Unleashed: Volume 1

But up in my bedroom, I felt so restless. Down below, far into the night, I could see the light on in Declan’s cabin. Was he up? Had he left it on while he’d gone out? I couldn’t see his truck, but he could have parked it around behind the barn. Part of me wanted to go and check but I still had a scrap of dignity left in me.

But maybe he was down there in his cabin, lonely. He might be shirtless like he had been in the barn the other day. Lying in my bed, I wasn’t wearing much, just a tank top and panties. It was a hot night. I traced my fingers lightly down my side, along my thighs.

I could picture him on the old beat-up couch I knew he had in his quarters. What would he do if I walked down there? What if I came right into his cabin late at night? Would he turn me away, harsh like he had that afternoon? Or would he be different in the darkness?

“Declan,” I murmured, wishing I knew more about him. Had he spent time in juvie? Even if he had, I somehow felt like he had a good reason. He wasn’t a shifty-eyed criminal, that much I felt in my bones, but there was so much I didn’t know about him. I knew he’d grown up in Montana because I’d overheard him talking with Bill, but where and how and with who? What was his family like? What had he been like as a kid? It was difficult to picture him young, sitting behind a desk in school all neat in a row. He had such a live current of energy coursing through him.

How many girlfriends had he had? If you could even call them girlfriends, I rolled my eyes at myself. I was so naïve.

Shifting onto my back, I willed myself to close my eyes and think of stupid, meaningless things like popcorn or mountains or tree bark. But the image I fixated on as I drifted off to sleep fascinated me far more than any other. Declan in the barn without his shirt, all long, lean muscles, a few tattoos licking around his shoulders and arms, teasing, beckoning, captivating.

Now

“You’ve got this,” I murmured, psyching myself up as I thrust back my shoulders and smoothed out my itsy-bitsy black dress. I had to own it tonight. Any sign of weakness and I was done for. Declan was tough, I knew that, but I’d watched a lot of movies and tonight I was going to channel every cutthroat, stone cold sexy bitch I’d ever seen on a screen. This was my night. I was going to walk in there and knock him dead. Then, when I had him right where I wanted, I would pitch him so convincingly he’d have to say yes.

Giving me a small business loan was a great investment opportunity. For a guy who invested in ranches, no less. Plus, I had a ton of work experience I could put to use on his other properties. This could be the beginning of a whole new amazing chapter in my life.

I parked a block and a half away, not too far so that I couldn’t walk it in my 4-inch heels, but far enough to let the warm summer breeze gently caress my hair and leave that pick-up truck behind. I needed a block and a half to get into character, an actress before the “lights, camera, action.” I rounded the corner and saw it: fig & fennel, all lower-case black letters with subtle back lighting. Were capital letters uncool now? I hadn’t gotten the memo.

Shoulders back, chin up, I strode down the sidewalk like it was a red carpet, paparazzi on the side snapping my pic. A man standing outside the restaurant did a double take while his date glared. That had to be a good sign, right? A few more groups stood outside in the warm summer night. Apparently fig & fennel packed them in.

Inside, the subtle lighting, low, pulsing music and laughter of the well-dressed created a chic ambiance. A tall, striking hostess greeted me with equal parts warmth and efficiency.

“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?”

I strode toward her like I did this every night. “I’m here to meet Declan Hunt.”

It would be an exaggeration to say that a hush fell over the entire restaurant, but I definitely felt a sudden change. Every wait staff within earshot and even a couple of patrons looked at me with interest.

“Mr. Hunt!” The hostess drew herself up to her full height. “Of course. He’s expecting you. Right this way, please.” She began making her way through the tables and whispered a command to a waiter who scurried away to do her bidding. Another waitress in a starched white button down shirt and black pants stood at attention and gave me a slight nod like I was the Queen of England. I quelled a nervous laugh bubbling up inside me. Was Declan that much of a big shot?

Against the back wall, I could sense the man himself before I could actually see him. Shadowed in darkness, I could still make out Declan’s large, imposing frame. My heart raced and my mouth felt dry but I forced my legs to slow down and strut their stuff across the floor. I had to own it tonight.

Declan’s face still in shadows, I couldn’t even tell if he was looking at me, just like in that damn pulled-low cowboy hat he used to wear. I could never see his eyes underneath the shade. The hostess stopped at a table in the back, somewhat set apart from the others in a secluded and romantic corner. Declan stepped forward into the light.

My breath caught in my throat. The man was so smoking hot. The jacket was gone, but the dress shirt and pants remained, tailored perfectly so you could see he was cut of rock-solid granite. Strong jaw, dark intense eyes, his hair looked as if it might still be slightly wet from a shower. I wouldn’t mind being in a shower with him, reaching my hands up along those shoulders, so massive and hard, digging my nails into his flesh.

“Elena.” He nodded both a greeting and a dismissal at the hostess.

“Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Hunt.” She turned and left us.

“Good to see you, Kara.” He leaned in to me and wrapped a large hand around the small of my back. I could smell that musky, masculine scent all his own. His warm skin grazed mine as he dipped his head down and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. A greeting that brief and common shouldn’t have nearly knocked me over, but it did. My stomach flipped low in my belly and I felt myself starting to melt. The man was a freaking fire hazard.

“Hi,” I managed, breathless and flushed. He drew back but not far, just enough to take in every inch of me, down to my stilettos and my legs, buffed, polished and glistening from the salon. My dress felt tinier by the second, as if it shrunk under the heat of his admiration. His eyes rested along my neckline and I could almost feel him caress me there, running a finger along the top of my dress, pausing to explore the valley hinted at between my breasts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and somewhat gruff.

“Thank you.” I trembled, still wrapped in his arm, his hand pressed on my lower back. He clenched his jaw. He always used to have stubble at night. He must have just shaved. It would feel so good to run my thumb along his smooth skin.

“May I interest you in one of our house specialty cocktails?” A waiter appeared at my side and I had to admit, I had no idea what he was talking about. Where was I again?

“In a moment.” Declan dismissed him. Then he moved to my chair and pulled it out. “Please, Kara, sit.”

I swallowed and took a seat, automatically pulling the linen napkin before me out of its elaborate folds and smoothing it over my lap. The napkin covered far more skin than my dress. What had I been thinking going out in public in this scrap of fabric? I felt naked under Declan’s smoldering, hungry gaze and it made me quiver.

What was my plan again for the night? My mind whirled and I tried to take a deep breath. I was supposed to own it, channel my inner bitch, make him an offer he couldn’t refuse. How about just making it through in one piece?

“May I order you some wine?” Declan sat down next to me instead of across the table. His leg rested ever so slightly against my own and I could immediately feel the heat radiating off of him. Drawing in my breath, I crossed my legs away to the side. “What do you like?” he asked in a low, husky voice.

Wine, he was talking about wine. I noticed he now held a drink in his hand. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“It’s a double bourbon.”

“Not sure that’s a good choice. I’d end up under the table.” Declan gave me the start of a dangerou

s smile, as if he liked the idea. “I mean…” I laughed nervously. “How about some wine? White wine.”

“Steven, bring us the Barbaresco,” Declan commanded and the waiter whisked himself away.

“Are you a regular, here?”

“A regular?”

“You know, a regular. Like Donny and Hal at the Chat ‘n’ Chew.” Dear lord, had I just mentioned the Chat ‘n’ Chew? I wished I could shove a sock in my mouth. Instead, I continued, “You seem to know everyone’s names.”

“I own the restaurant.”

I looked up, eyes wide. “Really? I thought you made ranches into resorts.”

“That too. I’m diversifying my investment portfolio.”

“Oh, right.” I nodded. Sure, whatever that meant. But, I had to admit, I was impressed. This fancy, packed, line-out-to-the-street restaurant looked like something you’d find in New York or L.A., not that I’d ever been to either city. He sure had come a long way from the ranch hand I’d known six years ago. A long way from my current reality.

“I wait tables at the Chat ‘n’ Chew,” I blurted out. “I work the morning shift five days a week.” Could I please stop talking? I took a big sip of ice water and inhaled a cube down the wrong pipe.

“You all right?” Declan put a large, warm hand on my back. I sputtered and flapped my hands, then managed to breathe.

Laughing, I looked at him. “I’m so elegant. I guess you can take the girl out of the ranch but you can’t take—”

“You’re beautiful, Kara.” Declan reached out and took my hand. Had I been saying something? I couldn’t remember. His eyes were like dark chocolate and his lips looked sinfully full, perfect to lick and taste. “You’re the most stunning woman in the room.”

I laughed, looked away and blushed but kept my hand right where it was. Normally I’d deflect a compliment with some kind of a joke, maybe tell him to stop. At the moment, though, words failed me. Declan was holding my hand, his large, warm palm enveloping my own. Did he honestly find me stunning?

I looked down at our hands entwined together. He worked inside now. How could his skin still be more tan and rough than my own?

In the center of the table a candle flickered in a hurricane glass. But the heat I felt came from his body, radiating into mine. His thumb caressed my hand, slowly stroking my skin. His large thigh pressed against my own.