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“He does more than dabble,” Juanita interjected. “He’s quite talented.”
“Quite,” Mark teased, elbowing Luke. The two men chuckled and John rolled his eyes. Marah smiled.
“I have two sisters,” she said with a warm laugh. “I understand perfectly.
“Where do you fall in the lineup?” John asked, leaning his chin into his hands, his elbows propped against the tabletop.
Marah met his intense gaze. “I’m the youngest. My sister Eden is six years older than Marla and me, and Marla is ten minutes older than I am.”
The man nodded. “I’m the oldest. Matthew’s next and there’s a two-year age difference between us. Then comes Mark who is one year younger than Matthew, and Luke here was the family accident.”
Luke snarled. “I was too planned!”
“Like a heart attack,” Mark joked. “I was six when Mom got pregnant with him. He wasn’t planned.”
The table chuckled as Luke flicked a carrot at his brother’s head.
As if reading her mind, John answered the question that had been on her mind. His tone was edged in emotion that seemed to pierce straight through Marah’s heart.
“Our parents died in an automobile accident when Luke was eight.”
For a brief moment, all the men grew quiet, a hushed silence dropping down over the table.
Matthew continued the conversation, breaking the awkward moment. “John stepped in and took responsibility for us. Big brother here became our parent.”
John clasped his hands together, looking from one brother to the other.
“He did a fine job with all you boys,” Juanita interjected, her head bobbing up and down. “A fine job.”
“Your folks would be very proud,” Edward said.
Marah nodded, sensing the man’s discomfort talking about losing his parents and hearing the accolades for all he’d accomplished. She smiled sweetly as she focused all her attention on him. “I imagine it wasn’t easy for you,” she said softly. “When my mother died I don’t know if my sisters and I could have gotten through it without our father.”
Marah turned to meet her dad’s stare, the man watching her intently. “I know how you must feel because our mother was everything to all of us,” she said, her eyes shifting to meet Juanita’s. “Everything.”
As dinner came to a close, the group savoring the last bites of a New York cheesecake with a strawberry rum sauce, John tapped Marah against the back of her hand, his thick fingers sending a current of heat up the length of her arm.
“Care to walk with me, Ms. Briscoe?”
“Only if you drop the Ms. and call me Marah, John.”
He nodded his head, and they excused themselves from the table. “So, now that we’re on a first name basis, what was it you wanted to ask me earlier?” he asked, guiding her out the room, his large hand pressed lightly against her elbow.
“This evening wasn’t what I expected. You said the executive board would be discussing the purchase of our ranch. This doesn’t seem like your typical board meeting to me.”
John chuckled as they maneuvered their way toward the rear of the large home and then down the length of a short corridor. As he turned the knob on the door at the end of the hallway and gestured for her to enter first. “Nothing that my brothers and I do is typical, Marah. And, we are all the executive board that we need.”
Marah stopped short, turning abruptly. “Why are you taking advantage of my father?”
John smiled, the motion brightening his face. “I wasn’t aware that I was. Your father has been very eager to negotiate the sale of that property.”
“That ranch has been his whole life. Since my mother died that ranch is all he has.”
“He has you and your sisters. That’s more important to him than that land is.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Marah said, exasperation tingeing her voice.
“I think I understand your father better than you do. He’s ready to shake things up a little,” John said matter-of-factly. “He wants to make some changes in his life while he still can.”
Marah crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowing sharply. “What do you know about what my father wants?”
“He and I have become good friends over the last year or so. We’ve spent a lot of time together talking.”
A look of confusion washed over Marah’s expression. “How did you two meet?”
“Aunt Juanita introduced us.”
At the mention of that woman’s name Marah bristled, even more baffled by the relationship Juanita and her father appeared to share. The moment passed as she was suddenly distracted. She took in the space surrounding them, John stepping in behind her. The room was a Victorian conservatory, a light-drenched glass chamber that looked out over the landscape outside. The afternoon sun had disappeared, replaced by the brilliance of a full moon and a flood of flickering stars that lit up the dark sky. It was an intimate retreat surrounded by a wealth of vegetation and blooming flora. The glow of nightfall was enchanting and Marah found herself mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the moment. It also helped that they had polished off a bottle or two of bubbly at dinner and she’d been feeling warm and mellow in his company since they’d finished dessert.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she tilted her head skyward. She turned to stare at him, a coy expression painting her face. She leaned against the back of a wing chair, her arms resting on the edge, her gaze sweeping around the room. She was lean and elegant, temptation standing on two legs and every ounce of her body was beckoning him to her.
“Yes, you are,” he answered, pushing his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, his gaze still locked on her as he fought the urge to move to her side. “You clean up nicely,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone.
Marah cut her eyes in his direction. She suddenly couldn’t remember the last time a man had looked at her as intently as John Stallion was watching her now. She shook her head, disturbed that she was being swayed so wantonly when it was she who was supposed to be doing the swaying.
“Thank you,” she muttered, turning an about face to stare out through the wealth of glass that separated them from the gardens outside.
She could feel John step in closer to her, his gaze boring a hole straight into her soul. Marah felt warm, too connected to the moment, and she shook the sensation from her mind. She jumped as he drew a hand down her back, the pad of his index finger outlining the ink coloring her skin.
“Did it hurt?” he asked, stepping in even closer to exam the design.
“A little. Not much,” she said, trying to contain her breathing. She closed her eyes, sensations sweeping like fire through her body. All of his fingers were gently caressing the expanse of her back.
“It’s absolutely exquisite,” John said, his own breathing coming in short, quick gasps. “What possessed you to do it?”
Marah paused, relishing the warmth of his touch, the sensation distracting her from any coherent thoughts. “I…I…liked…” She was unable to form the words to explain the edge to her personality that allowed her to take risks and do things other people wouldn’t. She stepped away from his touch, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso.
“Look,” she said, taking a deep breath and holding it for a quick minute. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re trying to play, John, but I’m not interested,” she said, her tone everything but convincing.
“Aren’t you?” he answered, that smug smile pulling at the line of his mouth.
Marah was suddenly overcome with emotion she didn’t like. No, she didn’t like how she was feeling at all. “No, I’m not,” she said firmly, a bald-faced lie slipping past her lips. “All I want is to know what it will take for you to let go of this deal and leave my family alone?”
“Is that all?’ John asked, taking a step toward her, the look he gave her overwhelming.
Marah was consumed with emotion, her mind and body suddenly doing battle for control. The expression across the man’s face was edged with something that Marah could only describe as wicked. The man was playing her, she thought suddenly. John Stallion was trying to beat her at her own game. She nodded her head slowly. A slight smile blessed her face. If he wanted to play, then she would pull him into a game that would surely leave him wishing he’d found someone else to play with.
“Maybe not,” Marah said, lifting her coquettish gaze to stare into his.
There was a moment of quiet hesitation as both stood contemplating each other.
“I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to kiss you,” Marah said softly, taking a step toward him.
John stepped in to meet her, a torrent of heat flooding his senses when she pressed a perfectly manicured hand against his chest. A large hand fell to the curve of her waist as he snaked his arm around her body to pull her close. When her pelvis met his, John felt like he might explode right there. Marah gasped, her own body awed by the intensity of his touch.
“What’s stopping you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he moved to lower his mouth to hers.
Marah paused, smiling sweetly, then took two steps back, her hand falling down to her side as she slipped out of his grasp. “The urge passed,” she answered, her eyes flickering with amusement.
John laughed, a wide grin filling his face. “You’re a tease, aren’t you?’
“Not at all, Mr. Stallion. I’m just tired of brothers like you who think they can get over on their good looks and smooth lines. This deal is nowhere close to being done. Believe that. Now, either you want to take this to the table or you don’t, but I guarantee you that my father will not be signing any time soon, if—” she paused, allowing her gaze to meet his evenly “—he signs at all.”
John nodded, still smiling smugly. “Tomorrow afternoon. Two-thirty. I think you know where the conference room is, Ms. Briscoe.”
“I do, but then you know where the ranch is. Meet me in the stables, Mr. Stallion. Shall we say three o’clock?”
“Three o’clock,” he responded, nodding his agreement. “I look forward to it.”
As she disappeared in search of her father, John turned to stare out to the starry sky. The image of Marah lingered in his memory as he replayed the evening over in his head. Picturing the woman’s sweet smile made him hard with wanting. Picturing the length of her lithe legs made his stomach hum with appreciation. Picturing her sparkling eyes made him hungry with desire. As he imagined what could have happened between them, he couldn’t help but picture what kissing her could have been like.
Chapter 5
The four men sat lost in their own thoughts when Juanita came into the room to wish them all a good night. “Sweet dreams, boys,” she chimed, her tone as comforting as it had been when she’d come to help eighteen-year-old John assume responsibility for his siblings.
Juanita had been their mother’s best friend since the two women had been children. The deaths of Irene and James Stallion had devastated her world almost as much as it had destroyed the four Stallion children. With no family of her own, she’d made it possible for them to remain together as a family, stepping in to enable John to have guardianship over his brothers. Juanita had been a rock and all four of them adored her.
John smiled, swirling a tulip-shaped glass slowly in his hand. “Thank you, Aunt Juanita. I’ll be heading out in a few minutes,” he said, coddling the last sips of a vintage cognac.
“Why don’t you stay the night?” the woman asked, concern warming her voice. “I can have your room ready in a few minutes.”
He shook his head no. “I want to go home tonight.”
“Well, I’m staying, Matthew interjected. “If I have to sleep alone tonight, I can do it here just as well as I can do it at my apartment.”
His brothers laughed.
“John,” Mark said, his amusement seeping into his voice. “Are you sleeping alone tonight or might you be entertaining company?”
“Yeah, bro. Who will you be discussing contracts with later this evening?” Luke asked.
Juanita waved her hand. “You all need to stop now. Take that nonsense someplace else. Leave your brother be.”
“That’s okay, Aunt Juanita. They’re just jealous,” John responded.
Matthew laughed. “I know I am. You and Ms. Briscoe seemed very comfy with each other. Something you want to tell us?”
John could feel them all staring in his direction. “No,” he said, waving his head from side to side. “There isn’t anything to tell.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Mark said. “I saw how you were looking at the woman.”
John glared in his brother’s direction, not bothering to respond.
Juanita shook her head. “Marah’s a sweet girl. You should get to know her better.”
Matthew came to his feet, moving toward the door. “I’m sure that’s exactly what John wants, Auntie. To get to know her better.” He winked an eye at the other men. “Isn’t that right, big brother?”
John sipped the last of his drink, rising from his own seat. He ignored the grins plastered on his sibling’s faces, not bothering to respond to what Matthew had just said. “Good night, Aunt Juanita,” he said, leaning to kiss the older woman’s cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, baby,” she said, patting his back lightly.
As John moved through the door and out of the room, Matthew continued to grin at him. Unable to resist the temptation, John swung a fist in the man’s direction, landing a punch against his brother’s shoulder.
“Ouch!” Matthew exclaimed, caught off guard by his brother’s behavior. He rubbed the bruised spot, a look of surprise gracing his face.
John laughed. “Keep being a wise ass. You forget I can still whip your butt, little brother. Mind yourself before I hurt you,” he said, waving good night to the others.
Behind him, Luke and Mark rolled with laughter.
Not even the flicker of candlelight, the lull of soft music or the soft scent of lavender bubbles could dispel the frustration Marah was feeling. She dipped a perfectly painted toe in and out of the bath of warm water.
On the ride home, her father’s answers to her many questions had been less than enlightening. He would only acknowledge that he and that woman were good friends, giving her no other information about their relationship. As well, it would seem that his friendship with the Stallion men had bloomed months prior with neither her nor her sisters having any knowledge that they even knew each other.
Marah shook her head, shifting her body against the porcelain pool. What her father had been eager to discuss, though, was John Stallion and his more favorable attributes. It had become quickly obvious that Daddy was keenly interested in Marah being interested in that man. Marah had admonished him for trying to play matchmaker and Edward had simply laughed, reminding Marah that daddies always knew best. In this case though, Marah was determined to prove her daddy wrong.
Admittedly, John Stallion intrigued her. On one hand, there was something about his casual aloofness and commanding demeanor that made her want to know more. She was excited by the prospect of getting to know him better. On the other hand, John Stallion stood poised to wreck havoc on her life. He wasn’t interested in understanding what Briscoe Ranch meant to her and that made him her adversary. A very worthy adversary, Marah surmised, and one who didn’t appear interested in backing down from his position.
Marah took a deep breath, then two, holding both briefly before blowing the warm air past her lips. She couldn’t begin to imagine what was going to happen between them, she thought, but she wished she could stall the rise of wanting that seemed to originate from her center and span through her body each time she thought about him. The man unnerved her, making her quiver at the possibility of his touch. She wished she could get all thoughts of John Stallion out of her head.
Settling into the warmth of the water, Marah was suddenly aware of the song playing on her CD player. The Dixie Chicks were singing about not being ready to make nice. Natalie Maines was crooning about not being ready to back down. And truth be told, Marah wasn’t ready, either.
The short ride to his Edgemere Road home took John longer than it should have. He couldn’t resist driving past the gates of Briscoe Ranch first, stopping his car just at the edge of the extensive property. He sat watching as the limousine pulled out of the driveway, away from the house. He sat with the engine running, lingering long enough to see the flash of lights come on and go off inside the home. He sat allowing himself to imagine for just a moment what Marah might have been doing inside before continuing on home.
The woman was intoxicating, but he was astute enough to know that her obsession with the ranch would prove to be even more problematic than it already was. He never mixed business with pleasure and the business of Briscoe Ranch would surely come between them and any pleasure he might want to imagine the two of them having. Unfortunately, the deal was signed and sealed whether Marah was willing to accept it or not.
John heaved a deep sigh as he pulled into his garage. Under any other circumstances, he would never have entertained the thought of appeasing any woman with a meeting after a deal had been signed and delivered. But for Marah, he realized he was willing to go to extensive lengths to make her feel good about what his company planned to do with the acquisition. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t figure out why.
They barely knew each other. The woman had stormed into his life and may well storm back out when all was said and done, but she had struck a nerve that no other woman had even remotely been able to touch. Making his way inside, John reflected on all he knew about her.
Edward Briscoe had told him story upon story about his three daughters. The man adored his children and it was evident in everything he did and said. He was also a concerned father, worried about what would happen with each of them when he was no longer around to help them toe the line. He had high hopes for his youngest child, the daughter most like the wife he’d loved and adored. And he worried more for her than he did the others.
Edward had told him the tragedy of losing their mother had touched Marah more than the other girls. John could understand what she had gone through, remembering his own devastation when learning that both his parents were gone. Edward feared that Marah’s obsession with the ranch was more about her being afraid to let go and move on with her life than anything else. He was concerned because he himself was ready to think about moving on.
John had watched as Edward and Juanita had grown closer over the last few months. They had slowly moved past the bounds of friendship toward something more and John, for one, was happy for them. He couldn’t help but notice, however, that his Aunt Juanita’s presence had been a source of consternation for Marah. It probably hadn’t helped that her father hadn’t shared the news of the woman in his life with his youngest child. John had admonished him for that while Edward had tried to make John understand why the news was not going to sit well with his daughters and how Marah would be the child least accepting of his choices. They had politely agreed to disagree.
He took a moment to reflect back on his conversations with the woman while she’d been in his family home. At one point he’d been able to pull her aside, to apologize for the experience in the elevator. Marah had shrugged it off. He wasn’t quite so eager to do the same.
After changing out of his tuxedo, he moved from his bedroom into his studio. John settled himself in front of an easel and began to paint. He was ready to lose himself in something that didn’t have to do with business—or that woman. Because that woman was beginning to crawl knee-deep beneath his skin and John wasn’t quite sure he liked how that felt at all.
