to gaping at her, which set him apart from the rabble nursing their beers, munching on peanuts and debating the nutritional value of beef jerky.
A shiver skittered down her spine as she imagined what it might be like to unbutton his shirt, to run her hands over his chest and to press her lips to his skin. There was something about all that rugged masculinity wrapped up in denim and flannel that left her just a little dizzy. She moaned softly. This was neither the time nor the place for erotic musings!
Sarah drew a deep breath and started toward him. Right now, Charlie Wilbury was her only way to Sam Morgan. And Sam Morgan was her only way to another successful show. If she had to use every last ounce of her sex appeal to get what she wanted from Mr. Wilbury, then she would. But it would be strictly a business tactic. Sarah slipped onto the bar stool next to him. “Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Wilbury?”
“Depends on what you expect in return,” he said. “If you expect me to get all sloppy drunk so you can take advantage of me, then yes, you can buy me several drinks.”
Sarah smiled. She hadn’t expected to encounter both unique wit and simmering masculinity here in Sutter Gap. It was highly enjoyable. And given the choice, she could think of whole list of things she would also enjoy, beginning with a slow striptease and ending with a night of passion in her motel room…if she were living in Sarah Cantrell’s Sexual Fantasyland where every handsome man was interested in pleasuring her. But she wasn’t.
“You said you know Sam Morgan. Do you know where he is right now?”
Charlie nodded. “I do.”
Sarah opened her purse and withdrew a twenty, placing it on the bar. The bartender poured Charlie a whiskey straight up and left the bottle. Sarah ordered a diet cola, deciding it would be better to keep her head together than impress him with her drinking abilities. “Could you take me to him?”
“Sam’s a real private person. He doesn’t like strangers, even if they do look like you.”
There was a compliment in there somewhere. “Surprise, surprise,” she murmured. “No one in this town likes strangers. And no one knows anything about Sam Morgan either.”
“Or maybe they just don’t want to talk to you.”
“This is very important,” Sarah said, reaching out to touch his hand. The moment she did, she had cause to regret her action. A strange tingle numbed her fingers and began to climb up her arm. “I—I have a business proposal for him that could be financially beneficial. I think it’s only fair that he make his own decision about this.”
Charlie set down his whiskey glass and ran his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. “And what makes you think Sam is interested in money?”
“Everyone is interested in money,” Sarah said. Although, right now, all she was interested in was the strange effect Charlie Wilbury’s touch was having on her body.
He downed the rest of his whiskey and set the glass on the bar, then slowly stood. “Not everyone, Ms. Cantrell. Hell, I’m interested in lots of other things besides money.” He let his gaze skim lazily up and down her body. “You probably are, too, right?” With that, he started toward the door.
Sarah gasped. Just what was he intimating? Yes, she was attracted to him. And the thought of tearing his clothes off and having her way with him had crossed her mind—once, twice at the most. But she certainly could set aside basic lust in order to focus on the real reason she’d come to Sutter Gap.
She grabbed her purse and ran, catching up to him on the sidewalk outside the bar. “Wait!” He stopped and she circled around him, preventing him from taking another step. “I’ll pay you five hundred dollars if you get me a meeting with Sam Morgan.”
“You still haven’t told me what you want.”
Sarah stared up at him, losing herself in his gaze for a long moment. He had the most mesmerizing blue eyes. Suddenly all thoughts of business fled from her head. If she told him what she really wanted from him, what would he do? What a silly question! From the way he was looking at her, he wasn’t the kind of man who waited for an engraved invitation.
“One thousand dollars,” she said in a shaky voice, knowing that she’d wipe out the last of her checking account to get what she wanted. “You take me to Sam Morgan, no questions asked.” But after she made the offer, Sarah wondered if she could trust the man behind those eyes. Could she trust any man who made her heart flutter and her pulse pound, a man who looked as if he were ready to toss her against the nearest car and have his way with her?
“Nope,” he said. He started off again, but she grabbed his arm.
“All right. Here’s the deal. I want to make a television show about Sam Morgan’s experiences in the wilderness. I own a small production company and we work with the PBS station in Charleston, South Carolina. It would be a multimedia deal. There’d be a companion book, speaking engagements, special appearances. I’ve read Mr. Morgan’s articles in Outdoor Adventure and he’s a wonderful writer. I can make him famous.”
Charlie laughed out loud. “Famous?”
“As famous as…Bob Vila. Or Julia Child.”
“So you like his writing?” Charlie asked. “I always thought his prose was a little flowery.”
“Not at all,” Sarah protested. “It’s descriptive and evocative. He has such a wonderful way with detail, yet there’s an innate simplicity to his words. Do you know if he’s an educated man?”
Charlie hesitated, as if contemplating how much he was willing to reveal. “I’d say he’s just about the smartest guy I’ve ever met. I’d even call him brilliant. But he’s also very humble.”
“And what about his dental situation,” she asked. “Does he have all his teeth?”
Sam’s eyebrow shot up. “Yes, I believe he does.”
Sarah sighed in relief. She was finally getting somewhere. But she still had to convince Charlie Wilbury to take her to Sam. “I could really use your help. Maybe we could have dinner tonight and I could explain all the details.”
She swallowed hard, wondering if the invitation sounded too desperate. But she was desperate—to find Sam Morgan. And maybe a tiny bit interested in his friend Charlie Wilbury. “I’m sure Mr. Morgan will want to listen to my proposal, but I’ll let you be the judge.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Gap View Motor Lodge out on Route 18. Room nine.”
He studied her for a long moment, then shrugged. “All right. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress warmly,” he said. With that, Charlie Wilbury walked down the street, whistling softly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.
Sarah watched him go, staring at his backside and admiring the view. She shivered again, then rubbed her arms through her wool jacket. It had been a long time since she’d found a man so devastatingly attractive. And had he been just an ordinary man, she might have considered seducing him.
But it had always been her policy never to mix business with pleasure. She sighed. “A guy like Charlie Wilbury would be a good reason to revise that policy,” she murmured.
SAM STARED
