Always Dakota. Debbie Macomber

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СКАЧАТЬ him again. Her attitude toward Margaret Clemens irritated Matt. True, Sheryl was as pretty as a centerfold—and about as two-dimensional. Despite her lovely eyes, Margaret was plain, but unlike Sheryl she was both honest and kind. It surprised him that he felt so protective toward Margaret. One thing he knew for sure: he wasn’t going to let Sheryl talk him into using her.

      “Sheryl around?” he asked Lee Ann, one of the other waitresses.

      “She worked the early shift today,” Lee Ann told him. “But I know she’d like to see you.”

      Matt nodded, and ordered a beer. He wasn’t in any hurry.

      “Drop in at her house, why don’t you?” Lee Ann said as she delivered his Bud Light.

      Matt didn’t reply. He would’ve preferred to see Sheryl here, where there were other people, rather than her place—where they’d be alone. She had her own special way of detaining him and he didn’t want to fall into that trap. Instead, he went to a local watering hole and drank two more beers. Fortified by alcohol and a strong sense of what was right, he changed his mind and went over to Sheryl’s rented house. He drove slowly and carefully, grateful for the lack of traffic—and always keeping an eye out for the sheriff. A drunk driving conviction was something he’d prefer to avoid.

      “Where have you been?” Sheryl cried, her face lighting up when she opened her door. Without warning, she hurled herself into his arms, nearly knocking him off balance. “I’ve been missing you so much.”

      Although she’d been squawking about marriage, Matt was well aware that there were other men in her life. He let her think he was deaf and blind because it suited his own purposes. He was with Sheryl on his terms, no matter how much she liked to think she was the one controlling him.

      “I haven’t seen you in two weeks,” she said.

      “I’ve been busy.”

      “I’m sure you have,” Sheryl said and led him into her cozy living room.

      He sat down on the sofa and she poured them each a stiff drink, Scotch over ice, bringing the tumblers to the coffee table. He didn’t have time to reach for his glass before Sheryl crawled into his lap, straddling his legs.

      “So you missed me, too,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling her sweet little bottom directly over his crotch.

      There was no denying that he had.

      “Tell me how it’s going with Margaret,” she said.

      Matt had come to Sheryl’s to discuss Margaret, but not for the reason she assumed.

      “You’d be a fool to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.” She picked up her drink, sipping from it. Her eyes met and held his. “She needs you. Can’t you see you’d be helping her?”

      It was difficult to ignore his body’s natural response to the things Sheryl was doing. His head was clouded with booze and desire, but he couldn’t allow her to manipulate him. Bracing his hands against her shoulders, he spoke forcefully. “I’m here to tell you I have no intention of marrying Margaret or anyone else.”

      “Really?” Her eyebrows arched with the question. “What about me?” She squirmed in his lap, effectively reminding him of all she had to offer … and her willingness to do so. Setting aside her drink, she cupped his face between her hands and directed his mouth to hers.

      This was a woman who knew how to bring a man to a full state of arousal—fast. Without the beer and the whiskey, he might have been able to break off the kiss and hold his ground, but his resolve was already weakening.

      “I didn’t say this was a hard-and-fast decision,” he whispered huskily, his eyes closed.

      “Good answer.” She kissed him again, employing the full range of her talents.

      By the time she’d finished kissing him, Matt was putty in her hands.

      “I’ve missed you, cowboy,” she said, leading him to the bedroom. “More than you know.”

      Matt doubted it, but he didn’t care, not at that moment. There seemed little excuse to deny himself what he wanted most, and just then it was Sheryl.

      The following morning, Matt woke with a hell of a headache. His entire head throbbed. The whiskey bottle, now empty, stood on the bedside table; one of the glasses lay on the floor. The other glass held several cigarette butts, floating in half an inch of melted ice. The sight disgusted him. So did Sheryl, naked beside him. Most of all, he disgusted himself.

      Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling, and silently cursed himself for being so damn weak. He’d never meant for this to happen. He’d never meant to become this involved with Sheryl. But a man had needs—needs Sheryl was always happy to satisfy. What they shared was a mutually pleasurable sexual relationship; that was the extent of it. The more he got to know her, the less he liked her. He worked long, hard hours on his ranch, but every now and then he needed to let loose, indulge himself. Sheryl was always obliging.

      “You awake?” Sheryl asked, rolling over and clinging to his side. Her fingers plucked annoyingly at his nipples.

      Matt brushed her hand away.

      “What are you thinking about?”

      He didn’t want to talk, and wished now that he’d showered and left before she woke.

      “Nothing,” he muttered and tried to get up, but she’d wrapped her leg around his and held him tightly in place.

      “We need to talk about Margaret.”

      “She’s off-limits,” he said in no uncertain terms. His voice was cold, and loud enough to make his head pound even more. He tossed aside the sheet and despite her effort to hold him, Matt scurried out of bed and reached for his jeans.

      “You like her, don’t you?” Sheryl asked, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her breasts.

      “It doesn’t matter what I feel for Margaret.”

      Sheryl was suspiciously silent. “You don’t have to marry her, if you don’t want to,” she said now. “It was just an idea.”

      “A stupid one.”

      Sheryl looked repentant. “All right, it was a stupid idea, but I was honestly thinking of her.”

      “Yeah, I’ll bet you were.”

      “I was,” she cried, sounding hurt that he didn’t believe her. “This is a difficult time in Margaret’s life. She’s alone, and that’s scary. She needs someone like you.”

      “I’m the last person she needs.” He fastened his denim shirt, closing the snaps with more force than necessary. When he got to the bottom, he realized he had one snap too many.

      “Oh, Matt, don’t be in such a hurry to leave me,” Sheryl said, smiling softly. Scrambling off the bed, she stood nude before him and unfastened his shirt, then refastened it correctly.

      “I have to go.”

      “When СКАЧАТЬ