Читать книгу The Playboy Meets His Match - Sara Orwig - Страница 10

Meredith Silver thrust out her chin stubbornly. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions,” she snapped. No man should look so sinfully handsome. He had black curly hair that he wore long, and it gave him a wild, dangerous look. His features were slightly rugged with a strong jaw, prominent cheekbones and straight nose. It was his thick lashes and blue-green eyes that had stopped her in her tracks in the kitchen.

Meredith wished she hadn’t stood there like a starstruck teen looking at a movie idol, because she suspected Jason Windover drew women the way flowers drew bees.

She glanced beyond him to study the windows. This was no fortress, although he had turned off an alarm system when they entered. She knew how to hot-wire a car, and later tonight she was getting out of this house and away from this man who was becoming a big interference in her life.

“I can still call the sheriff and have you locked up. This is a small town and most of us know each other pretty well. He can come up with some charges to hold you in a cell for a while.”

Her mind raced. She knew lawyers because she had solved computer problems for various ones, but not recently and she had never made lasting friendships with any of them. She didn’t know a single lawyer to call for help. Besides, compelling bedroom eyes were staring at her, an invisible push to get her talking.

“I’ve been trying to find Dorian Brady. Now I’ve found him and he’s telling everyone that I’m crazy and that everything I’m saying about him is a lie.”

“Well, is it or not?”

“I’m telling the truth, but he’s your friend and your good-ol’-boy fellow club member. Y’all are a bunch of snooty male chauvinists, and I know you’ll believe him over me, so what’s the point in even discussing this with you?” she said, becoming more annoyed as she talked because a twinkle had come into his eyes.

“What’s the point in slashing his tires?”

“I just want him to know that I’m here. That I’m in his life and I’m not going to go away. I want to cause that man some grief.”

“He knows you’re in his life, and you are causing him a little grief. But I’ll tell you what, all those good-ol’-boy male chauvinists have voted that I’m to keep you out of everybody else’s hair, so that’s just what I’m going to do. Tonight, you can just stay here under my roof until you simmer down. And tomorrow you can go back to wherever you came from.”

“That’s what you think, mister.”

“Jason is the name, remember?”

“Mister is sufficient. We’re not going to be friends.”

“Now that’s another challenge you’ve just flung at me,” he drawled, and she definitely saw the twinkle in his eyes that time.

Thrusting out her jaw, she leaned closer to him. “I will never be friends with a man like you, buster!”

He looked as if he was making an effort not to laugh out loud. He leaned close. “Why not, Meredith?”

Oh, my! She was going to have to watch it around this one. He was sexy and too handsome and his voice sent shivers skittering around inside her. And those bedroom eyes of his! She moved back and drew herself up. “I’m sure most women just melt when you bat your eyes at them, but I’m not melting, nor will I. I—”

“Challenge number three,” he stated, this time speaking in a slow drawl and looking at her with a speculative gleam in his eyes that made her draw a swift breath.

“I’m not flinging sexy challenges at you. I’m telling you. You probably can’t believe that a female in this whole big state of Texas is immune to your charm.”

“Darlin’,” he drawled in a tone that did curl her toes and sent a flash of heat that threatened to melt her, “I haven’t even begun to turn on any charm. Knocking the wind out of me doesn’t exactly draw out the best aspects of my personality.”

“You attacked me.”

“I stopped a vandal from escaping,” he reminded her. He took her wrist again. His brows arched. “Your pulse is racing, Meredith.”

She glared at him while crimson flooded her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s fright.”

“You—afraid?”

“There’s good reason to be,” she snapped, pointing at her scraped face and annoyed that her pulse was reacting to him in a wild, uncontrollable manner.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, and to her surprise, he sounded truly contrite. “Come on. Let’s get something to drink. I definitely want a drink.”

“I’ll come without you holding my hand,” she said, attempting to yank free.

“I think I want to keep one hand under control. You have a wicked punch there. Besides, I don’t want you heaving one of the family heirlooms at me and breaking some favorite vase.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

“Not much you wouldn’t.”

He was tall, broad-shouldered and a very sexy male. Having him hold her wrist made her nervous, even though his grip was light. When she had tried to get free, he had held her without effort, but she knew that wasn’t what bothered her. It was the physical contact with him, however slight, that set her pulse racing.

Maybe if she humored him until he locked her in a room—and she was certain that’s exactly what he would do sooner or later—then she could try to escape. Once they were in the kitchen, he released her wrist. While he pulled a cold beer out of the refrigerator, Meredith studied the windows and latches, which looked quite ordinary. And she had watched when he had turned off his alarm, so she could remember the series of numbers he had punched in. She was certain Jason wouldn’t think she’d try to escape, especially since they were so far from town. He had left his pickup near the back door and if she could get outside to his pickup, she would be on her way.

“Want some pop?”

“I am not drinking or eating with you.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, and turned to open the bottle of beer. They returned to the sofa where he sat too close for comfort. She could detect his aftershave, see the faint dark stubble on his jaw.

He set his beer on a coaster on the large cherrywood table standing in front of the sofa. He pulled off a boot and set it aside and then pulled off the other one. “We might as well get comfortable.”

She was half tempted to say she wanted to go to jail, but his house was cozy and there weren’t any bars on the windows and she stood a far better chance of escaping from this ornery Texan than she would from a jail.

“Now tell me why you want to cause Dorian grief.”

“He’s a wicked man. But I know you don’t believe a word I’m saying because he’s in your good-ol’-boy group.”

“Let me decide that.”

“One of my sisters was engaged to him.”

“He denies that. Do you have any proof?”

“Proof of their engagement? No, I don’t.”

“Did he give her a ring?”

“He told her that he was having his grandmother’s diamond ring reset. He kept putting off why it wasn’t ready and at the time, he sounded convincing. He can be charming and he’s good-looking and he’s clever. Everything sounded logical, so I didn’t doubt what my sister was telling me. Twice I had dinner with them, and I had him at our house,” she said. As Merry talked, she had to constantly gaze into those sexy eyes and she could hear how lame her story sounded. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in Jason’s expression, so she had no idea what he was thinking.

“Our house? Are you married?”

“No, I’m not. I live in an apartment in Dallas, but I go home often to the house where I grew up. My mom is a Dallas news anchor and I grew up in Dallas.”

“Another well-known family member.” He tilted his head to study her. “Your mom isn’t Serena Dunstan, is she?”

“Yes, she is. Her real name is Therese Silver, but Serena Dunstan is her professional name. How did you guess?”

“She’s the right age and she’s done some controversial reporting—and won awards. Hank Silver, Serena Dunstan—you’re from a whole family of feisty daredevils.”

“My sister Holly isn’t. She’s a little on the shy side.”

“I would have to see it to believe it,” he remarked dryly.

“Mom’s certainly more well-known than my brother. I’m really close to my three younger sisters, so I’m at our house most of the time. My youngest sister, Claudia, is in high school now, but she graduates this spring.”

“I hope she’s not the one Dorian was supposedly engaged to.”

“It isn’t supposedly,” Merry said darkly, knowing he was friends with the creep and wasn’t going to believe a word she said. “Dorian was engaged to Holly, who finished college early and has a great job as an engineer.”

“Do you have pictures of them together?”

“No, I don’t,” Merry answered flatly, realizing how flimsy her accusations were beginning to sound up against Jason’s practical questions. “There was always a reason why Dorian did or did not do something. When I wanted to take their pictures, he’d put me off and then we’d forget all about it.” The more she talked, the more her anger built again. “I thought Dorian just decided all of a sudden to dump her, but now that you’re asking all these questions—reasonable questions—he must have planned to do this from the very start. She really was in love with him,” Merry said, remembering Holly sobbing and shaking and refusing to eat far too many times. For the past few months she had watched her sister lose weight steadily.

“Holly believed Dorian and was taken in by him. She had bought a wedding dress—”

“No ring, but she bought a dress?” Jason asked doubtfully, as if Holly were lost in fantasies.

“I can’t tell you how believable he made it all sound.”

While blue-green eyes studied her, she wondered what was running through the lanky Texan’s mind.

“Men can be very convincing when they want to. Even in the biggest of lies,” she added.

A shuttered look altered Jason’s expression slightly. “I don’t think you should limit that to men,” he said in a cynical tone that surprised her.

“I can’t believe any woman ever hurt you. I’ll bet you draw them like flies to honey.”

The twinkle returned to his eyes. “Whatever makes you think that?” he asked with great innocence.

“Stop fishing for compliments! You know you’re a good-looking and sexy stud.”

“Son-of-a-gun, darlin’,” he drawled. “You will turn my head. So you think I’m a sexy stud?” The words rolled out like soft velvet sliding across her skin, and Meredith wished she hadn’t said anything. When would she learn just to keep quiet? But then, how could she sit in silence when he was looking at her with an eagle-eyed intentness that made her nervous and made her want to chatter?

“Why don’t we go out to dinner tomorrow night? I can drive to Dallas,” he said.

“Thank you, but I have other plans. And I’m not leaving Royal.”

“You have friends here in Royal?”

“No, I don’t know anyone except Dorian, and now you. I’m staying right here in Royal. You can’t make me leave town.”

“You plan to slash Dorian’s tires again?”

“No, I won’t,” she said, annoyed with him and trying to ignore the little nagging voice inside that wanted to accept his offer of a dinner date. “I wouldn’t tell you anyway, but I don’t have other plans. I just don’t care to go to dinner.”

He grinned, a full-fledged, heart-stopping grin with perfect white teeth, and she tried to catch her breath and not stare. With an effort she shifted her gaze to her fingers laced together in her lap. She had just turned down a date with that grin. Just sitting there doing nothing, the man was handsome, but when he smiled, he was to-die-for gorgeous. His smile could melt the coldest heart. She just knew it had better not melt hers. And she knew he had an ulterior motive in asking her to dinner because he was trying every which way to learn her plans about Dorian and to keep her away from him.

“I’m sure you’re unaccustomed to any female turning down an offer of a date with you, but I’m not interested.”

“Well, in that case, we’ll sit right here at my house. You can go with me tomorrow to pick out a computer and we’ll have dinner at home and you can help me set up a new computer—”

“You’re kidnapping me!”

“No, I’m not. You’re free to go. You want to leave, I’ll take you straight to the sheriff. After all, I caught you in a criminal act.”

She glared at him. “I don’t want to go to jail. I’ll think about it tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to go to jail, either. My house is far more comfortable, and I’m better company that any of those deputies and you can have something to eat or drink whenever you want.” He gave her a speculative look. “You know, men have been breaking women’s hearts and vice-versa since the beginning of time. Your sister got jilted by a low-down lying rascal—as you would say—but that happens. When it does, you pick up and go on with life.”

She bristled. “How easy that is for you to say! You’re a playboy and I’m sure you’re incredibly experienced at breaking hearts. I’ll bet you’ve left a path strewn with them back to when you were just out of elementary school.”

“Grade school? I don’t think so!” he said and rewarded her with another fabulous grin.

“And I’ll bet no female has ever broken your heart. So don’t even talk to me about how unimportant a broken heart is!”

He tilted his head. “Another swift punch—somewhat undeserved, I think. I’ve always made it clear that I’m not a marrying man. I’m not into commitment and I always state that up front. I have never been engaged to anyone and never hinted at engagement. So don’t lump me in with broken promises of engagement. There’s a difference. Anyone who dates me knows exactly how I feel about marriage. I’m very open about it. Most of the women I date feel just the way I do.”

“Why aren’t you a marrying man, if I may ask?”

Again, she caught that brief shuttered look and a muscle working in his jaw. He had some touchy point, something that had happened to him that had soured him on marriage.

“My brothers have had disastrous marriages that have torn apart their lives and hurt their children. I don’t ever want to go through that.”

She suspected there was more to the story than he was telling her, but they were little more than strangers and she could understand why he would be reluctant to tell her about himself. As he talked, he unbuttoned his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. She didn’t think he was aware of what he was doing, but she was certainly aware of the slight glimpse of a tanned, well-sculpted chest.

“Those sweats may be rather warm for this time of year. Want something more comfortable?”

“That would be nice,” she said and he stood, reaching down to take her wrist.

“You don’t have to hold me.”

“Only your wrist. I can keep up with you better this way,” he answered lightly, but it made her stand closer to him than was comfortable. He had to be a couple of inches over six feet tall. The top of her head reached his shoulder and she felt as if tiny currents of electricity were jabbing her when she was close to him. The prickly awareness put her on edge because it was so uncustomary for her. What was it about him that caused the sparks? Surely not just his movie-star looks. She shouldn’t be susceptible to bedroom eyes and a high-wattage grin. Something about him had her heart skipping way too fast and she could just imagine the broken hearts he had in his past.

They entered a large hallway decorated with Western art and he directed her back across the kitchen to another hallway. “The east wing of the house has spare bedrooms, my office and a workout room. We don’t use these bedrooms unless everyone is home.”

“Who is everyone?”

“My brothers and their families. They’ve remarried and have kids. We spend a lot of time here,” he said switching on lights and she entered another large, comfortable room with leather-upholstered furniture. A pool table was in the center of the room with a Ping-Pong table in a far corner and an immense stone fireplace along one wall. A wide-screen television stood at one end and one wall was lined with shelves filled with books. Two large gun racks were against another wall with an antique sword mounted over the fireplace.

“I can see why. You have everything you need here at home.”

“Not quite,” he drawled, and she knew he was referring to a woman companion.

“Don’t you get lonesome here?” The moment she asked, she knew it was a ridiculous question, and she answered before he could. “I know you don’t get lonesome anywhere. I’m sure I’m keeping you from some woman’s company tonight, and I’ll bet she’s quite unhappy about it.”

“No, I told you. There’s no one in my life right now.”

“If there’s not, she must be only a day away. I can’t imagine you going ten minutes without a woman close at hand.”

“Tonight I’ve got you, darlin’,” he drawled lightly, and she knew he was teasing her.

“And I know full well you didn’t want me.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just assigned to keep you out of trouble.”

“To keep me away from Dorian is the truth. You can’t watch me forever.”

“Nope, I surely can’t, but for tonight I can do my assignment.”

She was acutely aware of his fingers still circling her wrist. Moving close at her side, he led her to another large room where he switched on a light. “Here’s my office.”

“What a beautiful desk.” When she wriggled her arm, he released her. As soon as he did, she crossed the room to look closer at the satinwood-and-ebony desk. “This looks old.”

“It is. My grandfather brought it home from Europe on one of his travels. I’ve tried to add some antiques to this home since I’ve had the house.”

“This is a beautiful desk,” she said, running her fingers along the smooth wood. Antique glass-fronted cases held books, but before she could read the titles, he took her arm lightly and led her back through the kitchen toward the center of the house and the west wing. “We’ll be staying in this end of the house.”

While they sauntered down the hall, Meredith considered escape. Maybe if he drank a few more beers, he would sleep dead to the world and her escape would be even easier.

“I’m surprised you don’t keep a dog out here.”

“There are several dogs on the ranch, but they’re down at the bunkhouse with the men.”

“Don’t tell me dogs don’t like you.”

He glanced at her with amusement in his eyes again. “I get along fine with the dogs. They’re just shut in the bunkhouse at the moment. Want me to get one of them up here?”

“Heavens, no! I just found it unusual to be out in the country and not see a dog.”

“Well, city girl, the dogs are here. I’ll show you tomorrow. Right now, I’ll show you around the house. Here’s the dining room.”

She looked at a large room with a Texas-size carved, mahogany table that held ten chairs on each side and two arm chairs at each end. A sparkling crystal chandelier caught the light and silver gleamed on the buffet. Another brick fireplace was at one end of the room.

“Do you actually eat in here?”

“Sure. The table is over one hundred years old and my great-great-grandfather had ten kids. The Windover descendants are all over Texas. We have big family get-togethers, and each of my brothers has four kids, so that’s at least twelve people when they come home. There’s a guest cottage in back for the overflow.”

“What about your parents?”

Again she caught the briefest shuttered look before he turned his head away and switched off the dining-room light. They moved down the hall. “My parents were divorced. I haven’t seen my mother since childhood, and my dad died last year.”

“I’m sorry you lost your father. My dad died when I was eleven.”

“I miss my dad,” he said gruffly. “Eleven must have been a rough age to lose your father.”

“It was, but my parents were always very involved with each other and not as much with us kids. Particularly my mom. My mother was just not meant to be a mother. I was always mother to my sisters and that was all right with me and good for Mom. Dad helped with the girls.”

“So you were mother to your sisters. Was your brother Hank the second dad?”

“Hardly,” she answered dryly. “Hank’s wild. When Dad died, Hank got more wild. He’s in trouble half the time and he’s out of touch with the family. I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

“I sort of remember that he’d been in some scrapes,” Jason said politely, and she could imagine that if he knew her brother, he knew some of the predicaments Hank had been in.

“If you know Hank, you must ride in rodeos.”

“I used to, but I haven’t had time in the past few years. I was a saddle bronc rider. I did a few months of bull-riding, broke my arm and quit.”

“I don’t know how many bones Hank has broken.”

“Here’s the living room,” Jason said, switching lights on in a formal room that was exquisitely furnished and looked as if no one ever used it, much less a houseful of men. It was the one room that did not appear to hold any antique furniture, and it struck a slightly strange note with the rest of the house.

“This is a nice room,” she said, noticing that the blue satin drapes were faded, but still looked elegant.

“Yeah, well, we don’t spend time in here,” he said, switching off the lights. His voice was harsh, and she realized there were undercurrents in his family that he didn’t talk about. She suspected he didn’t talk about a lot of the facets of his life. She was beginning to decide the real Jason Windover might be hidden from the world.

“Here are the bedrooms,” he said, switching on lights and moving down the hall as she looked into rooms that were spacious, masculine and comfortably furnished. “My bedroom is the master bedroom at the end of the hall and I’m going to put you in here tonight, right next to me, so I can hear you.”

He switched on a light and crossed to the closet. She looked at an elaborate Louis XVI bed of dark, hand-carved mahogany. A tall chiffonier matched the bed. The room had pale-green and off-white colors, and, as she looked around, she wondered how many other women had stayed in it.

He tossed out a cotton robe. “Here’s a robe. I’ll give you some of my T-shirts so you can get into something cooler. There’s the bathroom and towels are in the cabinet. Change and we’ll get something to eat.”

She nodded and he motioned to her. “First, come see my bedroom, and I’ll give you the T-shirts.”

She followed him to a spacious bedroom with a brick fireplace, shelves of books, another large television, a tall, rosewood armoire with an ornate cheval glass beside it. A second keypad for the alarm system was in his room, so he could switch it on or off from either end of the house. A king-size four-poster bed dominated one end of the room and a stack of books stood on a table beside the bed. She strolled over to see what he read and looked at titles about the Second World War.

“You like history.”

“Yes,” he answered while he rummaged in a drawer and handed her a stack of folded T-shirts. “My grandfather was in the landing at Normandy in the Second World War. He kept a diary of sorts and because of that, I got particularly interested in that war.”

Jason thrust the pile of shirts into her hands.

“Thanks. I’ll need only one.”

“Take them all. After we say good-night, don’t try to leave the house. I have the alarm turned on. If you open a door or a window, it will trigger the alarm. When we go to bed, I’ll change the setting and the alarm will go off if you step into the hall. You’re in a cell here. It’s just much nicer than the one in Royal.”

She nodded again, left his room and went to hers, closing the door behind her. She showered and washed her hair. She found a dryer and dried her hair. It had a natural curl and was unruly, but tonight she didn’t care. She pulled on a navy T-shirt and slipped back into her sweatpants and then left to find him, returning to an empty family room and then going to the kitchen where he was making sandwiches.

He glanced over his shoulder and then turned to look more carefully at her, and she wished she were back in the lumpy sweatshirt. The T-shirt clung, and the look he was giving her was making her tingle all over.

“My goodness, Meredith, you clean up good.”

“My friends call me Merry,” she said breathlessly, knowing she needed to re-engage her brain. The man was definitely not one of her friends. Nor would he ever be one.

He crossed the room to her, stopping only inches away, and she hoped he couldn’t hear her drumming heartbeat.

“So we’re going to be friends,” he drawled in that deep, sexy voice. He reached out to touch her hair, letting locks slide through his fingers, and she was aware of the faint contact. “That’s interesting.”

“I spoke before I thought,” she admitted.

“You don’t want to be friends?”

“I don’t think it’s possible.”

He focused on her face, moved closer and tilted up her chin. She was too aware of his finger holding her chin, too aware of all of him. “I am sorry about your scraped cheek and hands. You shouldn’t ever have something like that happen. I hate that I caused your scrapes and bruises. I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she said, wishing he would move away, but unable to move herself. Another one of his riveting looks nailed her and she gazed back, too aware of the silence stretching between them. “You’re standing too close,” she said, aware she was hemmed in by him and the kitchen cabinets behind her.

“I am? I disturb you?”

“You’re not adding me to your list of broken hearts, Jason, so just move back and give me room.”

“All those challenges,” he said quietly without moving an inch, placing his hands on the cabinets on both sides of her and moving even closer. “Now do you really expect me to ignore them?” he asked softly. “You’re the one who brought them up.”

“I didn’t mean any of them as challenges to you. I’m not impressed. I’m not interested. I don’t want to go to dinner or anything else with you.”

“You might hurt my feelings.”

“There’s no way I can do that,” she said, finding every word more difficult to get out. He stood entirely too close and he was entirely too handsome. And she was being far less than truthful when she told him she wasn’t impressed. Oh, my. She’d bet the house that his kisses would melt any recipient into a bubbling blob.

“I have a heart that can be broken just like anyone else’s.”

“I think your heart is locked away behind impervious armor and no woman will ever get to touch it.”

He ran his finger along her throat, a faint touch that sizzled. “I’m not invincible.”

“I don’t care to find out. I think you said we were going to drink something,” she reminded him, trying to look away and glancing first at his mouth, fleetingly wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Why would she wonder something like that about a man like Jason Windover? Had her brain gone completely to mush?

“Oh, sure,” he answered as if that were the last thing on his mind. “What would you like?”

“Just some pop.”

He moved away, and she could breathe again. Watching him as he walked around the kitchen, she was thankful his attention had shifted from her. He brought her pop poured over ice in a tall glass, and he carried another beer and she hoped it would knock him out for the night, yet he had a way of slowly sipping them that made them last.

Finally they were settled back on the sofa in the family room. Jason sat too close with one arm stretched on the back of the sofa and one leg bent, his knee on the sofa only inches from her thigh. He offered her a sandwich which she declined. He helped himself.

“I think you should forget about Dorian and go home,” he said, taking a bite of his cheese sandwich.

“Maybe so.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just patronizing me until I’m out of your sight. You can’t change him. You can’t accomplish anything. You’re just a fly buzzing around his head annoying him.”

“Maybe that’s all, but he deserves to be annoyed.”

“Merry, I said it before and I’ll say it again. Women have jilted men and broken their hearts. Men have jilted women and broken their hearts. When it isn’t a deep commitment, you just pick up and get over it.”

“I’m sure that’s the philosophy of your life,” she said, becoming aggravated with him again. “My sister is losing weight. She’s broken-hearted. Her work is getting neglected. Her life is suffering.”

“She’s got to get over him. Introduce her to new guys,” he said, finishing his sandwich and taking a sip of beer.

“She doesn’t want to meet any guy right now.”

“I’ll repeat, when there hasn’t been too deep and too lasting a commitment, then broken hearts mend.”

“Thanks, Abby, for that bulletin.”

“It’s the truth. They weren’t married. They hadn’t known each other for years.”

“That’s so easy for you to say! She’s heartbroken and I want him to know he can’t walk all over someone and then turn his back and walk away. I want to cause him some grief. He’s hurt her and taken her money—”

Jason turned to look at her. “Dorian took money?”

“Yes. Holly didn’t have a lot, but she’s very thrifty. She has a good job and she’s saved quite a bit for having just been out of a college a few years.”

“Are you certain he took her money?”

“Now you’re interested,” Merry said, once again annoyed with him. “Money’s important to you, but Holly’s broken heart isn’t.”

“There’s a difference. If he took money, he may have broken the law,” Jason said quietly, and she realized she had his undivided attention now.

“Tell me exactly what Dorian did,” Jason said.