Yield To Me Read online

  YIELD TO ME

  by

  Tory Richards

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  Published by

  TORRID BOOKS

  www.torridbooks.com

  An Imprint of Whiskey Creek Press LLC

  Whiskey Creek Press

  PO Box 51052

  Casper, WY 82605-1052

  Copyright Ó 2013 by Tory Richards

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-61160-461-0

  Credits

  Cover Artist: Gemini Judson

  Editor: Fran Mathieson

  Printed in the United States of America

  Other Books by Author Available at Torrid Books:

  www.torridbooks.com

  It’s All in the Jeans

  Wicked Desire

  The Cowboy Way

  Someone to Love Me

  Passionate Encounters

  Dedication

  I dedicate this to Mary Lockhart, who always has a place for me to stay when I go home. I love you cuz!

  Chapter 1

  At six feet five inches, short women didn’t appeal to Brent Howard in the least, so it was only natural his gaze zeroed in on five feet ten inch Sophie Adams the minute she walked into the crowded room. She was a stunning creature, cultivated and poised; her status of wealth and influence in society evident in not only her regal appearance but in her every move.

  He couldn’t help thinking the outdated newspaper clipping he’d seen of her earlier hadn’t done her justice. The colorless picture hadn’t revealed the healthy, rich satin of her honey-toned skin, or the way the auburn highlights in her hair, done in a casual yet elegant style away from her face, caught the light as she moved. Reminding him of an untamed wildfire begging to be tamed.

  The evening gown she was wearing wasn’t much more than a black sheath of shimmering satin. The halter style cut revealingly low in the front while falling in a graceful line all the way to her elegant ankles. It hugged her hourglass shape like a glove, revealing she couldn’t possibly be wearing any undergarments. Three-inch heels put her over the six-foot mark, which meant she’d fit perfectly against him on the dance floor. And in bed. The thought came from nowhere. After all, he was a man, and she was sexier than hell.

  As she moved, the light captured the brilliance of the emeralds adorning her slender throat. Even Brent’s inexperienced eyes could tell they weren’t made of paste but were the real deal, and probably worth a small fortune. The fifteen-carat diamond on her finger alone could probably buy a small country and would certainly feed a lot of starving people. His mouth turned down with mild disgust. He didn’t begrudge people who had money but flaunting it in pretentious ways had always turned him off. And Miss Adams had a way of flaunting it as though it was as natural to her as air was to breathe.

  She turned slightly and Brent caught his breath, his gaze landing on the amount of flesh exposed by the daringly low cut back of her dress, which narrowed to the curve of her slim waist. Not only beautiful but an exhibitionist as well. Interesting.

  Without being obvious, his gaze followed her as he waited for the right time to make his move. As she glided smoothly from one painting to another wearing that “look but don’t touch” attitude, he was surprised to see she was alone. No one approached her, not even to say hello. However, he knew in spite of her social standing within the community, it was a well-known fact that Miss Adams insisted on her space and privacy. In fact, she demanded it. An unapproachable beauty one could only look at and admire from afar.

  Brent knew that would be her downfall.

  With a roguish grin his mother would say held a look of pure trouble, he reached for a glass of champagne off a tray as the hostess walked by, sipping at it without really tasting it. Pretending interest in some of the artwork and sculptures scattered throughout the spacious room, he continued to watch Sophie as he gradually made his way in her direction.

  The museum was crowded with black ties, suits and evening gowns as only the wealthiest had turned out for the grand opening of the Calabay Cove Art Museum. Photographers were many, frenziedly snapping pictures of the rich and famous. He scanned the room, taking note of the security guards stationed about. They were dressed to the hilt in an obvious effort to blend in and not alarm the public that they might be needed.

  Strictly as a precaution, it appeared the owners of the museum weren’t taking any chances with the millions of dollars worth of art they had on hand. Brent wondered if it had occurred to anyone that there was more there then just artwork needing protection. His gaze automatically searched out Sophie, and froze.

  The lady was looking directly at him.

  * * * *

  An uneasy feeling enveloped Sophie as she unhurriedly made her way around the room, not for the first time peering over her shoulder as though expecting to see someone there. Not paranoid by nature, she was certain someone was following her, and watching her. It wouldn’t be the first time in her twenty-eight years. As the daughter of a senator, she’d grown up in the spotlight, accustomed to being followed by reporters, and at times, bodyguards. However, it had grown worse since her engagement to millionaire Jonathan Lord had been made public. An engagement she would have kept private had it not been for his colossal ego.

  Pausing, she examined an oil painting that made her immediately think of confetti. Splashes of bright color that, to her way of thinking, any child of five could have done without much effort. The outrageous price tag of four thousand dollars on it caused her to shake her head with disbelief, until remembering where she was. And who might be watching.

  There were photographers about. If one of them managed to snap a picture of her at the wrong moment, that definitely would not be the kind of reaction Jonathan would expect to see on the front page in the morning paper. Furthermore, when he was displeased about something, he let it be known. Keeping up appearances was very important to him, ranking right up there with landing a wealthy senator’s daughter.

  Sophie had learned early on that he tended to look at the smallest infraction as an embarrassment and personal attack on him. Even going as far as accusing her of going out of her way to embarrass him in public once, when all she’d done was show up after their engagement announcement not wearing the much-publicized ring. Without being obvious, she cast a glance down at the cold, meaningless stone, hating what it represented. A smile designed to hide her true feelings turned the corners of her mouth up but did nothing to diminish the sadness in her heart when she thought about her situation.

  Forcing herself to move on, she ignored the prickling sensation at the back of her neck, resisting the impulse to look behind her a second time. Her imagination was working overtime, that was all. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, reaching for a glass of sparkling champagne. She didn’t drink but maybe a small sip would soothe her nerves. Glancing up as she put her lips to the rim of the glass, she noticed him.

  She froze, the man’s dark, compelling presence all but taking her breath away. M
ore handsome than any man had a right to be, he stood well above any other in the room. He didn’t look like the black suit and tie type, yet it fit his broad-shouldered frame nicely, as though tailored specifically for him. He carried himself with ease, revealing a boredom she was used to seeing on the men who moved in her circle. Yet she sensed hiding beneath the surface was an alert predator, primed for action. There was a healthy outdoorsy look about him. His dark skin tone indicated whatever he did for a living wasn’t behind a door in an air-conditioned building somewhere, sitting at a desk.

  He gave her the distinct impression he didn’t particularly want to be there. She took another sip of her drink, striving not to be obvious as she kept her gaze trained on him, taking in his jet-black hair. It looked as if he’d been running his hands through it all evening. Feminine interest had her wondering if it was as thick and silky as it appeared. She wondered if he was alone. A quick glance around the room revealed no one else who came close to measuring up to the raw magnetism he portrayed.

  A male in his prime.

  He brought his glass to his lips, glancing about the room over the rim until his gaze came back to her. Their eyes met and held, causing Sophie to catch her breath again. Her heart skipped a beat. A delicious heat uncurled deep inside her body making her pulse leap excitedly; a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time. And never with Jonathan.

  Thank goodness she was skilled in the art of keeping her composure even under the most difficult of circumstances, praying no one observing her noticed the faint outward changes she couldn’t control. She didn’t need to glance into a mirror to know the heat filling her cheeks left them a rosy hue, branding her. Perhaps she could blame it on the champagne.

  “Darling, you’re drinking.” Cool, masculine lips briefly touched the exposed skin at Sophie’s collarbone. A shiver escaped her before she could stop it. She hoped Jonathan thought it was a quiver of desire and not the revulsion she actually felt whenever he touched her.

  It wasn’t as though he were unattractive. On the contrary, Jonathan was extremely good-looking. A real life Ken doll with stylish blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. Yet it was the monster behind those boyish good looks and southern charm that scared her. From the beginning, she’d heard rumors about how he’d attained his wealth. Stories laced with unfavorable content, and now she had firsthand knowledge of how devious he could be when he wanted something.

  “You look ravishing tonight,” he drawled close to her ear, purposely letting his lips brush against her again. To make matters worse, his hands smoothed up her bare arms to her shoulders, caressing her openly as he went.

  Sophie realized she’d have to get over her aversion to Jonathan soon enough. Once they were married, she’d hardly be able to keep him from her bed. As he seemed determined to stake his claim in an unusual public display of affection, she lowered her eyelids, effectively hiding her dislike from the others in the room.

  “Darling? Is something wrong?”

  Sophie knew he was waiting for a response, but when she raised her head, it was the dark compelling stare of a stranger who captured and held her gaze.

  * * * *

  Brent was trained to notice things. The tiniest telltale flicker in Sophie’s beautiful eyes when their gazes met gave her true feelings away when her fiancé touched her. The barely noticeable stiffening of her body after Lord removed his lips sent up a warning flag Brent couldn’t ignore. His gaze narrowed, not missing the way her hand trembled slightly as she brought the champagne glass to her rose-colored mouth.

  The lady was definitely repulsed by Lord’s touch. Either that or she loathed public displays, which he quickly dismissed. If Lord noticed anything, he ignored it, too arrogant and self-assured. Yet Brent’s instincts told him he knew exactly what Sophie’s reaction was to his touch and that he was taking secret pleasure in it.

  Some men got off on forcing their unwanted attentions on a woman when they knew it wasn’t reciprocated. For some reason, those ungrounded thoughts sent a rush of anger through Brent; the conversation he’d had with Senator Adams two days before coming back to him. Was he correct in his theory that Sophie was being blackmailed into marriage?

  Brent knew enough about Jonathan Lord’s reputation to know the man never took no for an answer. When he wanted something, he got it by whatever means available to him. He was shrewd in his business dealings, lucky with his money investments, and thrived on power, most especially the kind he’d acquire once he and Sophie were married.

  Add that to the several high-ranking politicians already in his hip pocket and the man was set for life. It was rumored he was good at digging up dirt; the kind people in high places paid a lot of money to keep from becoming public. Of course no one was brave enough to come right out and accuse him of blackmail, which made Lord a dangerous man as far as Brent was concerned. The kind a person would have to be a fool to cross, unless they were an influential senator.

  Senator Adams had a bulldog reputation of standing his own ground when he wanted something too. He got results. If he suspected Sophie was being blackmailed into marrying Lord, he would do anything to find out what Lord’s leverage was in order to prevent it, not excluding kidnapping. The million-dollar question was what did Lord have on Sophie that would force her to marry him against her will?

  His gaze traveled over her again, more leisurely this time, wondering what secrets the lady was hiding. One thing was certain though, that gown she was wearing wasn’t hiding any of them. As he watched the exchange between her and Lord closely, he reached for another glass of champagne, preferring something stronger like a shot of whiskey. Taking a sip, his gaze narrowed on the way she rolled her shoulder out from under Lord’s caressing hand, the action causing Brent’s mouth to curve into a knowing smile.

  Chapter 2

  Sophie knew it was just a matter of time before Jonathan insisted they join the others outside for dinner. Especially once he spied some of the same acquaintances who had attended their pre-wedding banquet several nights before. He had the gall to assume their union automatically made her friends his, thus moving him further inside her well-bred circle. However, what he didn’t know was she didn’t intend to make things easy for him.

  “I’m still waiting for an answer, darling.”

  “I have a slight headache tonight,” she lied, praying he would accept her explanation for refusing to stay. She was forced to meet his gaze when he purposely stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the room and the intriguing stranger.

  “Poor baby.” He reached up, running the back of his hand along her cheek, his demeanor overflowing with the self-confidence she was growing accustomed to, and hated. “Maybe you’re worried about tomorrow?”

  Our wedding day.

  Her stomach churned wildly at the thought. In the morning she’d become his wife; his to do with whatever he wanted because Sophie knew in his eyes she’d belong to him, as if she were a piece of property. Visions surfaced of his one attempt at making love to her, reminding her there’d be no tenderness in his possession. Once aroused his southern charm disappeared completely. It was only because she’d struck a desperate bargain with him that he hadn’t touched her again. She’d made a pact with the devil and there was no one who could save her.

  Turning abruptly away from him she inhaled deeply, directing her forlorn gaze out the window to the lighted patio beyond. People were milling about, helping themselves to the elaborate buffet set up for the special occasion, while others danced to the soft music provided by the live band beneath the decorated gazebo. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape Jonathan’s watchful expression, reflected in the glass as he looked over her shoulder. His mouth parted with a smile that contradicted the cold look in his eyes.

  She tried not to cringe when his hands dropped to her shoulders, his fingers slipping beneath the material of her gown. He was just arrogant enough to press his body against her, revealing to all who watched that he had that privilege. Her gaze move
d past his image to the stranger standing across the room, her heart jumping wildly when she realized he was observing them with intense interest.

  When most people got caught staring, they quickly glanced away, but not this man. He was too uncaring for that; too curious in what was going on between her and Jonathan. As his gaze traveled a lazy path down the length of Sophie, she grew warm, quivering slightly beneath his visual caress. Then all at once, he finished the contents in his glass before setting it down. Even from her vantage point, she could make out the unmistakable tightening of his expression, as though he was angry about something, or was it just her imagination?

  “Darling, you really must get over your fear of tomorrow,” Jonathan said, just loud enough for his voice to carry to an elderly couple walking by. “We’re getting married,” he announced, returning their congratulatory smiles. However, for Sophie’s ears he murmured, “I can hardly wait for tomorrow night. These last few weeks…”

  She didn’t know how much more she could take, so she tuned him out. Two months of pretending to be enamored with him took its toll. A real headache was starting to throb in her temple. She closed her eyes for a moment, suspecting the glare of the lights wasn’t helping. Jonathan reached around her, taking the glass from her hands.

  “I suspect you’ve had enough of this.” After he set it down on the window ledge, his hand returned to her arm, caressing her in what appeared a loving gesture to anyone observing. Always conscious of any peering eyes, he tilted her head to expose the side of her neck where he planted a lingering kiss.

  Sophie was growing angry and tired over his continuous show of pretended affection, suspecting he was purposely baiting her. “Please,” she pleaded, softly so only he could hear her. “We have a deal,” she reminded him in a strained voice, her skin crawling where his lips had been.