Читать книгу To Love a Stallion - Deborah Mello Fletcher - Страница 8

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.

As she’d been doing every evening before retiring for the night, Juanita Hilton dialed the private number she’d been dialing for months. As it rang, she couldn’t help but think back on everything that had happened over the course of the evening. When Edward answered his line she was anything but happy with him.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Edward.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“I told you that you need to tell the girls about us. Poor Marah. That child looked like she was ready to cry.” She paused as the man drew a deep sigh on the other end. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, Juanita. When John extended the invitation I just thought it would be as good a time as any for Marah to see us together.”

“This was not the proper way for you to introduce me to your child.”

“You’re right. I should have warned her first.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“Do you still love me?” Edward asked, his voice dropping low on the other end of the telephone.

Juanita giggled, the length of her gray hair waving from side to side. “Don’t be silly, Edward Briscoe. Of course I still love you.”

The man smiled through the receiver, the brilliance of it seeming to flow over the line. “Good, because I love you, too.”

“Do you have any plans for dinner on Thursday?” he asked, shifting his body against the pile of pillows atop his bed.

“I would love to have dinner with you,” Juanita responded. “Are you asking me?”

“I am. In fact, I would be honored if you would come have dinner here at the house with me and my family. I would like to introduce you to my children.”

“Are you sure about that, Edward?”

The man nodded as though she could see him. “It’s past time, Juanita. I’ve asked you to be my wife. I don’t want to keep our relationship a secret any longer.”

The woman nodded slowly. “I would love to meet your children, Edward.”

“Thursday, then.”

“Thursday it is. Sweet dreams, Edward.”