Her Perfect Gift Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Her Perfect Gift

  Published by Amorous Publishing

  http://theodorataylor.com/

  Copyright Ⓒ 2012 Theodora Taylor

  ISBN: #978-0-9849193-5-2

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER 1

  IF Lacey hadn’t just gotten off a two-day road trip, if she wasn’t wearing a simple V-neck t-shirt with jean shorts, and if she wasn’t a black woman, she’d swear the slightly scruffy but very handsome Asian guy on the other side of the U-shaped bar was checking her out.

  But she knew she didn’t cut the most glamorous figure with her makeup-free face and long dreadlocks twisted on top of her head in a messy bun. She was also way underdressed for the upscale bar at Sinclair Ranch and Resort’s five-star restaurant, The S Factor.

  The Asian guy had silky black hair that fell just past his chin and what looked like a few days worth of stubble, but at least he was wearing a lightweight summer suit. No, he couldn’t be checking her out. Her eyes drifted to a group of women seated in the corner and decked out in elegant resort dresses. They made her feel like a plain sparrow to their colorful birds. Surely, if he were going to hit on anybody in the bar, it would be one of them.

  And let’s face it, as a black woman, she’d never had an Asian man give her a second glance, much less the searing one this guy appeared to be throwing her across the wide expanse of the bar.

  Lacey began to wonder if maybe there was a gorgeous, non-black woman standing behind her. She actually looked over her shoulder, but found herself gazing at a wall. And when she turned back to the bar, the man was gone. Had he been a hallucination? She reached up to undo the elastic holding her hair in place. Maybe she’d put it on too tight.

  “You’re done with your drink,” a smoky voice said beside her, just as she grabbed her hair tie.

  The Asian guy had reappeared at her side and slid onto the stool to her left. He was taller and even more handsome up close. Now she could clearly see his face, including his long, wide nose and intense onyx eyes, which seemed to be boring a hole into her as he waited for an answer.

  Okay, then. Not a hallucination.

  She dropped her hand from her hair and glanced at the now-empty pint glass in front of her. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

  He set his own drink down, something dark and amber, maybe bourbon or scotch, and hailed the waiter. “I will buy you another.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” she said, truly alarmed to find herself in the position of having to turn down a drink from this really, really attractive man. She didn’t get out much, and it had been years since anyone had offered to buy her anything at all. “I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch. I got into town a little later than expected, and now I’m starving. Really, the only reason I came in here was to get a meal, but then I was too late, and the kitchen closed, so I ordered a Guinness, because that’s kind of like a meal, right? But I think two pints would cross over into drinking-on-an-empty-stomach territory and I still have to drive back to my motel…”

  She trailed off, because the bartender had arrived to take their drink order, also because she realized she was doing it again, talking too much.

  “You too friendly, Tasha,” her father had scolded her back when her name had still been Tasha. They were walking back from the grocery store for what was supposed to be a quick milk run, but had turned into nearly twenty minutes of her dad huffing and puffing in the background as she gabbed on and on with the checkout clerk. “Everybody in the world ain’t your new best friend, cher. You going to have to learn ‘bout that soon.”

  At the time she’d dismissed his comments with a roll of her teenage eyes and an exasperated smile. “C’mon, Daddy, people aren’t that bad,” she’d said, thinking him such an introverted grump to her extroverted chatterbox self. But now she knew how bad people could be, how much trouble befriending the wrong people could get her into. It had ruined her life, and ended her father’s.

  “We’ll have a bottle of cabernet to go,” the man was saying to the bartender now. She noticed his words were slightly tinged with a very faint accent, making him sound even more formal than he already appeared. “And your house pasta. Have room service deliver it to my cabin.”

  The bartender nodded and left to place the order, even though handling room service orders for bar patrons probably wasn’t within the purview of his duties.

  The Asian man had placed the order so smoothly, it took Lacey a few seconds to realize what had happened. “Oh, wait, you want me to come back to your room…with you?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “You’re hungry and need to eat.”

  “Yeah, but…” she leaned in with an apologetic wince. “I know I’m not dressed very nice or anything, but I’m not the kind of girl who goes off with some random guy I just met.”

  He didn’t answer, just let his eyes scan her body from head to toe, his gaze so hot, it caused self-conscious goose bumps to rise on her arms.

  Luckily the bartender chose that moment to come back with the bottle of wine and the bill.

  The man signed it and took out his photo ID. “Please give this to the front desk before you leave tonight. If anything happens to her, then you know who I am and where to find me.”

  Lacey’s eyes widened in surprise, and the bartender looked at them both with curiosity. But a true professional, he took the driver’s license from the man and nodded without further comment. Then he left them alone with the bottle of wine and, for Lacey, a big decision.

  However, the stranger didn’t seem to think there was any decision to be made. He took the bottle of wine by the neck and stood. “We should go now if we want to get back to my cabin before your food arrives. The room service is fast here.”

  Maybe if it hadn’t been so long since a man had invited her back to his place. Maybe if she hadn’t been in Montana, a state she’d only traveled to twice before and for a very short time at that. Maybe if she hadn’t been living like a nun, with nothing more than a vibrator to keep her company for the past twelve years. Maybe if he weren’t so intriguingly handsome with his deep voice and mysterious accent…

  Maybe if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to grumble loudly as she watched him walk away.

  In the end, Lacey followed him out of the restaurant, not just because she really was very hungry, but also out of curiosity.

  For the first time since her father had been killed, she let down her guard. She was in the middle of nowhere, with no possibility of anyone having a clue who she really was. And a very attractive guy had just offered her a nice meal along with a bottle of expensive wine. Why not live a little? she asked herself. Just this once.

  SHE WAS NERVOUS, Suro noted as they walked back to his room, even though she chatted easily enough about the weather and how pretty the stars were in Montana, and how nice the Sinclair Ranch was with all of its rustic guest cabins and ranch houses. She herself was staying at the Sinclair 28, a much cheaper motel about a half hour away.

  “Get this,” she said. “The woman at the front desk told me they used to call it the Ride ‘Em Cowboy. And it used to have a diner attached, but she said I wouldn’t have wanted to eat there anyway because it kept getting busted for health code violations. Andrew Sinclair, the guy who owns the town, convinced them to remodel, even gave them a renovation loan, which is why they ended up naming it after him. She says everyone here loves him, and not just because he owns the town and is married to a rock star, but also because he’s a really nice guy. But seriously, can you imagine owning a whole town?”

  Suro knew Andrew and his former rock star wife, Roxxy, well. He also knew they didn’t think of it as owning the former farm town, but as developing it to its full potential. He himself hailed from one of Japan’s wealthiest families, one that had accumulated a fortune in real estate investments in the eighties. So technically, he could imagine owning an entire town, even though he’d been estranged from that side of his family for a long time now.

  “This is my room,” he said, indicating a rustic, single-story cabin with large windows and a weathered, red copper roof nestled amongst the trees at the side of the path.

  “Wow, it looks as nice as it does in the brochures,” she said upon entering. He watched her slowly look around the front room, with its vaulted ceiling, large stone fireplace, and distressed leather furniture.

  She walked to the glass doors, which faced out onto a deck with a sunken hot tub and high-end patio furniture. “Yeah, this place is just a little more upscale than my room at the Sinclair 28,” she said.

  Then she let out a laugh, that had probably been meant to punctuate the joke, but came out thin and shaky.

  “There’s no need to be nervous,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. You have my word.”

  She turned back to look at him. “What makes you think I’m nervous? Because I’m talking so much? No, that’s just how I am. I’m not…” she broke off and gulped when he came to stand in front of her, so close she bumped into the glass door behind her when she tried to take a step back. His nostrils flared slightly…he could smell her, the dark beer she’d drunk, the hotel soap from the shower she’d recently taken, the one that had prevented her from making it to the restaurant before it closed.

  “…nervous,” she finished weakly.

  Her breath caught when he brought his hand up to her hair and released the elastic band, allowing her long, heavy locks to tumble down onto her shoulders and over her breasts.

  Suro’s cock responded immediately, and his mind filled with images of how she would look naked, riding him, with all of that hair framing her curvy body.

  “Stay calm,” he said, both to her and to himself. “I am only looking at you.”

  Another hard swallow as she visibly squirmed under his gaze. “So, do you do this a lot? Bring women back to your room and, uh, look at them?”

  “No,” he answered. He usually only stayed at hotels when meeting with clients or carrying out hits, two activities that failed to rouse his libido. But he doubted telling her that would put her at ease.

  The truth was he couldn’t explain why he had brought her back to his cabin. He’d only gotten into Sinclair Township a few hours ago, after driving in from the Missoula airport. He’d gone to the bar intending to get a drink before calling it a night. But then she walked in, her dark skin glowing against her pink t-shirt, and her others charms soon became obvious despite her casual clothes and haphazard hair. She radiated good cheer even after the bartender told her the kitchen was closed.

  Though he preferred to keep his liaisons cool and impersonal, like himself, Suro wanted her. He wanted her cheerfulness and warmth in a way his cold heart had wanted nothing else in a very long time.

  And as he stood there with her now, slightly intoxicated by her simple scent, he didn’t dare kiss her for fear he wouldn’t be able to stop. Still, his lips hovered close to hers, begging his brain for one kiss, just one.

  But then a knock sounded on the door and he made himself step away from her. “Your food is here.”

  CHAPTER 2

  WHAT had she gotten herself into? Lacey wondered as she forked the tasty pasta with its light tomato basil sauce into her mouth. She could barely concentrate on the dish’s flavors because of the quiet man sitting on the other side of the patio table.

  He should have come off as placid—almost harmless, really—taking the occasional drink from his glass of wine and not saying much. Except he was anything but. There was something about him. His stillness. It put her in mind of a coiled snake, patiently waiting to strike. She wasn’t exactly scared—he didn’t give off the “chop her body up and bury it in the woods” vibe she occasionally got from a few of the customers where she worked—but she did feel unsettled. And no matter how many sips of wine she took, she couldn’t quite calm down.

  So she talked…about Montana, about the cabin, about—

  “You like to talk,” he said at one point after she finished describing a book she’d just read about a man who inherited a winery in the south of France.

  Her cheeks warmed. “I do,” she confessed. “I’m sorry. My dad wasn’t a talker either, so I know it can be overwhelming and irritating.”

  He shook his head once. “No, it’s fine. It gives you pleasure to do so, and I like the sound of your voice.”

  Now her cheeks really got hot. “I like the sound of your voice, too. The little I’ve heard of it. I guess it doesn’t give you pleasure to talk, huh?”

  “No,” he answered. Then he fell silent again.

  Okay, then. Lacey started to gather another bite of pasta onto her fork but then she looked down at her plate and realized it was empty, along with her wine glass. Her eyes scanned across the table and saw his glass was also empty, even though there was still a half bottle of cabernet left.

  “Do you want another glass of wine?” she asked.

  He continued to sit there quietly, his eyes burning into hers. “No.”

  “Do you mind if I have another glass?”

  “No,” he answered again, but he made no move to provide her with a refill.

  She raised her hands to do it herself, but then realized they were trembling and she’d never get the job done without breaking something. Somehow this ended up being the straw that broke the would-be one-night-stand’s back.

  “Okay,” she said, throwing her cloth napkin down on the table. “This was really nice, and thank you very much for buying me dinner. But unfortunately I need to go now. I thought I could do this, but I guess I’m just not that kind of girl.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “And what kind of girl is that?”

  She inwardly cringed, but forced herself to say it. “The kind of girl who has sex with a guy because he’s really hot and bought her dinner.”

  If possible, his face became even more neutral than before, almost a blank slate. “I don’t require sex from you in exchange for a meal.”

  She let out an audible sigh of relief and stood. “Good, because trust me, it wouldn’t have been all that great anyway. I’m too nervous, and I get all fumbly when I’m nervous. It wouldn’t have been a night to remember at all.”

  She opened the patio door and let herself back into the front room, where she’d left her brightly patterned satchel. “So don’t feel like you missed out on anything, because you really didn’t. It’s been a while and I’m pretty rusty in that area. So seriously, this is probably for the best.” She said all of this loudly, so he could hear her from the patio.

  But when she got her purse situated across her body and turned around, he was right there, standing in front of her.

  She gasped and wo uld have stumbled backwards over the couch if his strong hand hadn’t whipped out with precision grace and caught her by the forearm.

  “See,” she said, her heart beating erratically in her chest. “Look how clumsy I am right now. Not a great quality to have in a potential bed partner, right?”

  A few beats of silence, then he said, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Lacey had to clamp her lips shut to prevent herself from saying sorry again. Wasn’t she always counseling the girls at work that they didn’t owe the men who came in anything, no matter how many drinks they bought for them? Why was she having so much trouble with this? It was one dinner, and she wasn’t a prostitute. She didn’t have to have sex with this guy just because he’d fed her, even if she was very grateful she hadn’t had to eat out of a vending machine for the second night in a row. Unfortunately, hotels that let you pay in cash without presenting a photo ID weren’t exactly known for their amenities.

  At the door, she turned and said, “Good night.”

  She was taken aback, however, when she glimpsed something in his eyes. A flicker of sadness that quickly disappeared behind the unreadable mask he’d been wearing since she met him.

  “Good night,” he answered.

  She stared at him, her brows drawn together in concern. “Are you…?” she asked, pondering the look of sadness she’d seen on his face. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he answered. “You should go.”

  “It’s just that you’re so…” she couldn’t find the right word, instead her legs propelled her forward and her arms acted of their own accord, pulling him in close for a quick hug. At least it was supposed be a quick hug, but he was stiff, like a block of ice as opposed to a human man. He needed this, something told her. She felt like a cozy blanket and like he was a man with hypothermia in need of her warmth.

  “You should go,” he said again, his voice slightly muffled and strained.

  “You’re right,” she answered, her voice much lighter than she felt. “I should go.”

  But neither of them moved and just when she thought she might be standing there giving him the human blanket treatment all night, his arms came up and wrapped around her. His face collapsed into her neck and she could feel the hard, lean muscles in his torso bunch up as he held her even tighter than she had been holding him.