Always Dakota - Debbie Macomber [55]
Sheryl turned to smile at him. She opened the office door and laughing, yanked him inside, closing the door after him. The room was pitch-dark. His back was against the wall, and before Matt had a chance to find his bearings, Sheryl’s arms were around him.
“Oh, Matt,” she cried. “I’ve missed you so damn much.” She moved against him, seducing him with her body, kissing him while her breasts massaged his chest.
“Sheryl…”
He wasn’t allowed to finish. Her mouth was all over his, open, moist, insistent. He jerked his head back and forth, but all that did was encourage her. Backed against the wall, he couldn’t easily pull away.
“Tell me you’ve missed me. I need to hear it,” she begged.
“Sheryl, stop!”
“No,” she whimpered, “I need you so much.” Sheryl’s hands were busy in the dark, tugging his shirt free of his waist. Then she was rubbing her palms up his bare chest.
“Stop!” he shouted, gripping her hard by the shoulders, finally disengaging her with a shove.
Breathing hard, Sheryl went still.
“I don’t want to do this,” he told her, struggling to hold back his irritation.
“I know this isn’t the ideal place to make love, but I’m so hungry for you, I—”
“I’m not making love to you, Sheryl. I’m married now.”
He heard her sigh. “Don’t I know it. But that doesn’t have to change anything. Not with you and me. We have an understanding.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You don’t mean that,” she insisted, sounding close to tears.
By this time, Matt’s eyes had adjusted to the dark, but he still had trouble making out details. He felt behind him for a light switch. Nothing.
“You want me,” Sheryl whispered. “Your body tells me you do.” As if to prove her point, she started to unbuckle his belt. He stopped her.
“Like I said, it’s over. Don’t call me again.”
“Oh, am I causing problems between you and Margaret?” she asked in a falsely sweet voice.
“The only person you’re causing problems with is the housekeeper.”
Sheryl obviously thought that was a joke and laughed softly. “Okay, okay, but I had to see you.”
“No, you didn’t. And like I said, I don’t want you phoning the Triple C again.”
“It got you here, didn’t it?”
Matt groaned, understanding her game. She intended to use those phone calls to blackmail him. Either he went along with her little scheme or she’d continue making trouble for him.
“Come on, Matt, give me what I want.” Her arms began to slither around his neck.
He closed his hands on her wrists and wrenched himself free before she could kiss him again. As it was, he feared the heavy scent of her perfume would cling to him. He didn’t want to think how Margaret would react if she happened to catch a whiff of that. His sole purpose in being here was to get Sheryl out of their lives, not to create more problems.
“I mean it,” he growled. “Don’t call me again.”
“You can’t be serious.” Her voice held a sharp edge.
Good! Maybe she’d finally believe him. “I’m not the right man for you.”
“The hell you aren’t,” she snapped. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our plan.”
“Plan? We didn’t have any plan.”
“You were going to marry Margaret, and then divorce her in a year and marry me.”
Matt shook his head firmly. That he’d even listened to anything so outrageous nauseated him.
“You married her, and there’s no way in hell you’ll ever convince me you did it for love.”
“I’m not divorcing Margaret,” he insisted. “Certainly not for you.”
Matt winced as Sheryl swore, using language he’d rarely heard, even from the toughened cowhands. “You can’t cut me out of this now,” she yelled.
He was astounded—she honestly believed he’d followed through with her callous scheme. “It’s over, Sheryl,” he said quietly. “Way over.”
“That’s what you think,” she said in vicious tones. “We haven’t even started yet. No one double-crosses me. No one. You’re going to be sorry you did this, Matthew Eilers.”
“Yeah, whatever, but I’m telling you for the last time that I’m not going to let you blackmail me. If you’re thinking of telling Margaret about our so-called