Книга - The Unlikely Bodyguard

The Unlikely Bodyguard
Amy J. Fetzer


THE TEMPTING, TEMPORARY ASSIGNMENT Tired of being Miss Goody Two-shoes, Calli Thornton was ready to kick up her heels for a little adventure. She was a woman with a mission. But a sexy stranger thwarted every opportunity. It almost seemed as if this man had decided to save Calli from herself. Rancher Gabe Griffin had been secretly hired to protect Calli.But Gabe couldn't even keep his professional - let alone physical - distance when he moved her to his ranch for safekeeping. Heck, he couldn't even protect himself from falling hard and fast for the blue-eyed beauty. But a love-'em-and-leave-'em man like Gabe could never give Calli the forever she deserved. Could he?







Making Love. The Words Whispered Through Gabe Griffin’s Brain. (#u243e59c9-0132-52c7-9935-eb585fe8e340)Letter to Reader (#udc19d064-0293-5171-bde3-845548bdc04c)Title Page (#u3791819d-3cd5-5cf7-9b05-1527d53b6aa1)About the Author (#ue2300046-2b98-5ef2-99cb-66396a22d7ab)Dedication (#u928bb154-31ea-5d85-b485-2fc3b2756240)Chapter One (#ufb0d249f-31d7-5c94-9f46-d56e6913e0b2)Chapter Two (#ub77c6fc0-09be-5f91-91d7-cd7d12c50e69)Chapter Three (#u6ab85d28-3090-5d5a-8521-c88a79e0622a)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Making Love. The Words Whispered Through Gabe Griffin’s Brain.

He could honestly say he’d never done that with a woman. Sex, yes. But love? He wasn’t capable of loving someone, so the matter was insignificant. He cast another look at Calli Thornton, and she reached across to brush crumbs from his shirt. Her every gesture was giving and caring.

And he was lying to her.

A heaviness swelled in his chest, and Gabe had to look away. One thought kept coming back to him, making him ache for Calli in a way he’d never thought possible.

Will she forgive me when she learns the truth?

For the first time in years, Gabe allowed himself to hope for the impossible.


Dear Reader,

Where do you read Silhouette Desire? Sitting in your favorite chair? How about standing in line at the market or swinging in the sunporch hammock? Or do you hold out the entire day, waiting for all your distractions to dissolve around you, only to open a Desire novel once you’re in a relaxing bath or resting against your softest pillow...? Wherever you indulge in Silhouette Desire, we know you do so with anticipation, and that’s why we bring you the absolute best in romance fiction.

This month, look forward to talented Jennifer Greene’s A Baby in His In-Box, where a sexy tutor gives March’s MAN OF THE MONTH private lessons on sudden fatherhood. And in the second adorable tale of Elizabeth Bevarly’s BLAME IT ON BOB series, Beauty and the Brain, a lady discovers she’s still starry-eyed over her secret high school crush Next, Susan Crosby takes readers on The Great Wife Search in Bride Candidate #9.

And don’t miss a single kiss delivered by these delectable men: a roguish rancher in Amy J. Fetzer’s The Unlikely Bodyguard, the strong, silent corporate hunk in the latest book in the RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM series, Switched at the Altar, by Metsy Hingle; and Eileen Wilks’s mouthwatering honorable Texas hero in Just a Little Bit Pregnant.

So, no matter where you read, I know what you’ll be reading—all six of March’s irresistible Silhouette Desire love stories!

Regards,






Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Desire

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

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The Unlikely Bodyguard

Amy J. Fetzer












www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


AMY J. FETZER

was born in New England and raised all over the world. Married nineteen years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.


To

Chef Sara E. Baker,

for all those delicious details about dangerous men

and

Darrell L. Mitchell

who has hero material written all over him,

even if he doesn’t believe it.


One

Gallina Carryon, New Mexico

Every head in the joint turned when she stepped inside.

She hesitated, surveying the dim roadhouse, the neon glare of bar lights illuminating her from behind, leaving her face cast in shadows. Women spared her a glance. Men strained for a better look. Angel set his glass aside and stared. She walked slowly to the bar, the click of her heels marking the sultry shift of hips wrapped in a tight, black leather skirt. She had muscular legs up the kazoo and when she propped her elbows on the bar, her short leather jacket creaked.

From the description he bad. he’d expected her to look like a schoolgirl. Not a centerfold. Black leather, tight and shaping her figure, told Angel and every man around exactly what was beneath. But even that body didn’t compare to her face. A classic, pure beauty, he thought, like Snow White.

Hell. He’d had stranger fantasies.

She ordered a shot of tequila in a voice like rustling silk.

A mirror, dirty and cloudy from nicotine, ran the length of the wall and in it he watched her slide folded bills across the beer-splattered wood to the bartender. She picked up the shot and tossed it back. The glass came away from her mouth slowly, her tongue sliding across her lips. Abruptly, she turned the empty jigger rim down on the bar and ordered another. While the bartender poured, she took a step back, her hands braced as she stretched a bit. Several men lining the wood rail leaned back to inspect the shapely curve of her bottom and the black stockings seaming her incredible legs.

She didn’t belong here. She stood out against the dingy bar like a baby in a wrestling ring. What did she hope to accomplish in The Rusty Nail?

Ike Granson, a petty thief and dealer, moved close to her, his voice too low to carry as he slid onto the stool beside hers. She tucked jaw-length black hair behind one ear, cocked her head to look at him and smiled God, what a smile, Angel thought, and let his gaze discreetly follow her as she joined the man on the dance floor. The haze of smoke hovered around them like a filthy curtain. Ike bent, his oily hair spilling over his face as he whispered in her ear, his hand groping her spine like a lazy masseur. She stiffened and stopped, then she reared back and made a fist. Great.

Hail Mary, Calli thought. She was in trouble now. In over her head. Way in. She just had to go hunting for excitement, and as luck would have it, she’d picked the one club that promised a little too much local color. She’d never done anything quite this adventurous in her life and now that her first vacation in three years was swiftly going downhill, she wanted to just get away without getting her throat cut, or raped, or whatever. And not let anyone know how scared and stupid she felt. As casually as she could, she unfurled her fist.

“Ah, no thanks, pal. I’m not looking for that kind of company.” Not yours at least. Ike smelled of pot, B.O. and booze. But he looked even worse. Greasy. And she’d had enough of being pawed. Stepping out from under his groping, she turned and walked back toward her seat at the bar. He caught her wrist, yanking her into his arms. Her hair spread over her face and he stroked it back. Yuk. Even his nails were dirty.

“You’re out here showin’ it off, slut, and I want some.”

He pulled her flat against his bony body, arms tight around her, his hot, foul breath in her face and whispered what he really wanted to do with her.

Appalled, Calli asked, “Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?”

He scowled. “Don’t be talkin’ ’bout my mother ”

Careful, a voice in her head warned, sounding too much like Sister Mary Elizabeth. “Look. What part of no don’t you understand, so I can explain it?”

His face glowed with anger, his hold tightened. Uh-oh. Her mouth was going to get her into bigger trouble, she thought as she tried to peel his hands from her waist. She couldn’t get a good grip Fear stung up her spine. She kept telling herself she could get out of this. She could.

“I ain’t never seen a woman turn you down that quick, Ike.”

Ike’s gaze slashed to an obese man lingering close. “And you ain’t gonna.”

His one hand drove lower, cupping her buttocks, and Calli’s stomach pitched.

“I got a car out back. I can do ya quick.”

She struggled. “Your charm amazes me. Ike, is it?” He grew ruder, and since he wasn’t getting the message, she smacked his cheek, hard. His hiss of pain sounded loud in the suddenly quiet bar. She could feel people staring, yet he didn’t release her. Instead, he smiled. Good Lord, he liked it, she realized, shoving at his chest. When that didn’t dislodge him, she resorted to the only thing possible in this situation. She ground her four-inch stiletto heel down on his instep. He howled like a coyote and let her go.

So much for five years of karate, Calli thought, tugging at the hem of her jacket. “Now do you understand no?”

But his friend, the rudest-looking man in the free world, decided it was his turn and pushed his huge self off the bar stool. The motion spread open his leather vest and Calli was surprised to see that his nipples were tattooed like eyeballs.

“Good God. Did that hurt?” she asked, wide-eyed, then composed herself. “Of course it did ” She met his muddy gaze. “It’s not very attractive, you know.”

He had arms like ham shanks and she should shut up, she knew. Ike was still soothing his foot, his eyes threatening retaliation, and Calli decided that an excellent time to leave was five minutes ago.

“I, ah, I’ve got to go,” she said in a rush, easing back toward the door with tiny steps. “Ah—thanks for the dance,” she said, peering around the fat man at Ike. The sisters of St. Andrew’s Orphanage had insisted that saying please and thank you would always get one further than one thought. The good sisters needed a reality check, she decided.

“You’re not leavin’, little girl,” he threatened, advancing on her. Calli’s wide gaze shot between the two men. She instantly weighed her options, and a knee to the groin in the hope that his descendants would come out his throat was not one of them. And with his mammoth arms, any victory she could manage would last about two seconds.

“I really must,” she said to his beefy chest, and hated the tremor in her voice. Hated the fear beginning to settle in the pit of her stomach. When he raised his hand to grab or strike her, Calli back-stepped faster and right into an unyielding body.

Just as quickly, a palm closed heavily over her left shoulder. Good God, she was surrounded. The fat man stopped, mid-grasp. Calli struggled under her captor’s grasp, but she couldn’t move, as if the hand was pushing her down into the concrete floor. I’m toast. She obeyed the silent command to be still, suppressing the fear singing through her body as the fat man’s gaze shot to somewhere behind her.

High behind her.

And the angry flush in his face drained white.

“Leave her alone, Tiny.” The voice was whiskey-rough and low. Undeniably sexy.

“She had it comin’, Angel.”

There was a stretch of silence before The Voice said, “Try again.”

The unspoken threat hung in the dirty air.

Tiny’s lips thinned, his eyes narrowing to slits.

“Step away from her.”

Tiny obeyed, moving back a bit.

Very carefully, Calli turned her head and stared straight at a throat ringed by the collar of a dark T-shirt. She let her gaze climb, up the stubbled jaw and past the most incredible lips to a pair of frosty, mint-green eyes. He has the longest lashes, she thought absently. And a pierced ear. She wet her lips. This was Angel? He looked anything but. Tanned skin. Dark hair. Too pale eyes. He was danger. Real danger. There wasn’t a sound in the bar except the jukebox and Calli shivered. Angel kept his gaze on Tiny, even though she knew he was aware of her stare. Calli couldn’t remember seeing him when she came in. Hard to believe she’d missed him. But she didn’t need rescuing.

“Back off, Angel.”

His gaze slid to hers and Calli felt a jolt of primal sexuality shoot down her body to her pumps. He arched a brow, sinister, like a wing lifting for flight. “You want to go with him?”

God, that voice. She glanced at Tiny. “No.”

“Then I suggest you shut up.”

Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“You ain’t takin’ her,” Tiny found the nerve to say.

The liquor warming her veins made her bold. “And neither are you ” She took advantage of his surprise and ducked under Angel’s hold, slipped between the two men and walked back to the bar. Go! Leave now! a righteous voice screamed in her head. Instead, she fished in her purse, then slapped money on the counter to keep her hands from shaking. The bartender sloshed another shot into her glass, smirking to himself. In the mirror, she noticed that Tiny and Angel were still staring each other down like two gunfighters.

Finally, Tiny backed off, walked to a booth and slid his big body behind the table, next to Ike.

Angel turned his head to look at her. She met his gaze in the mirror, her drink stilling halfway to her lips. She felt like a fly caught in amber. Even from across the room it hurt to look into those eyes. A raw, hot feeling scrambled through her and the most erotic images came to mind. Then she blinked and shrugged away the playground of her imagination. Deliberately, she finished off the tequila. It burned all the way to her empty stomach. The nuns, no doubt, were saying novenas over her debauched soul now.

She felt a man stop behind her. “Let’s go,” he said to her reflection.

“Get lost.”

His eyes narrowed. “You either walk out with me now or your parents will be identifying you from a toe tag.”

“That would be hard,” she said, facing him, “since I don’t have any.” She paused. “Parents, not toes.”

She didn’t notice his hard eyes soften a fraction as her gaze slid beyond him to Tiny and Ike. They were glaring laser beams across the room and into her face, and she tried not to let it scare her. She didn’t know if it was stupidity or nerve that kept her there, but she wanted to experience danger. Live a little on the edge. And this macho hunk in tight jeans wasn’t going to stop her. Not tonight. She’d been a good girl all her life and look what it had gotten her. A nice apartment, even nicer friends and coworkers. And absolute, suffocating, boredom. At least this got her adrenaline running.

She looked back at Angel. “Who made you my protector?”

“Unfortunate timing.” He ought to let her suffer with Tiny and Ike, but he couldn’t. It meant her survival that he get her out of here. He took a step closer and she flattened her back against the bar, her elbows propped on the top. She gave him a bored look he didn’t believe.

“You want me to come, with you?”

His gaze slid suggestively over her and his chiseled lips quirked. “I haven’t touched you yet.” She inhaled, her gaze faltering, and he slipped closer, slapping his hands on either side of her and leaning down into her face. “And yes, I want you to leave with me.”

“No way.” He could be an ax murderer for all she knew. Though some inner voice doubted it. Of course, that inner voice had told her this place would be tame.

He gazed into her blue eyes and felt the entire bar watching them. “Are you that willing to die, lady?”

She scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Look at Tiny.”

She did. A switchblade lay on the table, Tiny’s stubby fingers spinning it, yet his gaze was on her. Pride made her lift her chin, glance back to the bartender and order another drink.

Angel’s expression sharpened and before she reached for the fresh glass, he grabbed her hand, ducked and tossed her up across his shoulder.

She shrieked.

The club rumbled with low amusement, as if this occurred every night. Angel clamped a hand familiarly on her upper thigh, grabbed her purse and strode to the door, kicking it open and leaving The Rusty Nail. She fought him every step, wiggling and pounding his back, pushing up and doing everything she could to get free. But Angel just kept walking, a slow saunter. His long stride pounded the breath from her lungs.

“Help! Kidnapping!”

“Shut up.” His tone was infinitely calm.

“Rape!”

“I’ve had sex in a lot of ways, baby, but this is next to impossible.”

The gravel of the parking lot crunched beneath his boots and he kept walking.

“You son of a bitch!”

“That’s likely.”

He stopped and hoisted her off his shoulder, letting his hands smooth provocatively over her thighs and buttocks as he lowered her to her feet.

Calh stumbled on the uneven ground, red-faced with outrage as she drew back her arm. She slapped him, hard. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink as her handprint blossomed on his face, and Calli realized he’d allowed her to do it.

“Happy?”

“No.”

Without taking his gaze from her, he opened her purse and rummaged for a key. She gasped, trying to take it back, but he held it out of her reach.

“Behave,” he warned, her hotel and car keys in his hand. He tossed the purse at her chest and she caught it.

“Give those to me.”

He didn’t, and moved beside her, hunching down to unlock the car door. His face was inches from hers. “Get in.”

Calli blinked, then looked down. “How did you know it was mine?”

He smirked. “Wild guess.”

Angel walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. When she didn’t move, he propped his arm on the door frame and studied her. She was fire-breathing mad; her small fists clenched, her features tight. He couldn’t resist goading her. “Hey, I can drive away in this fifty-thousand dollar car, alone, or you can come with me.”

She yanked open the door, glaring at him as she dropped into the seat, venting her anger by slamming the door. He’d ruined everything. She’d just wanted to cross the line into the danger zone and he was bent on playing chaperone. Terrific. At this rate, her tombstone would likely read, “Here lies the vestal virgin, untouched by any man.” Or by any excitement.

“I should have you arrested.”

“Good luck finding a cop around here.” He started the engine and left the lot, swinging by a motorcycle long enough to lock it down and unclip the helmet from the seat. He tossed it into the back of the car and drove away.

Calli huffed and stared out the window. She wasn’t afraid of him. Maybe because he had come to her defense, even though she’d had the situation under control. Calli sunk into the seat a little, the truth finding her. Who was she fooling? Outnumbered to start with, Tiny would have pounded her into the concrete like a toothpick into a stick of butter if Angel hadn’t stepped in. The fact irked her.

She slanted a quick look at her rescuer. He was so annoyingly calm when she wanted to kick something, preferably him. Well. There was always tomorrow, Sir Galahad. She hadn’t come all the way from Texas just to spend her time watching TV. She could go back to the Nail or some other dive anytime.

He drove without talking, but Calli could hear his breathing, smell the scent of him. Not cologne, but a fragrance like nothing she knew. Wind and freedom—and risk. She cast a look at him. He was glancing at her legs. She inched the skirt down.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a bully?”

“Yeah.”

“Arrogant?”

A pause, then, “Yeah.”

“A lousy conversationalist?”

He slanted her a quick glance, the hard line of his mouth quirking a fraction.

“Sexy?”

His lips tightened. “I don’t want anything from you—” He shot her a confused look. “You got a name?”

“Should have asked that when you decided to play Tarzan and throw me over your shoulder.”

“I could have thrown you to the wolves instead.”

“I would have survived.”

He snorted. “Tiny isn’t so tiny when he’s pushed, lady.”

She caught the demand for her name. She ignored it. He grabbed her purse, yanking it when she tried to take it, digging one-handed until he found her wallet. He flipped it open, sliding a glance at the name, then her.

“Hey, Calli.”

Oh, God, that voice was to die for, low and raspy. Annoyed by the thought, Calli grabbed back her things, wishing she could hit him. But he was driving. And she wasn’t stupid enough to get herself killed because she was feeling manipulated. Feeling? It was more like being bulldozed by a rampaging demigod of badness.

He slowed the car to a halt and shut off the motor, removing the key and tossing it, with her hotel key, into her lap. He grabbed his helmet from the back seat and met her gaze. “Stay out of the Nail. You don’t belong.”

Before she could respond with something scathing, he left the car, slamming the door before walking quickly away. She watched him, admiring his taut behind in tight jeans, the long lope of his stride, then she dragged her gaze to her surroundings. She was at her hotel. She looked down at the label on her hotel key.

Calli smacked the dashboard.

God, she hated being patronized by men. Every man at the factory, even Daniel O’Hara, her boss, liked playing a father figure. If she’d had parents, they would likely have done it, too Her seven chefs hovered over her as if she couldn’t get dressed without help and if any man became interested in her and wasn’t the epitome of quality, The Boys did their best to destroy him.

People looked at her and saw a “good girl” raised by nuns, with the morals of a saint, though the latter was a slight exaggeration. Obviously the dark Angel had seen it, too. Though one look at him and any morals she’d learned had gone straight out with the used holy water. Oh, she was grateful that men didn’t think she was easy, and she supposed there were still some women who wouldn’t mind the Goody Two-shoes, picket fence, P.T.A.-domestic goddess image. But Calli loathed it. She hated how guys cleaned up the conversation when she entered a room, the jokes dying before the punch line. Or worse, clammed up altogether. She wanted people to say exactly what they were feeling.

Even the men she’d managed to find the time to date recently were agonizingly polite, obsequious. And painfully dull. They didn’t talk to her, they chatted, as if she couldn’t handle anything remotely stressing. If they only knew her past, she thought with a flash of memory. Calh wanted more. Of what, she wasn’t sure.

She felt extraordinarily restrained by the image she needed to project for her career and the one struggling for escape. She looked down at her clothes and smirked. This wasn’t exactly her usual style, but she felt incredibly daring and lush in leather. And beneath it all was a wild assortment of Brazilian lingerie that made her feel gloriously wicked. That was her only private justice, like snubbing the world when she wore tailored designer suits. For beneath every one of them was unchained seduction in lace and garters.

For an instant, she wondered if Angel knew, since he’d had his hand halfway up her skirt when he’d carted her out of the bar.

She slid over the gearshift and jammed in the key. The engine revved and she was turning to look behind her when the car door suddenly opened. Before she could speak, he reached across and turned off the car, then pulled her too easily from behind the wheel.

Where had he come from? she wanted to know. She’d watched him walk away!

He held her by the arms to his eye level. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

His eyes were like shaved ice. Scary. “Of course not.”

“Then what the hell were you doing?” He shook her and one of her shoes plopped to the ground.

“That’s not your business, now is it, Angel?” Where he got that name, she couldn’t begin to wonder. He was more like Lucifer. Dark, lean, with lots of muscle beneath that jean jacket. She felt it when he’d carried her so humiliatingly from the bar. She saw it now in his hauntingly pale eyes. God, they were like crystals, sparkling with secrets. The power of them worried her.

“Do you mind?” She brought her shoeless toe to the crotch of his jeans.

“Don’t play there, little tigress,” he rasped, and something ignited inside Calli.

“I hadn’t planned on it. Well-placed kicks work so much better.” She tapped him lightly and his eyes flared. “Put me down.”

He did, abruptly, releasing her as if his hands were burned, and stepping back.

Jamming on her loose shoe, she slid back into her car. She didn’t look at him, but she could feel him; his stance casual, his hips slanted, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. And those eyes. “I don’t know what possessed you to interfere in my life, Angel Whoever-you-are, but I can take care of myself.” Where was that car key?

“I’ll remember that when I’m reading about your murder in tomorrow’s paper.”

“You’re being a tad possessive toward someone you don’t know.” She found the key.

Angel watched her search for the ignition, three times. “You’re drunk. Miss Thornton.”

She held up her hand. “Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we? I’m smashed.”

“And who will you kill on the road just to spite me?”

She sighed, slowly lowering her head to the steering wheel. The horn beeped and she flinched. He was right, of course. Pride and rebellion could be taken only so far. Removing her keys, she swung her legs to the left and climbed from the BMW, closing the door. The following silence hung like a knife between them, sharp and dangerous.

She stared up at him. His face was expressionless. She didn’t think anyone could do that, wipe every ounce of emotion from his face, but he had. She staggered a bit, then bent and took off her shoes. Angel’s eyes flared as she straightened.

She was just a little thing.

“Don’t let my size mislead,” she said, recognizing his surprise. “I really am tougher than I look.”

“Same goes here.”

She let her gaze rip and slide over him, down to the dark, snakeskin boots, then back up, smiling at the gold loop in his ear. “I can’t imagine how.” She turned and pointed her oblong key chain at the car. The lights went off, the locks snapped and the alarm set with a double beep. She leveled a side glance at him. “Bet you wish you could lock me up that well, huh, Angel?”

Yes, he thought. He did. But what he wanted was to lock himself up with her.

“G’night, Angel, honey.”

She brushed past him as she headed straight to the hotel, her shoes dangling from her fingertips like dainty slippers. His gaze swept her, clinging to her behind shifting inside the leather until she slipped into the hotel room. God, she was one wild number, he thought No, he corrected, she was playing at being wild. That she hadn’t bothered to set the car alarm outside the Nail told him she’d no idea where she was sticking that pretty nose and was damn lucky that her car hadn’t been stripped when they’d come out. If she knew anything about The Rusty Nail, she wouldn’t have set one polished toe in there. He’d read her instantly when she had. Her clothes were too expensive, too tailored. They spoke of money. And her white BMW screamed it.

He leaned against a street lamp, watching until her lights went out. Then he hitchhiked a ride back to the Nail for his bike. Go home, Calli Thornton., he thought with a ride past the hotel and a final look-see for her car. A good woman like that didn’t belong here. Ever. And certainly not near him.

Gabriel “Angel” Griffin knew he shouldn’t get too close to her. Just her perfume drove him mad. God, everything about her drove him nuts. She was sensual energy and didn’t realize it. He’d spent the past two nights trying to reason her into a neat isolated corner of his mind. He had to, had to go back to feeling the way he had before he’d laid eyes on her.

Like nothing.

Feeling old and empty at thirty?

Or keep worrying over a black-haired beauty with a sultry walk and eyes as bright as a New Mexico sky? He wished he could dismiss her from his mind, but he couldn’t. He’d made a promise.

And as he relaxed on the seat of his bike, boots propped on the handlebars, he kept one eye peeled on the entrance to Damien’s Haven. She was really pushing it this time. Damien’s looked like the average yuppie nightclub on the outside; tasteful decor, a bouncer and a line to get in. But inside, it was a designer-draped cesspool. More drug traffic went through that place than a Colombian cartel, bringing out the wired and weird. And Calli was in the center of it.

Last night it was the streets, conversations with people who would sell their souls—and hers—for a few bucks. He’d been there, too, she just hadn’t known it. For three days he’d watched her push the limits of her safety, a couple of fairly harmless admirers getting a little too familiar with that sweet behind, a kid trying to snatch her purse, unsuccessfully. So far nothing serious, not that every man within sight came to her rescue just because of her looks and the payback they might receive. The paybacks brought him out of hiding and under her nose tonight.

Rooting in his pockets, he found a half-crushed cigarette and slid it between his lips. Then he hunted for a match, lit it, cupping the flame and squinting through the smoke at the entrance to Damien’s It was wide and he could scrutinize at least two-thirds of the club from here. And her. Or he would be inside right now. He drew on the smoke, exhaling in a short stream, then made a face at the stale taste and pitched it into the street. He saw her move through the club and his chest tightened unfamiliarly as she neared. She paused at the entrance, shaking her head to someone he couldn’t see, then left. She maintained even steps and Angel wondered if she’d had anything to drink tonight. She hadn’t the past two nights.

She strode toward her car and he enjoyed the sight of those high-heeled legs. It was leather night again. This time, flame red. He liked it. Then she saw him and stopped in the center of the street. Horns beeped and traffic moved around her. The streetlights showered a dingy yellow over her and she continued, pausing briefly to let a car pass.

“How much do you get for baby-sitting?” she called.

He arched a brow, his gaze gliding heavily over her. “You’re no baby.”

She cocked her hip and smiled “Nice of you to notice.”

“Hard not to.”

He liked the faint blush stealing into her face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one. A real one.

“You’re.becoming a pest. Don’t you have a life, a wife, or somewhere else to be?”

Slowly he shook his head. She walked toward him and stopped beside the bike. She planted one hand on her hip and looked him over so thoroughly, Gabe felt his groin tighten. God. Did she know what she did to a man? She was temptation incarnate and Gabe knew he couldn’t do what he was thinking. He swung his boots off the handlebars and sat upright.

But just the same, he let his thoughts multiply. And he ended up with her image parading through his mind without a stitch of clothing.

“You’re cramping my style, Angel.”

He didn’t like that she called him that. It wasn’t his real name. Some whore on the street gave it to him after his first lay when he was fourteen and he could never shake it. After so many years, he let it ride. But right now, he hated it and wanted to hear her call him Gabe. He shifted, straddling the bike. “Get on.”

Her look was bland. “Get real ” She moved toward her car, turning off the alarm and opening the locks. He started the motorcycle, riding up beside her and blocking her from opening the door. The noise of the engine settled low.

She sent him an annoyed look. “I don’t need rescuing ”

“Are you admitting you did the other night?”

“I’ll admit to being drunk and nothing more.”

“Puked all night, did you?”

She blinked, all innocence and smiles. “My, how attractive of you to mention it.”

He smirked, looked away for a second, then stilled, his gaze somewhere beyond her. “Make some interesting friends tonight?” He inclined his head to Damien’s and the three men hanging around the doorway. She looked.

“Damn!” Pear—real fear—colored her voice as two of the three men pushed away from the wall and headed toward them. One took a drag on a joint, then snuffed it in his palm and shoved it into his pocket before stepping off the curb. Real bad company, Gabe thought, remembering one of them from the newspaper. But Gabe recognized the look as their eyes traveled over her, her expensive car. She was ready cash for them and nothing more. Then they spotted him.

“Get on, Calli.”

“Look, Angel. I don’t need your protection.” She leaned in, her face inches from his, her hand on her car door handle. “Go find someone who does.”

She was just too close, he thought. He wanted to taste her. All of her.

His lips tightened into a grim line as she tried opening the door, giving him an impatient glare to move his bike. Then her gaze darted frantically beyond him to the men.

“Don’t be a hero, Calli.” He could tell she was scared. “You can’t handle them and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you’d move that hunk of steel!” She jerked on the door.

Without another word, Gabe slapped his arm around her waist and dragged her across his lap. Her legs kicked up, her elbow driving into his stomach, her fist immediately clipping him on the chin and knocking his teeth together, stunning him. But he was stronger and faster and wrestled the keys from her fist, then booted the car door shut and rode away. He twisted slightly and set the alarm, then waved at the men in the street.

She grappled for balance and he hoisted her tightly between his thighs.

Calli glared at him.

Gabe rubbed his chin. “Not a bad left cross,” he said, amused.

Her lip curled in an unattractive snarl. He dumped her keys into her lap and she scrambled before they fell to the asphalt.

Calli made a frustrated sound. “This is kidnapping, you know.”

He glanced to the left as traffic moved alongside him. “Sue me.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”

Was that supposed to please her? “You are by far the stubbornnest, most irritating man I’ve ever met.”

The wind smoothed her hair back and on the short stretch to the next light, he slumped comfortably in the seat. “Lucky you.” He’d met worse, a lot worse. “You didn’t cross your pals, yet. I could be an angel.” He flashed her a grin that looked more like a shark baring its teeth before a kill.

And she’d had enough of him. “Stop. Stop!”

“Call!—?”

“I said stop, dammit!”

He pulled the bike to the side of the street.

Calli shifted, facing him, casually draping her legs over his thigh as if they were in a living room and he was the sofa. “Why do you keep kidnapping me, butting in where you’re not wanted?”

Gabe let his gaze slide over her legs, the skirt hiked up so that he could see the tops of her red stockings, lace, and the shadow between. He swallowed and kept his hands away from her. “Because I was watching a lamb walk into a slaughter. Again.”

“A lamb? Me?” She tapped her chest, tapered nails clicking against the zipper of her jacket.

He gestured to the street. “You see any other senseless female walking into the sludge of humanity without a thought to her life?”

She reared back, frowning. “I wouldn’t call them sludge, exactly, and what do you care about my life? You don’t even know me.”

“I know I don’t want to be identifying you from—”

She put up a hand. “I get the picture—a toe tag.”

Calli avoided his gaze, wondering how she was going to dump him and still avoid those other “friends.”

- But Gabe saw the cogs moving behind those expressive eyes and said, “Night’s over, Cal.”

Her gaze slid to his, deep blue challenging white-green. Calli knew she would lose. He would camp out on her doorstep and play he-man if she didn’t go to bed meekly. She didn’t know how she knew that, but she did.

She threw her legs off his and straddled the bike, trying unsuccessfully to keep her skirt down.

He heard the bitterness in her voice when she said, “Then take me home, bad boy.”

Gabe leaned forward, her back pressed to his chest and he ached to run his hands up those legs and beneath the leather skirt. “You wouldn’t know bad,” he whispered in her ear, “if it was right behind you.”

She turned her head, meeting his piercing gaze head-on. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. Or you wouldn’t be riding with me.”

“Like I have a choice?”

He gunned the engine, spitting pebbles as he shot away from the curb. Her body mashed back against his and he slipped one arm around her waist. Her breath caught, then released slowly, and Gabe liked the soft, shuddering sound he felt rather than heard.

But he didn’t like how satisfying she felt in his arms. Or how much he craved it when he’d gone without human contact for so long. The temptation for more told him to send her packing, now. And the only reason this trusting female would split, was if she realized she’d trusted the wrong kind of man. He wasn’t supposed to like her, just keep her sweet butt from ending up on a slab. That’s all he was being paid for, nothing else.


Two

They rode in silence, the wind whipping at their clothes, dust curling behind the Harley. His arm tightened around her waist as he tipped the bike on a turn. The big machine vibrating between her legs had nothing to do with her quickening breath. It was him, all him. Tucked snugly behind her, his thighs encasing hers, she felt like she was wearing him. His band lay splayed across her stomach and she sensed every digit, his wide palm, his arm curling around her hip. Calli hadn’t experienced anything quite this powerful in her life and she closed her eyes, wishing she could control her reaction to him. But this was what she’d wanted. Risk. Danger.

The wind friction did nothing to hide. the sound of his breathing in her ear. She didn’t try talking to him. But then his hand shifted as their speed increased, moving a fraction lower and with her legs spread, she experienced a sudden rush of heat. He must have sensed it, disliked it, for he immediately brought his hand to the steering grip. Then a moment later, he guided the bike into a parking lot. Her hotel again, she thought grimly as he pulled the Harley in front of her room. Above them neon lights flashed Vacancy.

He shoved the kickstand down and shut off the motor. The blunted silence strained the taut wire between them and she didn’t turn to look at him, watching his hand flex on the grip before it lowered to remove the key.

She felt him pocket the key and she shifted on the narrow seat, meeting his gaze. Something moved beneath those ice-green eyes before the look was shuttered to emptiness. He appeared relaxed, arms folded over his chest, his back braced on the bar, his legs spread. Her gaze followed the line from thigh to his flat stomach, then up to his face. His lips quirked. She stared him down, her chin lifting a bit. She could admire a good-looking man if she wanted, she thought petulantly. She might have been raised in a Catholic orphanage, but she was, by no means, a nun.

She shifted between his legs, her buttocks brushing the insides of his thighs as she slid her leg over the bike. She stood and the ground rolled. How could one drink, hours ago, make her feel this dizzy?

“You look a little pale.”

Was that concern in his voice real? “Actually, I had only one drink around seven, but I feel like I’m going to wretch.”

His brows furrowed for a split second. “Not on me.” He gave her a soft shove toward her room.

She took a couple of steps, then cocked a look at him. He was admiring her behind and she’d caught him at it. So. He wasn’t as indifferent as he seemed.

“Want to come in?” Careful, Calli.

“And watch you get sick?”

Her smile mocked. “What’sa matter, Angel, honey. Afraid?”

“You should be.”

“Of you?” Her brows lifted. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’re as tame as they come under all that—” She waved loosely at the motorcycle and knew it was a lie.

His expression didn’t change and she faced him fully, sauntering closer, so close she smelled the untouchable wildness surrounding him. He didn’t budge a muscle, only his gaze followed her. She laid her hand on his thigh and muscle tensed beneath. But still, he didn’t move.

“Back off, Calli,” came the low rasp. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Her gaze challenged him. “What will you do, Angel? Chew me up and spit me out?” Her face neared his, the whisper of her breath on his lips. Her gaze never wavered, searching his and waiting for a reaction. But he was as lifeless as a granite statue. The temptation of his stillness, to make him respond, urged her on. She let her mouth hover over his, let him feel her nearness like an animal scents its prey.

“What will you do, bad boy?” Her words moistened his lips.

His gaze thinned, pale with a predatory gleam, and her bravado fled.

She abruptly pulled back and walked briskly to her room. She inserted the key, turned the knob and opened the door.

Suddenly he was there, behind her, one arm around her waist, the other hand slapping open the door. “See, little tigress?” he rasped in her ear. “You don’t know what danger is.” He twisted her around. “It was right behind you.”

“Angel?” Panic swam in her voice as she stared into his fathomless eyes.

A wound flickered across his features, then left.

Suddenly he ducked, his mouth a hard slash across hers, his kiss heavy and demanding. Disillusionment ripped through her. She deserved this for teasing him, trusting him, and even as savage heat scored through her, she pushed at his shoulders, his chest, tried tearing her mouth away. But he followed, exacting a response. She tried not to give it, fighting the greedy feel of his mouth, his hands running over her body. Still he kissed her and kissed her, his advancing body urging her farther into the room, back against a short dresser. Bodies meshed, hard planes pushing to soft skin.

His kiss was unrelenting and laced with dangerous consequences. Tempting.

Calli’s body was already betraying her, her skin dampening, and even as she gripped his jacket to push him back, she fought a war inside herself between outrage and hurt—and the glorious pressure of his warm wet mouth on hers. It coupled with a strange hunger in his kiss, a tight restraint daring her to join him and, without warning, her lips softened beneath his, immediately eager.

Angel jerked back, his potent glare clashing with hers. She met and matched it, all mutinous. You started this, her gaze challenged. Their breathing was labored, bodies aroused to unthinkable heights. And he pushed the limit.

He grasped her hips and ground her to his hardness, his mouth to hers.

Like Ike had tried. But this wasn’t the same. Nothing was. Galvanizing sensations pelted her again and again, nothing repulsive, all primitive and devouring. Calli knew she’d never experienced anything this forceful, domination of her body and mind. She thought she would go mad if she didn’t have more.

Then he gave it, insinuating his knee between hers and maneuvering her onto the dresser. One hand dove into her hair, holding her for the burn of his kiss while his free hand slid heavily over her chest, pulling at her jacket zipper and spreading the leather. Beneath it, he found a shapely bustier and his fingertips made contact with bare skin as they closed over her breast. He squeezed, driving his thumb beneath the satiny fabric and wildly flicking her tender mpple.

A trapped sound scraped her throat.

He tore his mouth from hers and she heard his breath rush past her ear before he ground his lips to her neck, nippmg, licking, urging her head back. She clutched fistfuls of his jacket. Breath panted. He deliberately licked a path from her throat to the swells of her breasts. His big hands spanned her rib cage, covered it, then sank lower, molding over her hips to the edge of her skirt. He paused for a fraction, red stockings and flesh beneath his palms, and she tipped her head. Calli quaked, her entire body brimming with pure energy about to detonate. Her gaze drifted upward to meet pale, hooded eyes.

Her fingers flexed on his shoulders.

Her breath mingled damply with his.

And he swallowed it, his mouth devouring hers, more sensual than consuming. More hunger than heat. She didn’t know which was more powerful. That, or his hands roaming upward beneath her skirt, fingertips curling behind and enveloping her buttocks.

A dark groan sounded in his throat.

She wore a thong and Gabe touched naked skin.

It nearly destroyed him

He could have her now, he thought. Any way he wanted. She was open, vulnerable—and innocent. He could take her body coldly in a couple of thrusts and leave her Show her no one was trustworthy enough for someone like her. Especially him. That a woman like Calli, a good woman, felt anything for a man like him was beyond his comprehension. That he wanted desperately to touch her with the deliberation of a welcomed lover was the real danger. Yet even as the image of being inside her made him shudder with a nearly uncontrollable need, he knew he had to destroy this.

“You want it, baby?” His words thrummed against her lips before he kissed them with designed torture And she responded. Yeah, like leading a lamb to slaughter, he thought. His fingers flexed on her buttocks, drawing a flood of moisture from her. She shifted, restless. “Do you?”

Calli whimpered, her thoughts clouded, her body combustible.

His arm snaked around her waist, fusing them as tightly as if they were naked and joined. His mouth against her ear, he whispered, “I could have you now, baby, and you’d never see me again.”

She blinked at the sudden cruelty in his voice. Then he spoke again, harsh and vulgar, telling her what he wanted, using crude words she’d read or heard, but never directed at herself.

“No!” She shoved at his chest, turning her face away, but he kept on. Calli twisted and pushed, her sensual dream shattering with every syllable like arrows fired into her composure. He wouldn’t let her go and she turned her head sharply, sinking her teeth into his tender neck. He hissed and lurched back, covering the spot, checking for blood. Their eyes met, hers filled with humiliation and disappointment, his cold and flat.

In blatant contempt, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

He reached over and caught her jaw in his broad hand, fingers biting into her flesh. “Go home, little girl, this is not your playground.” He kissed her, hard, lacking even a hint of apology. “It’s mine.” He turned away, and without looking back, strode to the door. He didn’t stop, even when the vase shattered against the doorjamb by his head.

Calli glared at the empty doorway, shoving hair from her face. Then she looked down at herself and choked back a sob, pushing unsteadily off the dresser. She closed her jacket, her body still thrumming with desire as she staggered to the door. Her shattered equilibrium threatened her every step. She kicked the broken vase outside and slammed the door shut. Closing her eyes, she leveled a few nasty curses at Angel and hoped she’d severed his jugular. God, I am such a fool, she thought. She deserved whatever she got.

She passed the mirror, her gaze catching her reflection. Her bruised lips curled in disgust. Her eyes were bleary, her hair a tangled mess. Her clothes suffocated her and she stripped them off, dropping them to the floor as she moved toward her bed. She sat heavily, springs creaking.

Deep inside her, an old wound broke open, fresh hurt rubbing raw. For an instant she was a child left in darkness with strangers. Damn. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears eeking past. He’d humiliated her with her own reaction to him, intentionally, she knew. But somewhere during his attempt to scare her, she’d experienced something wild and raw. And so had he. Part of her admitted that, for several moments there, she’d wanted him, would have done anything to feel his strength and do exactly what he’d whispered in her ear. Another part wanted to beat him senseless, hurt him back.

Don’t trust him He’s bad, a voice said. The nuns had warned her about men like Angel. Dangerous men. Men women went after Just because they were tough and hard and without regret. He didn’t want anyone to hurt her, except him. She looked up, her eyes narrowing on nothing.

He didn’t want her to trust anyone, including him.

Just as the thought materialized, so did a wave of nausea and Calli slapped a hand over her mouth, leaping toward the bathroom. Tomorrow, she thought. She would deal with her stupidity tomorrow. She only hoped she would never see him again.

Sunlight blared through a slice between the drapes and Calli groaned, rolling to her side and covering her head with a pillow. Her mouth tasted like road dust and her brain throbbed, reminding her of last night. How could one drink make her feel this crummy?

After a few deep breaths, she slithered from the bed like the idiot she was, stopping long enough to order coffee from room service before stepping into the shower. She didn’t bother to regulate the water and suffered the ice-cold blast before making it warmer. She never wanted to leave. It was safe under the water, away from the hurt blooming slowly in her chest. Damn you, Angel.

Gradually, her headache lessened and she could actually move without making it worse. No, she decided as pain buffeted her brain. She would stay in here, because looking at herself in the mirror would only relive the memory of Angel’s heartlessness. Funny, she thought, that she could remember his passion more than his cruelty.

Gabe caught the waiter as he made to set the tray by the door. She’s in the shower, he realized instantly, hearing the running water through the paper-thin walls and half-open window. Pushing a hefty tip into the server’s palm, he took the tray and gave the teenager a leer that spoke volumes. The youth smiled and nodded, then after a moment’s hesitation, unlocked the room.

Gabe set the tray down and closed the door. He noticed her clothes scattered over the floor and collected them in a pile, trying to ignore the red stocking shaped from her leg and the memories that came with it. Tossing them onto the dresser, he wondered why the hell he was here. Sure, he could have left her car at Damien’s, let her find a way to get it back, but Gabe felt as if he’d slunk out from under a rock, like the slimy perverts he’d been protecting her from for the past four days.

Since last night, he’d focused his concern on the one drink she claimed to have had and the strange result. After discreetly taking her keys, in case she got any wild ideas during the night, he’d gone back to Damien’s after leaving her, done some checking, and linked her artificial intoxication to a drink she hadn’t bought for herself. A man of vague description had walked it over to her from the bar. It was just too suspicious for Gabe’s comfort and he felt that her admirer might have slipped her a drug.

Calli was in trouble, more than she’d ever hoped to find. And if she would quit trusting strangers, quit trying to find danger, it just might not find her. Gabe muttered a curse, hating himself for what he’d done to her, hating that he couldn’t find another way around her stubbornness to keep her safe. She was just too willing to test the limits of the wrong people. Including him.

The phone rang and instinctively he snatched it up.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing there at this hour?” Daniel O’Hara demanded.

“My job.” Gabe stared down at her keys in his hand, then clutched them in his fist. “Did you find anything else?”

“No. Does she know who you are?”

Guilt stabbed through Gabe as he glanced at the bathroom door. He dismissed it, remembering the disgusted look in her eyes when he’d talked nasty to her. “You paid for discretion.”

“Your voice says otherwise, Gabe.”

Gabe hated the fatherly warning in Daniel’s tone. “Let’s just say she won’t be trusting me or anyone else for a while.”

“It’s a sweet failing of hers.” A sigh came through the phone and Daniel’s worry with it Whether it was for himself and his company or Calli, Gabe couldn’t be sure. “She has the memo.”

Gabe groaned, plowing his fingers through his dark hair. “Great.” How was he supposed to get it? His gaze scanned the room, stopping on her purse, then a leather satchel lying on a luggage rack. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“That cat burglar experience comes in handy in your line of work, huh?”

“Shut up, Danny.”

Daniel cleared his throat.

“I’ll call if I have something to say.”

Daniel scoffed. “I’ll be old by then.”

Gabe made to hang up when Daniel’s voice caught him.

“Hey, Gabe?”

He put the phone to his ear again, noticing that the shower had stopped. “Make it quick.”

“Don’t hurt her. She’s like a daughter to me.”

Gabe closed his eyes Wonderful. Daniel might be just the owner of some dessert company, but he was one mean man when crossed. And Gabe owed him big already.

“What are you doing here, talking on my phone?” Calli demanded, tightening the sash of her robe.

His expression blank, Gabe held out the receiver. “Someone named Daniel?”

Calli’s features reddened and she grabbed the phone, turning her back on him. She could feel Angel’s gaze move over her terry-cloth robe and she pushed it higher around her neck. While in the bathroom, she’d heard muffled voices and could have sworn Angel was talking to Daniel long before she entered the room. But what would he have to say to her boss? Daniel was likely giving him the third degree, she decided, highly annoyed with both of them.

“How did you find me?” she snapped, her plan to hide out in New Mexico obviously ruined.

His laugh was soft. “Well, hello to you, too.” Calli made an apologetic sound. “It wasn’t hard. What happened to Acapulco?”

“Nothing. It’s still there, I think.” She heard him chuckle. “I just changed my mind and decided to drive.” She already knew how he’d found her. For emergency’s sake she’d left this number with her landlord and Daniel was the one who’d told her about the quaint small town. “Is there something wrong? Why did you track me down?”

There was a hesitation and then, “I was worried when you didn’t show at the company suite in Mexico. Your team asked about you.”

Daniel was lying and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. “What’s the matter?” she asked with soft concern, plowing her wet hair back off her face.

“Nothing, kid. Nothing. Who’s the guy?”

Calli glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Angel was sprawled on her bed, folded arms pillowing his head, ankles crossed. The arrogant creep, she thought. She picked up an ashtray and threw it at him. He batted it away, then resumed his position. She gestured for him to get out.

He simply stared back.

“He’s the waiter.” His gaze went fiat. “A real pest,” she said meaningfully. “And I have to get rid of him.”

“Be careful, Calli.”

Another man playing knight-errant, she thought, and her first impulse was to vent her anger and hurt on Daniel, but he didn’t deserve it. He was the best thing to happen to her career since her graduation from the Culinary Institute and she didn’t want to dump on him.

“I will,” she said finally. “And tell the seven wizards that just because I’m on vacation doesn’t mean they are, too.”

“I will,” Daniel laughed “’Bye, Calli.”

“Later, boss.” She hung up, her fingers flexing on the receiver before she shoved them into her robe pockets. She faced Angel. “Get out.”

He said nothing, his cool gaze assessing her as if he’d palmed every inch of her naked body.

“You have to know you’re the absolute last person I want to see. Or are you just a sadist?” He kept quiet and she wanted to kick him. “Why are you here?”

Leaning up on his elbow, he dangled her keys.

Her forehead wrinkled. She’d had them last night. She was sure of it. “You stole them?”

Angel swung his long legs off the bed and straightened. Calli stepped back, and he arched a brow at the sudden move, studying her.

She was afraid. Good. Lesson achieved.

“You could have left them at the front desk.”

Gabe shrugged. Sure, he could have, but he’d needed to see her, needed to see for himself that he hadn’t smashed that untouchable energy of hers.

Calli held out her hand and he dropped the keys into her palm. They were warm from handling She turned away, staring at the keys, then him. He had to have taken them from her purse. She hated to think he’d taken anything else.

As casually as she could, she poured herself a cup of coffee, realizing he’d gotten inside by way of the waiter. She would have to speak to the hotel management about that.

“So, are you a thief, as well as a...molester?”

He stiffened. “The car’s outside,” he said. The sound of his raspy voice shivered through Calli.

She gulped hot coffee and met his gaze in the mirror. “Leave, Angel.”

He moved up behind her. She clutched the cup defensively. “How’s your head?”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t.” He did. But he didn’t want to. She was a case, an assignment, nothing more; protect her, get the memo back before Daniel’s competitors came after her for it. And if Daniel could find her this easily so could they. Gabe had never guessed the dessert business was so bloodthirsty. “I don’t.” He shrugged big shoulders. “Just making conversation.”

“Should have tried that last night.” Instantly Calli wished the words back and set the cup down with a sharp click.

He moved up behind her and still she wouldn’t face him. “Wouldn’t have been as much fun.” God, he nearly puked on those words.

“Jeez,” she mumbled, eyes downcast. “I hate to see what you think is pain, then.”

Guilt tightened his features and he was glad she wasn’t looking at him. Gabe didn’t know what possessed him then, but he leaned down and scented her, his face close to the bare nape of her neck. She didn’t smell like soap or shampoo, but of Calli, of innocence and energy and life. He wanted some. Just a little to warm his dark dreams. “You liked it.”

“You have no idea what I like, Angel, honey. But it certainly isn’t you!” Her voice fractured, fresh wounds mirrored in her eyes. “Get out,” she sneered.

Angel caught her arms in a gentle hold and pulled her back against him. Calli went still as glass, instantly sensing a difference. His long body was hard against her back, her soft buttocks, and raw desire burst like a newborn star. Calli struggled against it, against the urge to open her robe and let him touch her.

Gabe felt it, too; her quickening breath, the sudden tightness of her small, naked body beneath the thick terry cloth. Blood rushed to his groin. His fingers flexed on her arms. He didn’t want to know what she was feeling that easily, didn’t want to be such an intense part of it. Yet he turned her to face him, tipping her chin till she looked him in the eye

His fingers sank into her hair as he covered her mouth with his. Calli immediately fought. But his kiss was different than the last; gentle, probing. Unhurried and seething with suppressed desire. Her heart thundered against the wall of her chest. Her knees softened Her resistance melted a fraction more, but instinct born in survival, in a little girl left to fend alone years ago, kept her from giving him what he coaxed to the surface.

She tore her mouth away, breathless.

“No. No!” She pushed him back. He went only because he chose to, she knew. Sweet mercy. How could she fall for this again? She leveled a scathing glance at him. “Last night must be fuzzier than I thought, if I keep walking into your traps,” she muttered more to herself as she scooted a safe distance from him.

Calli faced the fact that she was highly attracted to him, that she trusted him no matter how hard she tried not to or how serious he was about wanting her gone. Yet even in her confusion, which was threatening to dissolve any guard on her self-preservation, a familiar awareness drew her back to him, to the darkness and secrets he wanted to shield from her, from the world. She promised herself she would fight it. But then she glanced at him and was swallowed in those hard green eyes devouring her willpower like a panther with a defeated victim. His gaze slipped to the neck of the robe, to her skin, and she was acutely aware of her nakedness thinly shielded, aware of him and how erotic his touch felt on her body. Her breathing increased, a deep, pulsing ache spreading up her thighs as he simply looked at her. She broke her gaze, frantically grasping for some anger, some disgust. But it just wasn’t there.

Frustrated, she threw her hands up. “All right, I give up. I know when I’ve been licked.”

“So,” came the dark rasp. “Last night is coming back to you.”

She sputtered, swinging around to see him pause at the door, his tanned hand on the frame as he looked at her. An odd half-smile tugged at his lips, his gaze caressing her. White-hot heat spiraled through her, making her mad.

“You’re twisted, Angel.”

“Remember that.”

Calli didn’t know what to make of the shadow shifting over his expression.

But Gabe knew. And he was even more certain of himself now. Now that her faint smile offered forgiveness for the despicable cruelty he’d played on her last night. He didn’t deserve forgiving, but he was glad he had it. God. He had to keep away from her. Touching her brought him a bizarre freedom that he would keep destroying in slow increments until he destroyed her, too.

He wasn’t good enough for a woman like Calli. Not for her kisses, her smiles and for damn sure, not her bed.

Southern New Mexico was beautiful, full of exquisite little shops brimming with unique and very expensive items. Calli decided to hurt her credit card. Mega-shopping was an instant balm to her bruised feelings. Angel had vanished and although she decided it was just as well, giving herself time to get her act together, she actually missed his pesty brooding self. She’d had plenty of time to think about him and his invasion into her life. And why he’d bothered to bring her car back, clearly a gallant gesture, when he’d warned her not to trust him? She remembered the crude way he’d spoken to her, his matter-of-fact manner about the scene he played on her. And that’s exactly what it was, she thought. A scene. Designed and executed especially for her ohso-delicate constitution. A warning. He didn’t know her well enough to realize that it would take more than his less-than-subtle charm to send her packing.

Sighing dispiritedly, Calli fingered a silk blouse and knew she trusted too easily. The nuns had taught her to see the best in everyone. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have insisted Daniel let her hire Rodrigez straight out of prison. Rodrigez had proven that his prison training was valuable and had become her number one chef. More importantly, though, it had shown she’d been right; there was good in the former armed robber. It was a break she could afford to give now and she understood how infrequently those came along Like Rodriguez, she had no family and since she was a child, had depended only on herself. Even under the care of very loving but strict nuns, she was always alone. Being a ward of the church until she was eighteen had its moments, albeit very few, but she’d never met anyone as enigmatic and ominous as Angel.

She was attracted to him, by more than the quiet restrained power he exuded. And he scared her, his empty eyes, his vacant expressions. Sometimes, it was like no one lived behind those beautiful pale green eyes. Yet despite her fear, her lack of knowledge about men like him, she was drawn to him, as if only she could feel an invisible lure.

Was it his secrets she found so intriguing? And what had Daniel said to him on the phone? They’d spoken before she entered the room, she was certain. Angel was hiding something. What it had to do with her was beyond comprehension. Or maybe it was as she’d first imagined, Daniel feeling protective and questioning him?

She pushed open the door of a kitchen store and smiled. She was in heaven and moved from rack to shelf, seeking the odd gadget she might not already have in her own kitchen. She hadn’t worked in over a week, which meant she hadn’t cooked. And she wanted to test out a new recipe batting around in her head Finding nothing to sufficiently satisfy her buying spree, Call! settled for a red cobbler’s apron with the words I Cook, You Clean emblazoned in white. She laughed to herself. Who was going to clean up after her? She lived alone.

Juggling the handles of four bags, Calli left the shop and immediately bumped into a man. She dropped one of her packages and bent to retrieve it just as he did. She thanked him, then straightened and stared into a pair of warm brown eyes “Gee, I’m glad I don’t have to pay for that loot,” he said, gesturing to her bags.

Calli smiled. “I’ll hate myself when the bill comes, I just know it.” She started past him.“Thank you.”

“You look like an expert shopper.” He paused and she waited for him to continue. “Think you could help me select something for my sister’s birthday?”

Indecision creased her brow. “I don’t know...”

“I’m afraid I’m a failure at getting her anything she doesn’t return.” His tone pleaded.

Calli bit her lower lip. Harmless, she thought, we’ll be in public.

“Clothes or jewelry?”

Relieved, he chuckled to himself. “Find me a woman who can resist jewelry and I’ll marry her.”

She looked him over, smiling. “Sorry, pal, you’ll have a long hunt,” she said, then gestured to her car. “Let me get rid of these.” Leaving her packages in the car, she liked that he kept his distance, remaining on the pathwalk to wait for her. She didn’t want this guy too close. Though he seemed nice enough, and in the past week she’d certainly hung out with people who were far more menacing, Angel’s warnings vibrated in her mind. Along with the memory of his touch. A soft smile bowed her lips as she walked back to him.

“Something funny? You look, I don’t know—” he shrugged “—satisfied?”

Not quite, she thought mischievously, but said, “It’s nothing.” She gestured up the walk. “I saw a wonderful Indian jewelry display up here.” He met her pace and made introductions on the way to the store. Braiden Murdock, engineer, businessman in town for the week, she discovered, and Calli mentally classed him in the “yuppie, financially stable, now-looking-for-a-wifebefore-he-got-too-old” department. Especially when he started the conversation with the “Are you married? Don’t you want a family?” lines. Like she was on a schedule?

Minding her manners, in minutes Calli had the store owner displaying his creations for Braiden. Calli bought a pair of turquoise cufflinks for Daniel and earrings for herself. As the shopkeeper wrapped items and had them shipped for Braiden, he asked if he could repay her with lunch. Calli stared into his chocolate-brown eyes, thinking he was a gentle, considerate man and she would enjoy his company, but a voice whispering, He isn’t Angel, interrupted her thoughts. Extremely annoyed with the invasion, she agreed.

A half hour later, she smiled at his wide-eyed look.

“You’re a chef?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Women can cook, or have you been sleeping for the past two thousand years?”

He laughed quietly, leaning back in his chair and toying with his fork. “So. Give. Where can I try these culinary talents?”

“London, Pans, Rome, New York, Dallas.” His brows wrinkled in confusion “Excalibur Confections,” she supplied.

His eyes widened. “The pastries? The ones with the gold sword charm through their centers?”

She nodded. Excalibur was the elite dessert, like Godiva was to chocolates, each dessert wrapped in gold-embossed paper. The gold sword charm was her idea. Customers needed a little pleasure, even after the last bit was gone.

“I eat them whenever I can afford it.”

She peered over the edge of the table at his stomach. “Not worried about fat or cholesterol, huh?”

“I run to do penance for those goodies,” he said, gesturing for the waiter.

Penance A Catholic boy, she thought. He paid the check and they left the restaurant. Discreetly, she stepped away from his touch at the small of her back and for an instant wondered why she’d let a guy like Ike paw her as if she were covered in fur, yet wouldn’t let Braiden lay a finger on her.

Outside, he waved and a gray limousine slowed to a halt in front of them. Whoa, she thought, more than financially stable.

“Can I give you a lift to your car?”

“The whole thirty yards?” She laughed lightly and shook her head, then offered her hand. He clasped it, tugging her closer. He stood within the open door of the limo.

“Join me for dinner.” That it sounded like a demand set her teeth on edge.

“No, thank you, Braiden ” She tried to pull free, but his grip tightened. Suspicion crept up her spine.

“Come on.” He ducked into the car, making her lean down a bit. Calli caught a glimpse of the plush interior, the bar, TV, laptop computer, and mostly, the mini-fax with a picture of a familiar face curled over the machine. “You already know I don’t bite.”

“But she does.”

Calli jerked her hand free and whirled around. Angel. He was braced against the stone wall near the restaurant entrance, one leg bent, booted foot flattened against the wall. His arms folded over his chest, he had Dare me written in every taut muscle. Something in her heart said, Yes! But her mind scolded her, reason screaming that she shouldn’t be so pleased to see his stubbled mug.

His green gaze shifted from her face to her lunch date hanging half out of the limo. Pale eyes glittered and his long legs took him to the side of the car. He loomed over her, sparing her a flash of a look, then maneuvered his body along the hmo, making her either step or be pushed back.

“Dammit, Angel!”

His hands braced on the door frame and the roof, he ignored her and peered down at the man, studying him briefly. From what Calli could see, Braiden simply stared back.

“She’s busy.”

Calli politely tapped his shoulder.

“Calli, are you all right with this?” Braiden asked.

Gabe smirked.

Calli wanted to punch Braiden herself, but Angel blocked her. “It’s all right,” she said tiredly. She ought to be used to Angel butting in by now.

Gabe leaned down into Braiden’s face, his voice so low she couldn’t hear.

“Try that again,” he rasped, each word clipped and razor sharp as his gaze, “and I will kill you.”

The other man’s features stretched tight. Message received, Angel thought, then stepped back and made to close the door, forcing Braiden to jerk his legs inside or be crushed. The limo peeled away from the curb. Gabe watched it leave the posh gallena, then turned to Calli. She was already walking to her car.

His gaze swept the body-shaping, lemon-yellow tank dress to her tanned bare legs and yellow-heeled shoes. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. She looked good enough to eat.

His gaze shot to the limo. That was too damn close. It was only pure luck that he’d hung around a little longer than he’d planned. She hadn’t a clue, he decided, and wondered what she would think if she knew her firend had been trying to kidnap her.


Three

She really had a sweet behind, he thought before he stirred himself and started toward her.

“Be warned, Angel,” she said the instant he was near. “I won’t be responsible for what I may say—” Her gaze slid meaningfully to the teeth marks she’d left on his neck. “Or do right now.” She unlocked her car and slid into the seat

But he stopped her from closing the door. He noticed that her hands shook.

She glared up at him. “Do you mind?” He gave her that passionless stare she was beginning to really hate, his long body bent, hand on the car roof. She sighed back into the seat and spoke to the ceiling. “You have made this my worst vacation in years.”

“Slumming wasn’t good enough, so you went after bigger game?” He nodded toward the restaurant.

She was insulted and her look told him she was fresh out of patience. “I realize this may come as a complete shock, Angel. But I’m not on a manhunt. In fact, after this week, the last thing I want is another man in my life. I have at least eight—no ” She put up a hand. “Make that nine,” she added, delivering a glare that carved the flesh from his bones. “Nine men who can’t keep to themselves and leave me alone!”

She jerked on the door handle, but still he wouldn’t move.

“Do I have to hurt you?”

He straightened. “Listen, little tigress,” he said. “Your lunch date was—”

“Trying to get me into his limo by force?”

His brows rose.

Her smug look slapped him. “I’m not a fool. Money tends to breed arrogance.” Her gaze swept him. “But that doesn’t seem to stop you, now, does it?”

She was still smarting, he thought. Calli wasn’t a mean person. He’d known that from the start. Though she didn’t know why Braiden Murdock was trying to steal her away, Gabe recognized the fact that Calli wasn’t leaving, no matter how much he wanted her to go home, where it would be safe. She was his job, his responsibility, and he had only one choice left. Close off any danger.

“Come home with me.”

Her eyes narrowed sharply. “Excuse me?” She tipped her head toward him, cupping her ear. “Did I hear right?” She lowered her hand. “You, who wanted me gone from your precious little town, are inviting me into the wolf den, the love dungeon?”

He liked the way she teased him. As if she expected to get a rise with her soft-soaped barbs. “No, I’m not. I’m inviting you to work for me.”

Work for him? As what? His personal sex slave? “I have a job.”

“You haven’t heard the offer.”

There was heat in that statement, she thought, tempting heat.

“And you don’t know my qualifications.”

He squatted inside the open door, the air suddenly filled with her perfume. He inhaled the soft, powdery fragrance, gazing into her eyes. He braced his forearms on his thighs and clenched his fists in an effort not to touch her. He didn’t know why he was doing this. There had to be other choices if he thought long enough. Getting close to a woman like her was dangerous for him. She was the past he never had. The tender heart and passion he’d never known, never even been close to. But the side of him that survived by sheer luck and deviousness on the streets said to risk it, invite her into his world and see if he could hang with it.

“I’m shorthanded for the next couple of weeks and—”

“What is it that you do?” she interrupted

He couldn’t tell her he paid more bills as a private investigator than with the profits from his ranch. Not that she would be any help at either. He didn’t want her getting suspicious. He’d already screwed up by talking to Daniel where she could overhear

“I have a small farm in the valley.”

She blinked, her wide eyes looking him over. “You? A farmer? Oh, please.” She rolled those big blue eyes and Gabe fought a smile. Smart-ass to the end

He shrugged and muscles twisted beneath his tight black T-shirt. “It’s just as well, a woman like you—” he indicated the expensive car and clothes with a quick flick of his hand “—probably couldn’t cut it on a farm.”

Rebellion lit her features, her incredible lake-blue eyes. He’d expected it, counted on it, and as she leaned close he had the irresistible urge to kiss the tightness out of her lush little mouth.

“You have no idea what I can cut.”

Gabe smirked. “There’s no electricity, no phones, just work.” He said it like a taunt. He could see the indecision in her face Something wild scrambled in his chest as he waited for her to answer. He shouldn’t want this, this bad It was like inviting a sweet little lamb into the lion’s den again and asking it not to run for cover. And asking the lion not to trespass. He straightened, staring down at her. God, she was beautiful.

Calli had never been on a farm. Not that she wasn’t used to hard, backbreaking work. The nuns had seen to that when she was old enough to scrub a floor. But spending time with him would be more than hard work. It would be agony. She turned her attention to the emblem on her steering wheel. If she looked at him she couldn’t think clearly. Why she was even considering his offer was totally irrational. But she also considered that guys like Ike and Tiny were afraid of him. She should be, too, she thought, after the other night Yet she wasn’t. He’d had the opportunity to hurt her and hadn’t.

Though she’d asked around town about him, no one knew who she was talking about and she let it drop. But what pressed her to even contemplate his offer was what she’d seen in Murdock’s limo. The face on the fax sheet was hers. That meant he’d singled her out. Why? She could only assume it was because of Excalibur and the competitors’ constant offers for her to leave Daniel and come work for them. She’d refused and she’d believed that force was beyond them. Apparently that wasn’t the case. It made her distrust everyone. Except Angel. At least she knew where he was coming from. Well, almost. She didn’t think anyone knew him at all. And never would.

And farming? She knew what to do with the stuff once it came to market, but cultivating it? Other than growing herbs on her balcony, she was out of her league. But then, if she was away, really out of touch, maybe Daniel and his seven cohorts would get a dose of reality. She could take care of herself. And they needed to know it or she couldn’t go back to Excalibur to work. Their smothering was half the reason she’d taken her first vacation in three years and hadn’t told them where she was really going. And a woman could take only so much shopping and bars and self-imposed solitude. Besides, she did have her car and portable phone if she needed to connect.

She tilted a look at him and still couldn’t decide. It was an almost too-dangerous offer. “Let me think about it.”

He released the breath he’d been holding. “Suit yourself.” At least she hadn’t said no. He would stick around, close, just the same.

“How can I get in touch with you?”

“I’ll find you.” He moved away from the car.

“Mysterious men are pains in the butt,” she muttered to herself, then heard him chuckle. She pulled the car door closed and started the engine. She warned herself not to watch him walk, that long, determined stride, his adorable behind. Except the urge took her. Oh, God, why didn’t she just say no and forget the whole idea? Spend time with him, perhaps all alone in a valley, under his beneficiary?

Was she crazy?

Then it struck her that he’d invited her for reasons of his own, that he wanted her with him enough to tolerate her and ignore the desire racing between them. Did he know that with just a glance of those steely green eyes he transformed her into quivering mush? Though it was obvious that she had little effect on him, she thought depressingly. But she knew she had some effect. If he thought she believed he was just playing a game, he was the fool, not her. She’d felt the capped fire in him when he’d kissed her the other night, felt the hardness straining his jeans.

Two days ago, Angel wanted her gone so bad he’d tried to scare her out of town.

This morning, Angel wanted her body with the prowess of a determined lover.

This afternoon, he’d been there to squelch anything Braiden had in mind.

Now, he’d invited her into his domain. Why? After the past couple days, that was the last thing she expected. His contrary behavior confused the heck out of her and her decision to be a part of his farm—the thought was still laughable—was leaning toward the positive. What did she have to lose?

Plenty, a voice whispered. Men like Angel, she knew, didn’t do a damn thing without a good reason.

As she drove away from the garden courtyard of stores, it occurred to her that she was considering spending a couple of weeks with the man and she didn’t know his last name.

Loaded down with more packages than any woman had a right to possess in one day, Calli’s steps slowed as she neared her room, her face creasing with concern. The door was wide open and as she approached, fear skipped along her spine, tightening her muscles. She could hear voices. A police car, the door open, was parked beside her room. Radio noise crackled in the blistering heat. She set her bags down a few feet from the door and peered inside. She inhaled sharply.

Her room was ransacked. Everything—everything—was trashed. Her gaze shifted to the two police officers making notes and the hotel manager. The little Asian man was wringing his hands. Both officers turned to look at her, and the manager, Mr. Wong, raced to her side, apologizing profusely. The maid had found the door open, he told her, and the room destroyed.

She looked to the officers.

And they looked back, one chubby and dark, the other blond.

“I’m the tenant,” she said, her gaze scanning the debris of her suitcases and clothes. The mattresses were overturned, the drawers raped, but most of her clothes appeared intact. A man in a pale sport coat was dusting the place for fingerprints. One cop asked for ID and she went back for her bags, offering it to him.

“Who would do this? There wasn’t much money in here.” Not to do this kind of damage, she thought.

“Did you have anything of value? Cash? Documents? Jewelry?”

She nodded and moved to her cases, pulling them off the floor. She riffled in the compartments, sighing defeatedly, then held out a pair of diamond and ruby earrings, a gold bracelet and three rings. “All my cash, traveler’s checks, bank card and two credit cards are gone.” Damn, except for her checkbook and for the one credit card in her purse, she was broke. The officers exchanged a glance, then scribbled on their pads. “Everything else of value was with me, locked in my car.”





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