Poker Face (13 page)

“Thank you for the kind hospitality. One night will be enough. So
Megan…. you have a hot date tonight?”

“It’s not a date. It’s business.”

“Yeah, whatever you say sweetheart. How about we make a deal? If
you don’t come home tonight,” he winked, “I’ll crash in your bed, save everyone
the trouble from having to do the whole bed shuffle thing when it’s not
necessary.”

Drew watched her over the glass pressed to his lips. Coward. Speak
up. Where was the funny guy with the quick comebacks? She was certain he had it
in him. She’d heard him yell at his father on the phone. Why was he just
sitting there taking it?

“How about you just go back home, nobody wants you here,” she
supplied across the table.

Orange juice went down the wrong way, Drew choked, going into a
coughing fit. Mackenzie’s narrowed gaze stayed on her. Oh, he really did not
like her. Where did all that animosity come from?

“Now, now, no need to be rude hot-pants. You definitely got your
mother's temper, didn’t you?”

“Are you insinuating you know her?” Her and Drew’s gazes met and
held. She saw sympathy there instead of the mocking expression he usually wore
around her. Did he know? About her mother and his father? Oh no, this was
getting worse by the minute.

“I guess you could say your mother and I were
good
friends.”

Why did he emphasize the word good? She couldn’t see anyone being
his “friend”.
Good
or otherwise. Was that his way of saying he’d slept
with her mother? Her trembling hand went to her forehead. Please say it wasn’t
so. No. Her mother had only been in love with two men in her lifetime, Megan’s
father and Stratford. But sometimes sex had nothing to do with love and she
knew that.

“What’s with the long face pumpkin?” Mackenzie inquired.

“I’m having trouble believing my mother would go anywhere near
you.”

“I assure you… everyone has skeletons in their closet. Isn’t that
right son?”

Again, Drew shifted uncomfortably seated next to his father. “Do
you always have to start an argument?”

Mackenzie’s gaze narrowed on his son. “No argument here, would you
not agree no one is a saint? Except for maybe Birdie….breakfast was delicious
ma’am. Please let me help you clear the table.” He stood, and stretched for the
platter of scrambled eggs and bacon sitting in the center of the table.

Thank God breakfast was over. Megan doubted she could take the man
another second without exploding into a full blown fit of rage. How Drew
managed to live with his condescending father and survive was a true miracle.
Okay, Drew had a few issues from his weird upbringing with an even weirder
father, a new issue had been added to the list, fear of standing up to the man,
but she was starting to see all his issue’s paled in comparison to the cruel
man who most likely planted doubts of self-worth in his own son’s head on a
regular basis.

It was those thoughts that had her reaching across the table…

*****

“Here, I’ll take that for you,” Megan said her fingers grasping
the edge of his plate. Her delicate wrist was turned up and he felt the strong
urge to plant his warm lips on that beautiful wrist just to see her eyes go
wide with shock.

The rest of the day was pretty much the same, his father insulting
the house and all the people in it. Everything Drew had done the entire day was
wrong. He had failed at the one thing his father put stock in—a man’s ability
to control a woman. Come nightfall, Drew had never been so pleased to see the couch,
alone, the way he wanted it.

He was exhausted.

With a frustrated sigh he stripped down to his boxers and slid
under the blanket left out for him. Lying on his back he hooked an arm behind
his head, the other relaxed on his stomach as he closed his eyes. The
grandfather clock in the corner of room clicked off minutes, minutes he was
unable to sleep: tick, tick, tick, tick… his eyes flew open.

Shit, all he could think about was Megan and how she’d looked that
morning when she’d practically told his father to get lost. Her nostrils had
flared, her full lips compressed in a straight line, and somehow she’d managed
to still look amazingly sexy as hell. He loved that about her, the way her
temper spiked whenever she was passionate about something. Just thinking about
her gave him an instant hard on. It was torture, being in the same house with
her day after day. He’d never jacked off so much in his life: in the shower, in
his truck, hell he’d even jacked off in the barn, wherever he could steal a few
moments alone. His sex drive, since Megan came out to the ranch was worse than
it had been when he was a teenager. It’s as if he was addicted to touching his
damn self like some damn pervert on a park bench.

Knowing he’d never be able to sleep until he’d had some kind of
release, Drew moved the hand on his belly further down, released his erection
from his boxers, his long fingers circling his throbbing length. Damn. It felt
good. He sucked in a breath, and relaxed his legs, bending one at the knee. He worked
his hand up and down, using the beads of moisture gathering on the tip of his
penis as lubricant. He knew getting off this way only lessened his need, it
didn’t make it go away completely. He was afraid there was only one way to feel
fully satisfied, to be buried deep in a woman, and not just any woman, Megan.

The clock continued its agonizing clicking: tick, tick, tick…
while he stroked, slow at first, then faster. Soon, blocking out all
distractions, he closed his eyes, seconds away from having an orgasm….

His jaw flexed as he heard the creak of footsteps in the hall. He
immediately tucked his erection back inside his boxers, hooked the guilty hand
behind his head with the other one. What now? His father wanted to get in one
last jab? No. His father wouldn’t bother with being quiet. Drew felt a presence
and lifted his head to find Megan watching him.

“I’m warning you, Filly, I’m not in the mood to play.” Shit. How
much had she seen?

“I—I ugh…”

“Just spit it out so I can get to sleep.” Or back to doing more
productive things. He was still hard.

Her cheeks turned red as she tugged the pillow out from under his
head, and pulled the blanket off his nearly naked body, exposing flesh and a
pair of white boxers, filled out in the front. He shivered. “Shit… not this
game again. I told you, I’m not in a good mood. All I want is to close my eyes,
forget everything and everybody!” He gritted his teeth.

“Everybody?” Her eyes wandered to the front of his boxer. He
couldn’t resist smiling. If she only knew what he’d been doing right before
she’d walked in, even worse, to a mental picture of her naked.

She tucked the pillow and blanket under her arms and motioned for
him to follow.

Drew didn’t move. He was too stunned. She’d been acting weird all
day. Weird as in nice, a word not usually used to describe her, at least not a
word he used often. Now Bitch, Bitch had been a word on the tip of his tongue
whenever she was around, but not “nice”. Well, he had no covers or pillow, and
although he was tired he doubted he would be very comfortable curled up in a
ball all night, so after his hard on subsided, he did as he was told.

Megan tossed his pillow up on the bed and shook out the blanket
adding it to the others across the foot of the bed. It was a chilly night, a
cold front and rain settling in. Drew stood there with his arms crossed over
his chest trembling in his boxers as he watched her slide out of her jeans and
crawl under the covers. Seeing her in just a T-shirt and underwear gave him
something new to fantasize about.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, because he had to know before
he gave in.

“I can’t stand hearing your father make his little snide comments.
Hopefully he’ll wake up in the morning to find you no longer on the couch, and
back off.”

Drew couldn’t keep from smiling. “Megan, it’s not that simple.
Nothing with my father ever is.”

“I thought you were tired. Get in bed… your teeth are starting to
chatter.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. The sheets were cool. He couldn’t
stop shaking. It took him several moments to warm a spot; he inched over next
to Megan searching for some body heat. She lay on her side turned toward him,
instead of away from him like he was used to. Their faces were close enough he
could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her eyes were shut, her hands snuggled
up to her chin as if she’d already drifted off to sleep, but he knew she was
pretending, he could tell by her breathing, which seemed to increase the closer
he got. The moon was kind enough to light her features so he could admire them
at his leisure.

She really was beautiful without makeup. Why anyone would cover up
skin so flawless made no sense. He noticed the barely-there mole on her right
cheek, a beauty mark his mother had explained when he was younger and asked why
some people had moles and others did not. Her mouth parted as she drew an
uneven breath and his attention went immediately to her lips which were full,
pink and soft, kissable. He’d fantasized about those lips ever since their first
kiss. If he kept up with these thoughts his father would get exactly what he
wanted.

A corner of that gorgeous mouth quivered from her attempt to not
smile.

“I know you’re awake, Filly. You’re a horrible faker.”

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” Her eyes remained
closed.

“Maybe… does it bother you?”

Her eyes opened then and she studied his face with the same
interest. “No. Why didn’t you stand up to your father this morning?”

His jaw tensed at her question and for the first time since he’d
gotten into the bed with her he looked away. “I was afraid of what he might say
in front of you if I pushed him.”

She used a slender finger to turn his face towards her. “I don’t
take anything that man says too seriously. Why do you try so hard to be like
him?”

“It’s easier.” He simply said, then changed the subject, because
really, his father was the last person he wanted to discuss. “How did your date
go?”

“I couldn’t wait to get home… to talk to you. I get it, why the
ranch means so much to you, and why you don’t want me to sell it to just
anybody,” she sighed as if she had waited all day to say what she was about to
say, “I’m giving the ranch to Tink.’

The corners of his mouth edged up a fraction.

Drew wanted to have sex with this woman; raw passionate sex that
lasted all night long, over and over until he’d had his fill, which he feared
would be never. No, that wasn’t exactly true, he wanted to
make love
to
her, kiss and touch her in ways he’d fantasized about every moment since he’d
first met her.

Who his father was, what kind of man he was, and everything else
faded.

“Drew, did you hear me? Tink should have the ranch, do you not
agree?”

Yes. Hell yes! It was the smartest thing he’d ever heard anyone
say. The problem was…. Megan didn’t own the ranch. And Drew was still his
father’s whore.

Day Ten

“I got this! I don’t need your help. Just give me a second.” Megan
snapped, one foot in the stirrup, one hand on the saddle horn, the other
brushing the flies off Angel’s flank. She blew disobedient hair out of her face
and tried hoisting herself up again. “You sure she’s going to go for me riding
her? Or is this some attempt to watch me land on my ass.”

“Now why would I want to bring harm to such a fine ass?”

The remark was not totally unexpected, since Drew had been saying
things similar to it over the past couple of days, but Megan found it still
shocked her all the same. She threw a quick glance over at him, and sure enough
he was admiring her rear end, wearing a wicked smile that had her thinking of
naughty things. Her cheeks flooded with heat. Something had definitely shifted
between them: an unspoken truce, although now that they were no longer arguing,
all that unspent energy needed somewhere to go. She didn’t know how long she’d
be able to watch him set up on the black Arabian, wearing old worn out jeans
and a baby blue collared, button down. His dark hair was a sexy mess, like he’d
slept in the barn all night, although she knew that wasn’t true; he smelled
nothing like a horse, in fact, that was part of the reason she’d snapped when
he’d jumped down off his own horse to help her mount, because his subtle
cologne had her head spinning with desire.