Читать книгу To Love A Stallion - Deborah Fletcher Mello - Страница 7

Her sisters were waiting for her when she entered their childhood bedroom. The decor was as it had been when they’d been children. Bubblegum-pink walls, princess-white furniture with gold trim, gray-and-white shag carpet and white lace curtains adorned the space.

Marah groaned loudly as she threw her lean body across the twin bed that had been Eden’s bed back in the day. Marla and Eden sat on the bed across from her, both grinning from ear to ear. Baby Michael slept soundly between them.

“I think she could use some professional advice,” Marla giggled, jostling Eden’s shoulder.

“I agree,” Eden joked, crossing her legs as she reached for a pen and tablet that sat on the nightstand.

Marah drew her arms up and over her head, her eyes closed tightly as Eden continued. Her twin sister giggled as if something were actually humorous.

“First,” Eden said, switching to her serious business tone as she pretended to scribble a note across the notepad. “When you meet a man you’re interested in, try not to smell like manure.”

Marla burst out laughing.

“Neither one of you is funny,” Marah responded, not bothering to look in their direction.

“Definitely not as funny as you and that man,” Eden quipped.

“Leave it alone, Eden.”

“Leave what alone? Your obvious interest in a man you’ve deemed your enemy hardly went unnoticed. Even Daddy noticed.”

Marah sat upright on the bed. “Did he say something?

“Who?”

“Daddy.”

Both women grinned broadly, cutting a glance in each other’s direction before turning their gazes back to Marah.

“No,” Marla said, her expression saying otherwise. “Did you hear Daddy say something, Eden?”

Eden shrugged. “Not me. I didn’t hear anything.”

Marah reached for one of the plush pillows that decorated the room and sent it sailing toward Eden’s head. Her sister ducked and giggled, the pillow bouncing against the pink wall behind them.

“Don’t you hit my baby,” Marla admonished, a protective hand reaching across her son’s back.

“What did Daddy say?” Marah implored, her voice dropping to a loud whisper.

Eden smiled. “Daddy said that it’s going to be interesting to see what’s going to happen with you and Mr. Stallion.”

“Actually, he said it’s going to be very interesting,” Marla interjected, her head bobbing against her shoulders.

“Can you believe the audacity of that man?” Marah questioned, her eyes flicking from one sister to the other. “And did you get a good look at his rear end? That man has a body to die for!”

In a flash, the memory of John Stallion and their elevator ride resurfaced. Marah could feel her body temperature rising rapidly, her breathing becoming static as she recalled the moment.

“What’s wrong with you?” Eden asked, eyeing her curiously. “You’re all flushed all of a sudden. You’re not getting sick on us are you? You can’t get sick, Marah. You have a dinner date tonight, remember?”

Marah did remember, a wave of anxiety sweeping through her. “I can’t go,” she said, her head waving emphatically from side to side.

“What’s going on?” Marla asked, leaning forward in her seat.

Marah swallowed hard before responding. “Stallion and I had a close encounter in the elevator of his offices this morning,” she said. “A very close encounter.”

Marla looked confused. “Why doesn’t that sound like it was good thing?”

“Oh, it was a very good thing. That’s part of the problem. I find him irresistible and that’s so wrong. He made me remember what I’m missing.”

Eden rose to her feet; Marla reached for her baby before doing the same. “You better go shower and get ready. I imagine that at least one of those Stallion brothers might be just what you’re looking for.”

The spray of hot water felt good on Marah’s bare skin. She was in dire need of relaxation and allowed herself to revel in the aromatic scent of the floral body wash in the steamy mist that billowed warmly around her. Leaning back against the shower wall, Marah relished the sensation of the tiles against her skin. Her senses had been off-kilter since her encounter with that man, her awareness of her own longings and desires more acute. The sensitivity was like nothing she could explain, the weight of it heavy in her feminine spirit.

Although she didn’t want to admit it, she still burned hot from his body heat, her skin feeling as if it were on fire. Her blood boiled as she thought about him, and Marah imagined that if it were at all possible her insides might easily combust. She could never admit to him that she wanted to feel him near her again, his body moving with hers. She shook her head vehemently, shaking the thoughts from her mind.

She stood still beneath the flow of warm liquid that rinsed the suds from her flesh. She had to have a game plan. She had to be ready to counter whatever John Stallion and his so-called executive board threw at her. She had to do whatever it took to regain some control and do what was in her father’s best interest.

Control. I have lost control, she thought. And if someone were to ask her how and why, she couldn’t begin to give them an answer. Something about that man, damn him, had made her lose control.

Marah heaved a deep sigh. Obviously, appealing to his sense of honor wasn’t going to do her any good. The man was clearly a snake in sheep’s clothing who had no honor. Or at least that’s what Marah was working hard to convince herself. As she stood thinking about the man and their very brief history together, the obvious suddenly shifted her mood and she found herself smiling.

This was going to be easier than she’d realized. John Stallion was, in fact, just a man. The look he gave her after she exited the elevator served to prove that he was a man who could easily be moved by a woman. And not just any woman, but a female like Marah Briscoe.

Marah grinned broadly, tilting her face into the flow of water. John Stallion might be the shark of all sharks, but Marah was a barracuda in her own right. A barracuda with the body of a goddess. John Stallion didn’t have a clue what was about to hit him.

Marah stood in the foyer of her family’s home, appraising the black stretch limousine that sat in wait in the driveway. Behind her, Eden shook her head, her gaze evaluating her baby sister’s wardrobe choice. Reaching into the foyer closet she dug through the coats and jackets until she found a lightweight silk shawl that she passed to Marah.

“Here, put this on,” Eden commanded. “Daddy is already in a mood about what you did. We don’t need him starting in about you and that tattoo.”

Marah rolled her eyes skyward, but took the garment from her sister’s hands and wrapped it around her shoulders to cover her back. She met Eden’s gaze, her mother’s eyes scolding her from her sister’s face. Her tattoos had always been a bone of contention between her and her family, her parents vehemently disapproving of her body art. She took a deep breath and then a second, blowing warm breath out slowly.

“Wish me luck,” she intoned, reaching out to hug the two women who had been her best friends since the day she’d been born. Their father’s booming voice sounded from the top of the stairwell.

“What’s luck got to do with anything?” he asked as he made his way down the stairs. “You’re playing in the big leagues now, Marah Jean. Them Stallion boys wheel and deal every day. They’re making multimillion dollar decisions for breakfast and spitting out the small players for lunch. They’re at the top of their game because they’re supersmart. You’re going to need your brain, munchkin. Not luck.”

His daughters stared at him, all three standing with their mouths wide open. Before either of them could say anything, his eyes narrowed into thin slits.

“Where’s the rest of your dress, young lady?” he asked, his stare racing the length of Marah’s body.

The young woman stammered, her mouth opening and closing as she sucked in air. She looked toward her sisters for help, heaving a sigh of relief when Marla came to her rescue.

“That’s the style now, Daddy. That dress is too cute on her!” she exclaimed, Eden nodding her agreement.

“Humph,” Edward grunted, not at all convinced.

Marah quickly changed the subject. “Where are you going?” she asked, admiring the black tuxedo he sported.

Eden reached to adjust the patriarch’s bow tie and collar. “You look quite dashing, Daddy,” she said.

Edward grinned. “Why thank you very much! And, I’m joining you for dinner,” he said to Marah as he extended his elbow in her direction, his palm pressed flat against his abdomen. “Shall we?”

Marah smiled back, her eyes wide with surprise as she pressed her arm through her father’s. “I’d be delighted, Mr. Briscoe,” she answered as she allowed him to guide her out the front door to the waiting vehicle. “Simply delighted!”