he slid his hands through his hair in complete bewilderment. Another dream, Lord help him.
He let out a long, heavy sigh and shook his head. Oh, sure, this one had been different. This time she’d said yes, and she’d given him a measure of physical release.
His body was somewhat appeased, but his spirit wasn’t.
Wearily he rose from the bed and followed his usual routine. He trudged to the connecting bathroom, stepped into the shower and jerked the cold-water faucet on full force. His body quivered, rebelling in shock. Something had to be done. He couldn’t continue this way.
At thirty-three, Daniel Pendleton knew himself well. He knew what other people saw when they looked at him—a hardworking, upstanding, responsible citizen. The eldest of seven brothers and one sister, he’d managed the family farm since his father had died years ago. His father’s death had taken away his opportunity to go to college, which still brought a sting of disappointment and regret. Daniel, however, wasn’t the type to wallow in misery. He set his mind on something and got the job done.
He’d been involved with a few women, but he’d always made it clear that he wasn’t interested in forever. His family obligations had stripped him clean of any desire for more permanent connections.
Daniel turned the faucet off and reached for a towel, thinking that he’d been reasonably pleased with his life until lately. Until Sara Kingston had taken up residence in his dreams. He scowled, scrubbing his chilled body with the towel.
He wasn’t happy with his present state. Discontent had been rumbling in his gut, making him irritable, which wasn’t the norm for him. His family would say Darnel wasn’t difficult to please. His sister would claim he was her most easygoing brother. His friends would say he was the kind of man you could depend on.
There were things his family didn’t know about him, though. Things nobody knew about him. When something got in his way, Daniel could be ruthless. Nobody knew it, because nobody had been stupid enough to get in his way.
Now there was Sara. She taunted and teased him night after night. She’d gotten into his blood like a fever no antibiotic could treat. He wanted her.
Daniel balled up the towel and crammed it into the clothes hamper. He’d given himself time to get over this foolishness, but time hadn’t done the trick.
Glancing at the luminescent numbers on his alarm clock, he felt resolution harden within him like steel. It was time, once and for all, to get Sara Kingston out of his system.
There was only one way to do it. He would have to take her to bed.
Chapter One
“No,” Sara said, softening the rejection with her most polite smile. “It’s nice of you to ask, but I really need to check on the appetizers.” She backed away, hoping she hadn’t offended the client, but something about the way the man looked at her made her uneasy. She shouldn’t have worn that red slip tonight.
Sara rolled her eyes. Paranoid! The man wasn’t Superman. It wasn’t as if he could see what kind of underwear she was wearing.
She checked the well-stocked linen-covered tables. Her boss, Carly Bradford, had pulled out all the stops and thrown a huge Christmas party aboard Matilda’s Dream, the riverboat Carly owned and hired out for parties. Travel agents, local business representatives and Carly’s seven brothers danced, dined, laughed and flirted on the three decorated decks. Not being one for social affairs, Sara had tried to beg off, but Carly was more than a boss. She was a friend, and she seemed determined to include Sara in every family event.
“You make a career of checking on the appetizers,” a deep male voice said from behind her.
Sara stiffened. Daniel Pendleton. Ever since she’d accidentally spilled soup in his lap six months ago, he’d made her feel about as desirable as coffee dregs. Daniel had burned his hands in a barn fire, and Carly had asked Sara to help take care of him. Daniel hadn’t been the least bit grateful. Their relationship was at best civil.
Sara took a calming breath and inhaled the faint scent of sandalwood and soap. She turned to face Daniel. “Carly’s busy keeping everyone entertained. I’m just trying to be useful.”
“Thought Carly said she wanted the staff to take the night off and act like guests.” He gestured toward a waiter outfitted in black. “She even got a temp agency to provide waitstaff.” His mouth tilted into a grin. “You’re supposed to be having fun.”
The white slash of his teeth disconcerted her.
“Wanna dance?”
Surprised at the invitation, Sara blinked, then automatically shook her head. “No,” she managed. “I—”
“Why?”
She stared into his trademark Pendleton violet eyes and drew a complete blank.
If a name had to be put after the word masculine in the dictionary, it would have to be Daniel Pendleton. He had broad shoulders, a flat belly and slim hips, all of which were shown off to perfection tonight in a well-tailored navy suit. His dark brown hair had just a hint of a wave, and the few lines on his forehead and around his eyes added maturity to a handsome face.
It was more than how he looked, though, she admitted. It was the quiet confidence he emanated. Everything about the way he walked and talked said, Don’t worry. I can take care of it. Sara had to take only a baby step farther in her mind to wonder how a man like Daniel took care of a woman.
No.
Daniel Pendleton was in the prime of his life, a good man, Sara reminded herself, and she was convinced that it was her curse to ruin good men.
She shrugged. “I just don’t think—”
“C’mon.” He took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and tugged. “It’s just a dance. I’m not gonna bite you.”
Before she knew it, one of his large hands wrapped around her waist, the other firmly held her hand, and Sara was fighting a topsy-turvy sensation while she stared at the knot in Daniel’s maroon club tie. She was suddenly acutely aware of her femininity in a way she hadn’t been in years.
And it felt entirely too good.
The texture of his hands lured her attention. A working-man’s hands. She’d always been held by men with smooth, white-collar hands. Daniel’s palms were callused, his fingers blunt, and Sara got the distinct impression that he was very selective about how he used his hands to convey strength and gentleness.
“What’s wrong with my hand?”
Sara jerked her gaze up to his. “Nothing.” Seeing the disbelief in his eyes, she searched for something to say. “It looks like it healed well.”
“Yeah.” He flexed his fingers around hers. “I lost my fingerprints in that fire, though. Now I could take up a life of crime and no one would be able to catch me.”
Sara shook her head. “They’d remember your eyes. Besides, you’re a good guy, the head of the clan, a pillar of the community. Your sense of integrity wouldn’t let you do anything too bad.”
His gaze held hers. “Even good
