The Playboy Meets His Match. Sara Orwig

Was this some ex-lover of Dorian’s, and he didn’t want to admit it?

      “Settle down, wildcat. Fighting won’t do you any good. You’re not catching me by surprise ever again.”

      In the darkness he could see her jaw lift in a stubborn gesture. “That’s what you think. Let me go. I can charge you with assault—”

      “Hardly,” he stated dryly. “I just caught you in a criminal act.” She wiggled, struggling to break free, but it was having a far different effect on him. Jason had been a longer time than usual between women. She was soft, curvaceous and she was squirming and gyrating against him. His body was pressed over hers, pinning her down, but she was doing things that were setting him on fire in spite of his annoyance.

      “Wildcat, do you know what you’re doing?” he rasped.

      She stilled instantly, and he knew she had become aware of his natural male response to a warm, sweet-smelling female rubbing sensuously against him.

      When he reached down with his free hand and unbuckled his belt, her struggles became wild. Swiftly, he yanked his belt free, bound her wrists together and secured her to the door handle. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re just not going anywhere. You’ve caused enough trouble around here. Now, you make a choice. I take you home with me— I lock you in a room by yourself for tonight. I have no evil intentions, I promise. Tomorrow you go on your way and get out of Royal. Or I can take you to the sheriff. You decide.”

      Why he was taking her home with him, he wasn’t altogether certain about, except he had been assigned to keep her out of the way of the rest of the club members, and it was the best way to keep an eye on her.

      She struggled, and Jason tightened his grip. “Look, you’re just going to get yourself in deep trouble. There are laws against stalking someone—”

      “Stalking! I’m not stalking that rotten lowlife varmint. He’s mean and vindictive and dishonest.”

      Jason was intrigued. “I’ve given you a choice. Make your decision. Or it’ll be the sheriff because I’d be glad to dump you into someone else’s lap.”

      They were both breathing hard—his ragged breath was not from exertion. Erotic thoughts were tempting him and she was the cause. She might be five feet of trouble, but she was definitely all woman and a very sweet-smelling one at that. Jason fished a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe the black stuff off her forehead.

      “How do I know you won’t hurt me?” she asked so softly that he had to lean closer. And got another deep whiff of her perfume. A little pesky wildcat shouldn’t wear seductive perfume.

      “You have my word on it,” he said, and she gave a bitter laugh. “The sheriff or my house,” he repeated.

      “Your house,” she whispered, her breath sweet, lightly brushing his skin.

      Keeping up his guard, he moved away and fished for his keys, starting the pickup. Now she was hunched into a ball in the corner between the door and the back of the seat. As he drove out of the lot, he glanced at her again. She looked pitiful all huddled over, but his bruised midriff warned him not to be taken in by appearances. This was not a cringing, frightened little waif. The wildcat had a punch that had knocked him flat.

      Jason worked out over an hour every day. He shouldn’t have been felled by a blow from a female of her size, and he vowed he would increase his workouts tomorrow.

      He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a flask of whiskey, opening it and offering it to her. “Need a drink?”

      “Now you want to get me drunk so you can have your way with me,” she snarled.

      “Great grief,” he grumbled, wanting a stiff drink himself, but resisting, since he was driving.

      “Where did you get your vocabulary—out of some 1920s dime novel? Outside of melodramas, I didn’t know anyone used that phrase have your way with me.”

      “You’re too young yourself to know anything about 1920s dime novels, and I certainly don’t. And you know full well what I meant.”

      “I gave you my word. You’re not my type anyway.”

      “I can imagine your type.”

      He glanced at her again, his curiosity growing. Silence stretched between them as he drove down Main Street, Royal, Texas, the place where he had grown up and lived a good part of his life. “So, what type do you imagine I’d like?” he asked finally.

      “Someone beautiful, sexy, sophisticated and easy. Real easy.”

      Amused, he looked at her, still unable to see anything except a huddle of black.

      “You don’t think I have any charm to win over someone who isn’t easy?”

      “You tackled me twice,” she said in the same haughty, aloof tone that he could recall early grade-school teachers lecturing him with. “That isn’t a winning approach.”

      “I wasn’t trying a winning approach. I never intended seduction. I was trying to stop a criminal act. That’s not a fair judgment of me,” he remarked, amused by her in spite of his annoyance at being saddled with responsibility for keeping her away from the others.

      He drove past Pine Valley, the exclusive, private-gated, residential community that held mansions, including one belonging to his family where his brother was currently residing. Jason could take her there, but he preferred her out on the Windover Ranch—far enough out of town so that she would have a hell of a hike if she decided to run away.

      “It might be a good idea if we knew each other’s names. I’m Jason Windover.”

      “I’m Meredith Silver,” she said.

      “Well, hi, Meredith. Where are you from?”

      “I’m from Dallas,” she said.

      “And what do you do in Dallas?” he asked, slipping into old patterns of interrogation, avoiding the hot topics or accusations.

      “I’m a computer programmer. I’m a freelance consultant.”

      “Interesting profession—and gives you freedom to keep your own hours sometimes.”

      “Yes, it does,” she answered while she stared out the window. “We’re out of town.”

      “I’m taking you to the Windover family ranch.”

      “You’re a cowboy?”

      “Yes, I am. I’ve been with the government, but I recently retired to the ranch. So, Meredith, who’s your current boyfriend?”

      “There isn’t one,” she replied. “But I’ll bet there’s a woman in your life.”

      “As a matter of fact, there’s not at present.”

      “I’m sure she’s not far in the past and there’s another lined up somewhere in the near future.”

      “Now why do you think that? You don’t know me.”

      “You have that easygoing manner of a man accustomed to always having a female in his life.”

      “Do I really?” he asked, amused by her observations.

      “You know darn well you do. You’re also egotistical and overbearing.”

      “Golly gee whiz. I’ll have to work on that.”

      “You can save the charm because it won’t work on me.”

      “Now is that a challenge or what?” he asked, his voice dropping as he shot her a look.

      “It’s definitely not a challenge. Besides, I’m not your type remember?”

      “Point taken.” He drove quietly for a few minutes and then asked, “Do you have a hotel room in Royal or did you intend to drive back to Dallas tonight?”

      “I’m