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“Why am I here?”
“Why are you leaving?”
“I’m not. Who said that?”
“Isaac. Said I was a fool, and you accepted that job offer. If anyone’s the fool, it’s you.”
I give him a little shove and he captures my hand, holding it against his warm, solid chest where his heart beats strong, if a little erratic. Almost like he’s nervous.
But this is Leland Conley. Master of confidence, true alpha, a man who sees what he wants and takes by seduction. I don’t think nervousness is in his vocabulary.
He rubs his thumb slowly over my fingers.
“Me?”
“Yeah,” he says, “you. Running instead of sticking around to see. Thing is, I’m here to keep you from mistakes.”
“You are?”
His touch is pure seduction. I’m meant to be mad at him for basically pushing me away, and now he’s calling me an idiot? Men make no sense. Especially this one.
“You look confused. And yes, I’m going to save you from mistakes. I’m not about to let you go. Also, you owe me a real dance.”
Without letting me go, he slides his other hand around my waist, and we slow dance to the romantic songs on the radio. His cheek next to mine, and his honey and tobacco lead scent winding about me.
“Sweet Sarah,” he says against my ear. “You can’t go.”
“I’m not.”
But he isn’t listening, and I’m pressed against him. It’s like his heartbeat is mine, as it thrums through me, that erratic beat getting a little faster almost like my own when I’m unsure and this close to him.
“Isn’t this better? Dancing for real instead of verbally?”
We sway together, and I close my eyes. I’m going to have to end this. I’m in love with him, and he doesn’t want a future when I think I do. No, I love him, and that means I want a future with him. It’s time for me to move up or out. Not out of town, but outof this. Because otherwise, if I don’t, it’s going to kill me when he finally sees someone else he wants.
“Leland . . .”
“Look at me, Sarah.”
Slowly, I do, and he sighs.
I try and pull free, but he doesn’t release me.
“Oh Christ, do you break my heart when you look a little broken.”
This time, I manage to get free. Or he releases me. Something tells me it’s the latter. It hurts. I can’t tell myself it doesn’t. He didn’t even try and steal a few more seconds.
“Can you take me back, please?”
“Fuck no. We’re gonna have this out and then I’m going to make love to you.” He reaches out and hooks a finger in the front of my dress, pulling it away from my breasts as he peers down.
“Leland.”
I slap at him, but he laughs and lets go of the dress. When he meets my gaze, his eyes are pure, molten amber, and I start that familiar ache between my thighs.
“Oh, holy fuck, sweet Sarah. Jesus. That lace. Do the panties match?” He tugs at the skirt of the dress and sweeps it up, to expose my upper thighs and the edge of the stockings. He drops it down. “You’re trying to kill me. Stockings? You’re my walking fantasy. I don’t even have to look at the panties to know it’s a set. You . . .”
“Please take me back and stop manhandling me. I . . . it’s over.”
