More Than a Mistress

As for Sara’s heart, he had no desire to claim it. He wanted her body. And he just wanted to borrow it until he got her out of his system. It had become a matter of survival, and it would be his greatest pleasure to make sure Sara got as much out of their affair as he did. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Carly?”

“Come in,” Carly called.

Sara pushed open the door, holding a stack of papers. “I need to clarify something on this contract with—” She saw Daniel and promptly dropped the papers.

“Oh my.” Distressed, Sara dropped to her knees. She wasn’t a fumbler. She made it a point not to fumble, trip or fidget. It was all part of the cool, competent image she worked hard to project. That cool, competent image covered a boatload of vulnerability and self-doubt. The senator had helped her acquire a poise that lifted her beyond her seedy background. But the last few days, to her chagrin, she’d been a total klutz, all because of Daniel Pendleton.

Suddenly Daniel was beside her on the floor, collecting the papers. “Here, let me help you.”

“No. That’s okay.” Past caring that the papers were out of order, she gathered them together in her hands as quickly as possible. “I think I’ve got them now.”

She stood; Daniel followed. She could feel his gaze on her, and an awkward silence hummed between them.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shove his hands into his pockets. She wondered what that gesture meant. She’d once read an article about how body language often told the truth more than a person’s words did.

“Since I was in town today,” Daniel ventured, “I was wondering if either of you ladies would like to have lunch with me. I thought I’d try one of those places on the wharf.”

Carly sighed, shaking her head. “Count me out.” She pointed toward the desk. “All you have to do is take a look at my desk.”

Relieved that Carly had paved the way so nicely for her, Sara shrugged. “I brought a sandwich to eat at my desk, so…”

Carly looked contrite. “Sara, don’t feel like you’ve got to miss lunch just because I’m working. You’ve stayed late every night this week.”

Sara shook her head. “But—”

“I’m beginning to feel like Simon Legree and Scrooge all rolled into one. Please. Appease my guilt and go.”

Feeling cornered, Sara glanced at Daniel, then back at Carly. “Are you sure? I’m so distracted with these contracts, I’m sure I’ll be rotten company.”

“I’m sure,” Carly said.

Daniel hitched one dark eyebrow in amusement. Sara knew he could tell she was trying to get out of it. “I’m sure too,” he said in a low, taunting voice.

And he was, Sara thought. Daniel Pendleton was always insufferably sure of himself. It was one more reason for her not to like him. “I’ll get my coat,” she said reluctantly, deciding to order something that could be eaten quickly.

To her dismay they ended up at the Cimarron Rose, where barbecued baby back ribs, onion-ring loaves and gooey cinnamon rolls were the order of the day.

“A salad,” she said firmly.

“Anything else?” the waitress asked.

“No. Just a salad.”

Daniel frowned for a moment, then gave his order—an entire rack of those baby back ribs along with crab legs and a baked potato.

Sara reconsidered her choice. There was no reason to deprive herself of some of her favorite foods just because she was eating with Daniel. It wasn’t as if they were sharing a candlelight dinner for two in the privacy of her home. That thought gave her a jolt.

The waitress sent Daniel a broad smile and started to leave.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Sara said quickly, not meeting Daniel’s gaze. “I’d like an onion-ring loaf, a half rack of baby back ribs, Western-style sauce and a baked potato.” She closed the menu. “Please.”

“Sure you don’t want crab legs?” Daniel asked after the waitress left. He wore a subtle, teasing grin.

“No.” Sara chewed her lip to keep from smiling back at him, but failed. “If I eat any more, you’ll have to wheel me out of here in a cart.”

Daniel’s gaze fell over her in assessment. “I wouldn’t need a cart to carry you even if you tripled your order. Not with your weight.”

“You have no idea what my weight is,” Sara said, turning the subject away from the notion of him “carrying” her.

“Bet I could guess.”

The way he said it caused a tickling sensation in her stomach. She usually squashed this kind of flirty conversation. It was too personal, and she needed to keep her distance. But something about him, the I-dare-you-lady expression, made her want to accept the little challenge. “Okay. Winner gets the onion-ring loaf.”

His eyes widened. “High stakes. How close do I have to get?”

Sara stared at him, feeling her pulse leap. Close.

“In pounds,” he clarified.

Her mind going blank with relief, she pulled a figure out of nowhere. “Two pounds.”

“Oooh. That’s tough.” He shook his head. “I’ll give it a try.”

That was when Sara realized this conversation had been a huge error. Daniel’s gaze measured her neck, and she felt the warmth of it as if his hands gently touched her skin. He studied the width of her shoulders down her white silk blouse to her elbows. Then she watched the motion of his eyes as they moved to the bow that rested against her throat.

Sara’s breath hung suspended while, ever so slowly, that violet gaze lowered to assess her breasts. Beyond her lacy bra his gaze caressed like fingers, cupping the weight of her, testing her softness. Sara felt a stinging arousal shoot straight to her nipples. Her face flamed with heat, and she nearly grabbed a napkin to hide herself.

Daniel stared straight at the center of her swollen breasts.

Sara bit her lip. Unable to stand his scrutiny any longer, she crossed her arms. “Time’s—”

“One hundred and seventeen pounds,” he said in a rough voice, reaching for his water glass. “One nineteen after you’ve just gotten out of a shower and you’re soaking wet.”

He sounded as if that last idea appealed to him. How had this discussion gotten so intimate? “How on earth did you guess?” she choked out.

He gave a chuckle and shook his head. “You wouldn’t like my answer.”

“Why?”

“Because my expertise comes from hauling bags of feed and sizing up livestock.”

“So,” Sara said, knowing she should be insulted, but smothering laughter instead, “as a point of reference for guessing my weight, you used cows and horses.”

Daniel grinned. “You’re exaggerating. More like pigs and goats.”

This time Sara laughed. She couldn’t help it.