensed up again, and he wondered who Sara blamed, her mother or the men. He saw the turbulence in her eyes and felt a corresponding ripple within him. “Bet that was tough.”
Sara searched his features, expecting to see disdain or disapproval. She found neither. “It was when I lived with her.” Unpleasant memories swam from the back of her mind. “And sometimes when I didn’t.”
“You lived with other relatives sometimes?”
She shook her head. The other relatives hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. Bad breeding, they’d said. And, in some ways, she thought, feeling a twist in her stomach, they’d been right. She blinked away the thoughts. “Foster homes.”
“What about your dad?”
Sara stared at the table. She wished she’d kept her mouth shut. Saying it out loud only made it worse. “I’ve never met him.”
A hint of vulnerability showed in her voice. It grabbed at his gut and pulled. She wasn’t whining or cursing, yet, despite her composure, a little hurt and shame came through. He wasn’t immune to it. Daniel cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”
Surprised, Sara looked up, but instead of the censure she’d expected, she found empathy. His simple words touched a vulnerable place inside her, one she kept hidden. She didn’t know what to say.
“It’s disappointing when your parents don’t turn out the way you think they should.” He rubbed the condensation on his glass. “It’s the kind of disappointment that can stick with you a long time even if you don’t want it to.”
He spoke as if he had some experience with the same kind of disappointment, she thought. It made him seem more human to her, more likable, and made her feel a tenuous connection with him. It also made her wonder what his disappointments were. She toyed with asking him until she saw the expression on his face change from intent to teasing.
As if he realized the serious tone of their discussion had gone on long enough, he whispered to her in a conspiratorial tone, “Speaking of things that stick with you, we’d better eat these ribs before they get cold. Carly will give me hell if I don’t make sure you get fed. She’s scared you’re gonna realize your true potential and leave her flat.”
Sara stared at him, and a smile unfurled on her lips. “Why in the world would she think I’m going to leave her?”
“She said you can run Matilda’s Dream without her.”
A flush of pleasure stole over her, overshadowing their previous discussion. “I have no intention of leaving—”
Daniel gave her plate a meaningful glance. “Then do me a favor and eat.”
Sara saw through his obvious maneuver to bring a happier mood to the meal. She should have been immune to his exaggeration, but, Lord help her, it felt great to have a good man teasing her. She saw the tempered desire in his eyes and felt adrenaline rush through her. Sara shook her head in skepticism at her roller-coaster feelings and took a bite of rib. “If you were so concerned about feeding me, then why did you eat my onion loaf?”
With a completely straight face he said, “I won that onion loaf by guessing your weight. It was my duty to eat it.”
Sara laughed. “Duty!”
“When you’re the oldest of eight, you learn very quickly that some duties are more desirable than others.”
“You must have been a trial for your parents.”
“According to my mother, I was perfect.”
Sara rolled her eyes and delicately licked one of her fingers. “Spoken like a first child.”
Daniel watched, fascinated by the sensuality of the small movement. Throughout the meal he’d gotten the impression that occasionally Sara indulged herself, and the way she indulged herself with food was sexy. She didn’t mind the messiness. As a matter of fact she seemed to revel in it.
She took another bite of ribs and slowly ran the slick, pink tip of her tongue over her upper lip.
Daniel’s gut tightened.
Sara stopped. “Is something wrong?”
Yes, Daniel thought. Something was wrong. He wished they were alone so that he could taste that erotic mouth of hers and find out if she was as sweet and spicy as he suspected. He found himself wishing for a lot of things when he was around her. Sara made him feel…deprived. He cleared his throat. “You missed a little sauce on the left.”
Sara lifted her napkin and wiped her mouth. “Here?”
He shook his head. “No.” Giving in to his need, he leaned forward and touched her mouth with his thumb.
