His Enduring Love

1 IF Lacey hadn’t just gotten off a two-day road trip, if she wasn’t wearing a simple V-neck t-shirt with jean shorts, and if she wasn’t a black woman, she’d swear the slightly scruffy but very handsome Asian guy on the other side of the U-shaped bar was checking her out. But she knew she didn’t cut the most glamorous figure with her makeup-free face and long dreadlocks twisted on top of her head in a messy bun. She was also way underdressed for the upscale bar at Sinclair Ranch and Resort’s five-star restaurant, The S Factor. The Asian guy had silky black hair that fell just past his chin and what looked like a few days worth of stubble, but at least he was wearing a lightweight summer suit. No, he couldn’t be checking her out. Her eyes drifted to a group of women seated in the corner and decked out in elegant resort dresses. They made her feel like a plain sparrow to their colorful birds. Surely, if he were going to hit on anybody in the bar, it would be one of them. And let’s face it, as a black woman, she’d never had an Asian man give her a second glance, much less the searing one this guy appeared to be throwing her across the wide expanse of the bar. Lacey began to wonder if maybe there was a gorgeous, non-black woman standing behind her. She actually looked over her shoulder, but found herself gazing at a wall. And when she turned back to the bar, the man was gone. Had he been a hallucination? She reached up to undo the elastic holding her hair in place. Maybe she’d put it on too tight. “You’re done with your drink,” a smoky voice said beside her, just as she grabbed her hair tie. The Asian guy had reappeared at her side and slid onto the stool to her left. He was taller and even more handsome up close. Now she could clearly see his face, including his long, wide nose, strong jaw, and intense onyx eyes, which seemed to be boring a hole into her as he waited for an answer. Okay, then. Not a hallucination. She dropped her hand from her hair and glanced at the now-empty pint glass in front of her. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He set his own drink down, something dark and amber, maybe bourbon or scotch, and hailed the waiter. “I will buy you another.” “That’s not a good idea,” she said, truly alarmed to find herself in the position of having to turn down a drink from a really, really attractive man. She didn’t get out much, and it had been years since anyone had offered to buy her anything at all. “I haven’t had a thing to eat since lunch. I got into town a little later than expected, and now I’m starving. Really, the only reason I came in here was to get a meal, but then I was too late, and the kitchen closed, so I ordered a Guinness, because that’s kind of like a meal, right? But I think two pints would cross over into drinking-on-an-empty-stomach territory and I still have to drive back to my motel…” She trailed off, because the bartender had arrived to take their drink order, also because she realized she was doing it again, talking too much. “You’re too friendly, Tasha,” her father had scolded her back when her name had still been Tasha. They were walking back from the grocery store for what was supposed to be a quick milk run, but had turned into nearly twenty minutes of her dad huffing and puffing in the background as she gabbed on and on with the checkout clerk. “Everybody in the world ain’t your new best friend, cher. You going to have to learn ‘bout that soon.” At the time she’d dismissed his comments with a roll of her teenage eyes and an exasperated smile. “C’mon, Daddy, people aren’t that bad,” she’d said, thinking him such an introverted grump to her extroverted chatterbox self. But now she knew how bad people could be, how much trouble befriending the wrong people could get her into. It had ruined her life, and ended her father’s. “We’ll have a bottle of cabernet to go,” the man was saying to the bartender now. She noticed his words were slightly tinged with a very faint accent, making him sound even more formal than he already appeared. “And your house pasta. Have room service deliver it to my cabin.” The bartender nodded and left to place the order, even though handling room service orders for bar patrons probably wasn’t within the purview of his duties. The Asian man had placed the order so smoothly, it took Lacey a few seconds to realize what had happened. “Oh, wait, you want me to come back to your room…with you?” “Yes,” he answered. “You’re hungry and need to eat.” “Yeah, but…” she leaned in with an apologetic wince. “I know I’m not dressed very nice or anything, but I’m not the kind of girl who goes off with some random guy I just met.” He didn’t answer, just let his eyes scan her body from head to toe, his gaze so hot, it caused self-conscious goose bumps to rise on her arms. Luckily the bartender chose that moment to come back with the bottle of wine and the bill. The man signed it and took out his photo ID. “Please give this to the front desk before you leave tonight. If anything happens to her, then you know who I am and where to find me.” Lacey’s eyes widened in surprise, and the bartender looked at them both with curiosity. But a true professional, he took the driver’s license from the man and nodded without further comment. Then he left them alone with the bottle of wine and, for Lacey, a big decision. However, the stranger didn’t seem to think there was any decision to be made. He took the bottle of wine by the neck and stood. “We should go now if we want to get back to my cabin before your food arrives. The room service is fast here.” Maybe if it hadn’t been so long since a man had invited her back to his place. Maybe if she hadn’t been in Montana, a state she’d only traveled to twice before and for a very short time at that. Maybe if she hadn’t been living like a nun, with nothing more than a vibrator to keep her company for the past twelve years. Maybe if he weren’t so intriguingly handsome with his deep voice and mysterious accent… Maybe if her stomach hadn’t chosen that moment to grumble loudly as she watched him walk away. In the end, Lacey followed him out of the restaurant, not just because she really was very hungry, but also out of curiosity. For the first time since her father had been killed, she let down her guard. She was in the middle of nowhere, with no possibility of anyone having a clue that she really was. And a very attractive guy had just offered her a nice meal along with a bottle of expensive wine. Why not live a little? she asked herself. Just this once. She was nervous, Suro noted as they walked back to his room, even though she chatted easily enough about the weather and how pretty the stars were in Montana, and how nice the Sinclair Ranch was with all of its rustic guest cabins and ranch houses. She herself was staying at the Sinclair 28, a much cheaper motel about a half hour away. “Get this,” she said. “The woman at the front desk told me they used to call it the Ride ‘Em Cowboy. And it used to have a diner attached, but she said I wouldn’t have wanted to eat there anyway because it kept getting busted for health code violations. Andrew Sinclair, the guy who owns the town, convinced them to remodel, even gave them a renovation loan, which is why they ended up naming it after him. She says everyone here loves him, and not just because he owns the town and is married to a rock star, but also because he’s a really nice guy. But seriously, can you imagine owning a whole town?” Suro knew Andrew and his former rock star wife, Roxxy, well. He also knew they didn’t think of it as owning the former farm town, but as developing it to its full potential. He himself hailed from one of Japan’s wealthiest families, one that had accumulated a fortune in car manufacturing, among other things. So technically, he could imagine owning an entire town, even though he’d been estranged from that side of his family for a long time now. “This is my room,” he said, indicating a rustic, single-story cabin with large windows and a weathered, red copper roof nestled amongst the trees at the side of the path. “Wow, it looks as nice as it does in the brochures,” she said upon entering. He watched her slowly look around the front room, with its vaulted ceiling, large stone fireplace, and distressed leather furniture. She walked to the glass doors, which faced out onto a deck with a sunken hot tub and high-end patio furniture. “Yeah, this place is just a little more upscale than my room at the Sinclair 28,” she said. Then she let out a laugh, that had probably been meant to seal the joke, but came out thin and shaky. “There’s no need to be nervous,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. You have my word.” She turned back to look at him. “What makes you think I’m nervous? Because I’m talking so much? No, that’s just how I am. I’m not…” she broke off and gulped when he came to stand in front of her, so close she bumped into the glass door behind her when she tried to take a step back. His nostrils flared slightly…he could smell her, the dark beer she’d drunk, the hotel soap from the shower she’d recently taken, the one that had prevented her from making it to the restaurant before it closed. “…nervous,” she finished weakly. Her breath caught when he brought his hand up to her hair and released the elastic band, allowing her long, heavy locks to tumble down onto her shoulders and over her breasts. Suro’s c**k responded immediately, and his mind filled with images of how she would look naked, riding him, with all of that hair framing her curvy body. “Stay calm,” he said, both to her and to himself. “I am only looking at you.” Another hard swallow as she visibly squirmed under his gaze. “So, do you do this a lot? Bring women back to your room and, uh, look at them?” “No,” he answered. He usually only stayed at hotels when meeting with clients or carrying out hits, two activities that failed to rouse his libido. But he doubted explaining that to her would put her at ease. The truth was he couldn’t explain why he had brought her back to his cabin. He’d only gotten into Sinclair Township a few hours ago, after driving in from the Missoula airport. He’d gone to the bar intending to get a drink before calling it a night. But then she walked in, her dark skin glowing against her pink t-shirt, and her others charms soon became obvious despite her casual clothes and haphazard hair. She radiated good cheer even after the bartender told her the kitchen was closed. Though he preferred to keep his liaisons cool and impersonal, like himself, Suro wanted her. He wanted her cheerfulness and warmth in a way his cold heart had wanted nothing else in a very long time. And as he stood there with her now, slightly intoxicated by her simple scent, he didn’t dare kiss her for fear he wouldn’t be able to stop. Still, his lips hovered close to hers, begging his brain for one kiss, just one. But then a knock sounded on the door and he made himself step away from her. “Your food is here.”