“Sallie, now you have to promise this year you’ll at least help Tara,” Rhonda said chidingly as Sallie glanced up from the grilled chicken and salad she was picking at.
Nearing sixty, but looking years younger, her thick auburn hair was arranged into an artfully messy updo and her hazel eyes were always warm and filled with good humor. Slender, dressed in a neat, blue silk sheath, she was the epitome of genteel elegance.
“Of course, I will.” Sallie sat back in her chair and gave Rhonda a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I told you, there was that emergency at the store last year.”
To her right, Chet snickered. “You’ve had an emergency every year, Sallie. Perhaps we should give you a partner, to make things easier, of course.”
“Oh, Chet, what a wonderful idea!” Rhonda proclaimed, her hands coming together in a silent clap. “Why, I should have thought of that.”
Chet smiled benignly. His cherubic features were rather kind for a bank president, Sallie always thought. Deep brown eyes and thinning brown hair completed the appearance.
And just that quickly, Sallie realized the setup. She should have seen it coming, she thought in resignation.
Looking behind her, Chet’s eyes widened and the expression of such obviously fake surprise had her glancing in Rhonda’s direction in time to catch the woman’s smile of smug satisfaction.
“Justice, fancy meeting you here. Rhonda and I were just getting ready to discuss this year’s event with Miss Hamblen.” His expression turned suddenly serious as Justice Culpepper stepped to the empty chair. “Hell, man, what happened to your face?”
Sallie looked up at the rancher to see one side of his handsome face bruised, his eye swollen. Someone blacked his eye good. No doubt he deserved it.
“Another fight with your brothers, dear?” Rhonda asked sympathetically as Justice took his seat and glanced at Sallie, his lips quirking as though amused.
“Not this time,” he drawled. “It was a disagreement with a friend, I’m afraid.”
Rhonda and Chet turned their gazes on her.
“I didn’t hit him,” she informed them, frowning.
Chet wiped his hand over his lower face, hiding a smile while Rhonda didn’t even bother.
“Did we get you into trouble, dear?” Rhonda asked, regret shimmering in her voice.
His lips only twitched as he lifted a brow, meeting Sallie’s gaze with mockery.
“Justice got himself into trouble, Rhonda,” Jacob spoke behind Sallie, his deep voice causing a shaft of sensation to strike her belly and a flush to wash over her. “You know he likes to rile people. He riled the wrong man.”
Clasping her hands in her lap, Sallie was aware of the three at the table with her, as well as several people close by, watching her and Jacob with far too much interest. Pushing back embarrassment, emotion, anger, she stared across the table at Chet and watched as several beads of sweat began to dot his forehead.
Enough was enough. Sallie had spent a week avoiding Jacob, his friends, as well as innuendos and downright snide remarks from several women. They were upset because the local legend and most wanted stud in the county wasn’t deigning to share any of his attention with them. As far as she was concerned, they could have her part.
Pacing the floors at night, waking, certain he was there, craving his touch like an addict needing a fix? She didn’t need it. She just wanted it to go away. She wanted to feel normal again … didn’t she?
“Miss Hamblen.” His hands settled on her shoulders while she remained still and silent. But when he brushed a kiss across the top of her head, she jerked so hard with surprise, she hit the table, nearly overturning her water.
Rhonda and Chet blinked at him in shock.
Releasing her shoulders, Jacob took the seat Justice was vacating at her side and sat down with lazy grace. He was like a satisfied cat, she decided, playing with his prey.
“I believe our meeting is over.” She forced a smile as she turned to Rhonda and reached for her purse.
“You don’t want to do that, sweetheart.” Jacob’s voice was low, warning. “The gossips will have a field day if you just up and leave.”
He didn’t give a damn about gossips, she thought, but unfortunately, at this point, those gossips were beginning to steal her peace. The question was, did she give into his warning, or do as she wanted, which was to stand up and leave?
Placing her hands in her lap once again she turned to look at Jacob. “You are becoming an irritant, Mr. Donovan.”
Justice snorted in surprise. “She just figuring that out?”
Neither she nor Jacob glanced at him.
“Give me time.” His smile was pure arrogance and far too much charm. “I intend to grow on you.”
Not if she could help it. And she would help it. She didn’t need him growing on her. She didn’t need this man stealing parts of her she’d never recover. And that was exactly what he’d do.
* * *
Damn woman. She was as stubborn as the mountains and as damned pretty as a sunrise, Jacob thought as he pulled his truck into her driveway a few hours later, behind the little sedan she drove. She’d refused every suggestion Rhonda and Chet had come up with that she work with either Jacob or Justice during the festival. Each time she’d held firm that they contact Tara.
He’d be damned if he’d contact Tara about anything.
“Jacob, I didn’t invite you over,” she informed him as he reached the side entrance to the house just as she was getting ready to unlock it. “And I don’t have time for you tonight.”
Didn’t have time for him?
“Sweetheart, you better make time.” It was all he could do to keep from snarling like a bear with a thorn in its paw.
Because he could see the need in her. He could almost feel it in the air around her, vibrating against his skin, fueling his.
Taking the keys from her hand, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping inside ahead of her, more from habit than any other reason.
Low lights glowed within the house, just as they had the first night, the pristine rooms reflecting a woman who either didn’t consider this house a home or either didn’t know what a home should be. He was aware of her coming in behind him, closing and locking the door before hanging her purse in the coat closet and slipping her shoes from her feet.
The dress she wore was softer, flowy, rather than the straight skirt and blouse she’d worn to the bar the week before. It was sleeveless, the neckline scalloped, the hem coming just above her knees.
Perfect to fuck her in.
As she turned, his arm went around her waist, pulling her to his chest, as he watched the emotions that flashed across her face in those moments. Vulnerability, need, and hunger and just a hint of fear.
“Are you scared of me, Sallie?” he asked, using his free hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair back from her face.
Disbelief flashed across her pale blue gaze.
“I’m not scared of you in the least, Jacob,” she assured him, her hands splayed against his chest, neither pushing him away nor clinging to him. “You’d never hurt me physically, but what you can do is turn my life inside out more than you already have.”
More than she’d turned his life inside out? It seemed to him they were standing on equal ground there.