To Love A Stallion. Deborah Fletcher Mello
her eyes. Both hands fell against the line of her hips as her head waved from side to side. “Well, give it your best shot. But I can promise you my sisters and I will do whatever it takes to fight you on this.”
John Stallion came to his feet, moving to stand directly in front of her. He stood close, his tall frame hovering easily over hers, the woodsy aroma of his cologne teasing her nostrils. Thoughts of their time in the elevator together flashed like cinematic photographs through her mind. A rise of perspiration suddenly puddled between her breasts, her temperature rising rapidly. She took a step back, dismayed at the way her body was betraying her.
The man stared her in the eye and Marah fought to hold his gaze, his piercing look seeming to undress her where she stood. When he spoke, his voice was low and even, so controlled that Marah imagined him to be the kind of man who was never unnerved by anything.
“I look forward to the challenge, Ms. Briscoe,” he said, that smug smile resurfacing to his face.
Inhaling swiftly, Marah spun around on her heels and rushed out the door as quickly as she’d rushed in. Behind her she could hear a rise of laughter; the Stallion men were no longer able to contain their amusement.
Chapter 2
John stood facing the slammed door, the walls still seeming to vibrate from the violation. His hands were pushed deep into the pockets of his slacks; his thoughts had followed after the woman when she’d stormed out of the room. The roar of laughter from the table behind him pulled at his attention.
“Yo, John, what just happened? Looks like you might have met your match. I thought you were more persuasive than that?” Mark Stallion said with a deep chuckle.
“You surely don’t see that every day,” Luke mused. “Edward was right about his daughter.”
John shook his head from side to side. “It would seem that we have a problem with that project of yours, Mark,” he said, changing the subject.
Mark nodded. “It would seem so. How do you think we should handle it?”
John paused, reflecting on the brief moments he’d just shared with the stunning Ms. Briscoe. The three men at his side sat watching him intently, curious as to what was on his mind.
The woman had spirit and John was rarely afforded an opportunity to be in the presence of a woman who wasn’t fawning for his attention like a lovesick puppy dog. Clearly, this woman was a force to be reckoned with. Not only had Ms. Briscoe not overreacted to their time in the elevator, but she’d barely given him a raised eyebrow as she’d thrown down her challenge. He was intrigued as he found himself imagining what it might be like to get to know her better.
His mouth lifted into a full grin. “I think I’ll handle this one personally,” he said finally. “Leave Ms. Briscoe to me.”
In the parking garage below, Marah was still shaking with anger as she pushed the speed dial on her cell phone. Three rings later her twin sister Marla picked up the line.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me.”
“Marah, where are you? Daddy is having a fit.”
“Downtown. I’m just leaving Stallion Enterprises.”
“What did you do?”
“I told them Daddy’s not selling the ranch.”
“Marah, honey, you can’t…”
“Don’t start, Marla. You know as well as I do that Daddy shouldn’t sell that land. He and Mommy spent their entire lives building that business. I’m not going to sit back and do nothing while John Stallion tries to steal it.”
As she mentioned his name, Marah found herself breaking into a cold sweat. Admittedly, whether it had shown on her face or not, the good-looking man had unnerved her. But she was on a mission and not even a man as fine as that one was going to get in her way. And admittedly, John Stallion was one fine specimen of maleness.
Marla called into the receiver. “Marah? You still there?”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I said you better come on home so we can all talk about it. Eden is already here.”
Marah nodded into the receiver. “I just have one more stop to make then I’m on my way.”
“See you soon,” Marla responded, disconnecting the call.
Pulling out of the garage, Marah stared up at the Stallion Enterprises logo that marked the front of the building. She heaved a deep sigh. John Stallion might be laughing now, she thought, but she promised herself he wouldn’t be laughing for long.
An hour later, Marah pulled into the circular driveway of the Briscoe Ranch. As she stepped out of her Lexus sedan she allowed her eyes to roam the landscape, taking in the familiar sites that always reminded her that this was her true home. Even the sleek, three-story, penthouse apartment she owned on McKinney Avenue with its spectacular downtown views didn’t give her the sense of homecoming she felt when she stepped back on the wealth of property that had been her parents’ dreams come true.
Briscoe Ranch was well over eight hundred acres of working cattle ranch and an equestrian center. Back in the day, her father, Edward Briscoe, had been one of the original black cowboys. Not long after the birth of their three daughters, Edward and his wife, Hazel Briscoe, had expanded his Texas longhorn operation, adding an entertainment complex that specialized in corporate and private client services. The ranch now housed two twenty-thousand square feet event barns and a country bed and breakfast. With the property being central to Austin, Houston, Dallas and Fort Worth, Briscoe Ranch had soon made quite a name for itself. Marah couldn’t begin to imagine her father ever giving it up.
Familiar chatter greeted her at the front entrance, her father’s booming voice calling her name from the kitchen. Marah could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t so happy with her. Before she could make her way into the family room, her older sister Eden appeared at her side, her head waving from side to side.
“I swear, Marah! Why do you have to keep Daddy riled up?” she said with a hushed breath.
Marah shrugged. “Don’t start, Eden,” she answered, her eyes rolling as she followed on her sister’s heels.
Her twin was seated in the kitchen at the center island, shaking her head knowingly at Marah. The two women were spitting images of each other from the wealth of their curls to their warm café-au-lait complexions and thin lips. The only physical attribute that separated one from the other was the last of the excess baby weight Marla still carried around her hips and midsection.
Where the twins were the spitting image of their father, older sister Eden had taken after their mother with her deep chocolate-brown complexion, large, round, blue-black eyes and jet-black hair. Every time the family looked at Eden they were reminded of the woman, a thought which sometimes brought joy and sometimes dropped a cloud of melancholy over their spirits, knowing that Hazel Briscoe wouldn’t be there for times like now when one or the other needed to be kept in line.
“What?” Marah said, tossing the other women an icy glare.
“You know what, young lady,” Edward said, turning from the pot of chili he was cooking on the stovetop to face her. “What did you think you were doing?”
“Stopping you from making a big mistake.”
“Munchkin,” he said, calling her by the pet name he’d christened her with when she’d been just weeks old. “My selling this ranch is not a mistake.”
Marah rolled her eyes, moving to take the empty seat beside Eden. She leaned into her sister’s shoulder. “Which one of you told on me?”
Eden shrugged, tossing a look toward Marla.
“Well, I didn’t,” Marla said. “Daddy was the one who called to tell me.”
Marah