in her in California when she'd found herself trapped in
someone else's nightmare. Tonight was indeed a celebration of the
new beginnings she had been creating for herself in Dallas.
The thought made her shift slightly, seeking the reassuringly
solid planes of August's chest. Dreamily she rubbed her cheek on
the crisp white cotton of his shirt and allowed her fingers to
gently knead the smooth, firm lines of his back. He felt like a
well-muscled stallion beneath her touch. A little restless, surely
hot-blooded, and excitingly strong. Her light laughter was muffled
against his chest.
"Now what?" Matt inquired huskily.
"I was just thinking that I've always wanted a horse of my own.
That's all." A wonderful, spirited stallion. She smiled secretly.
The remark threw off his careful footwork. "It sounds like some
kind of adolescent sexual fantasy."
Sabrina's mouth curved. "Perhaps it is."
"One you haven't outgrown?" he asked disapprovingly.
"Oh, I've sublimated."
"How?"
"With an Alfa Romeo GTV-6. If you ever come to Dallas I'll give
you a ride in it. Beautiful car. I love it."
"How did you get the car?" he asked curtly.
Sabrina's languid amusement faded. "I bought it myself. Want to
see the pink slip?"
"That wouldn't prove anything, would it? If someone else bought
it for you he would probably have had it put in your name."
Sabrina hesitated a fraction of a dance beat, enough to ruin the
carefully plotted rhythm Matt had established. Both of them came
to an awkward halt in the middle of the floor. "And you're
thinking of him and that bothers you."
His mouth tightened. "Of whom?"
"Someone you imagine is waiting for me back in Dallas, perhaps?"
she suggested gently.
"Is there someone?"
"No."
"Oh, hell. Never mind." He pulled her back into the predictable
pace of the dance. "Don't say anything else. Just come here and
I'll promise to keep my mouth shut, too."
He was worried, Sabrina decided compassionately. He was concerned
about her obligation to another man. It wasn't the first time he'd
mentioned it. It was none of his business, but she found his touch
of conscience endearing. Part of some male code of ethics, no
doubt—no poaching on another man's territory. She sighed. Her
fingers slipped along his shoulders as she wordlessly tried to
convey that he was the only one she was thinking of tonight.
"Do you want another drink?" Matt asked as the music faded. He
moved Sabrina off the dance floor with what seemed suspiciously
like a sense of relief. She guessed he wasn't particularly fond of
dancing. It was gracious of him to indulge her.
"No. I think I've had enough." She was feeling pleasantly high, a
little nervous but also rather excited. "Would you care to take a
walk through the gardens?"
He shrugged but his arm closed around her shoulders and he led
her out into the heavily landscaped grounds of the hotel.
Moonlight gleamed on the bay, and the lights of a cruise ship
anchored in the harbor sparkled brilliantly; an exotic string of
jewels floating on velvet. Matt's arm felt warm and heavy around
her and Sabrina leaned languidly against his side. He was hard and
strong. The flat planes of his thigh were unyielding. She wanted
to let herself glide over that hardness, feel the thrust of it
against her.
"Picturing me in a saddle and bridle?"
"Never." She laughed. Deliberately Sabrina came to a stop and
turned in the circle of his arm. Their eyes met in the moonlight,
and she refused to reconsider her plans. Slowly she lifted her
arms to his shoulders, her fingertips finding the soft hair at the
nape of his neck.
"Matt?"
"You want me, don't you?" he breathed.
"Yes." It was the truth and it was clear in her eyes. "Do you
want me?"
"I'd be a fool to turn you down, wouldn't I? Oh, yes, Sabrina. I
want you." He lowered his head when she used her fingertips on the
juncture of his shoulders. "You're so sure you know what
Gene Wentz, B. Abell Jurus