by Pamela Tyner
“No, there’s no one else. We can leave anytime you’re ready.” Clint’s hands dropped from their position at her waist. For a millisecond, Tricia wanted them back, but she gave herself an internal shake and stepped away.
Turning on her heels, she led the way to the door with Clint following closely behind. When she stepped outside, the cool night air rushed over her face. Wonderfully clean, fresh air, void of the smell of smoke that had filled her nose for the last several hours.
When she reached the truck, she hesitated and turned to Clint. “Are you okay to drive?”
He blinked at the question. “I’m fine.”
“You had quite a few beers.”
He rolled his eyes, an exasperated expression on his face. “I only had four.”
“That’s a lot. Maybe I should drive.” She held her hand out, palm up, and waited for him to turn over his keys.
“I’m fine,” he ground out.
She leaned against the truck and studied him for several seconds. He did seem fine. But no way would she get in the car with him until she was absolutely certain he could drive.
“Okay, tough guy, prove it.” She pointed to a spot on the ground. “Walk a straight line.”
“What?”
“Walk a straight line.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Good God Almighty! I can’t believe this.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. He balled his hands into fists at his side and glared at her. It appeared that each of them was intent to wait the other out.
“Please,” she added. Tricia had no idea why, but for some reason her voice came out soft and coaxing.
Apparently, not coaxing enough because he shook his head firmly and stepped toward her until his face was mere inches from her own.
“This is ridiculous. I am not going to…” His words broke off, and the look in his eyes transformed from anger to understanding.
Without another word, he did as she had asked. After walking about ten feet, he turned and walked back. He had walked a perfectly straight line and hadn’t wobbled at all.
The sound of cheering tore her attention away from Clint. She glanced across the parking lot to see several of the bar’s patrons watching the scene. Her brows lifted in surprise when she noticed that one member of Clint’s cheering section was the football player who had admired her earlier in the evening.
“Satisfied?” Clint asked, his voice low and tense.
Her gaze returned to his. “Touch your nose with your finger.”
“Damn it, Tricia. You can see I’m perfectly fine to drive, so you either get in the truck or go get a ride from your friends over there.”
Silence filled the air as they stared at each other. Finally, Clint broke eye contact, cursing under his breath. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, extended his arm, and brought his finger to his nose, completing the task perfectly.
Once again the men clapped and cheered. “Nice job, Clint,” one of them called out.
Clint swung his head in their direction. “Shut up,” he yelled. Turning his gaze back to Tricia, he asked, “Are we done now, officer? Or do you want to pat me down next?”
“No,” Tricia replied with a slight shake of her head. “I don’t want to do any patting on your body.”
At that remark the other men snickered. Tricia knew that in order for them to have heard her words, they must have been straining their ears. When the snickers turned into laughter, Clint shot a fierce look their way.
“Let’s go,” he muttered as he headed for the driver’s door.
Once they were seated in the truck, she glanced at him and watched as a muscle jumped along his jaw at his clenched teeth. Although he appeared furious, he managed to exit the parking lot without squealing the tires. When they pulled out on the highway, he kept the speed at an acceptable rate.
“I looked like a damned fool,” he muttered.
Indeed he had, and the goading of the other men had only made matters worse. But in spite of everything, he had done as she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Tricia said. “It’s just that…”
“I know.” Clint glanced at her briefly, then returned his gaze to the road. “I was sorry to hear about your parents’ deaths. I know how hard it must have been for you.”
She shrugged and concentrated on maintaining a neutral tone of voice. “I lived through it.”
But she hadn’t thought she would. At the time, it felt like she had died right along with them. The pain had been so overwhelming she had almost wanted to die.
That night, in one split second, her world had changed completely. All because a drunk had opted to get behind the wheel of a car. He had walked away from the wreck with little more than scratches and bruises. Her parents had been pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.
Tricia struggled to shove the thoughts away. The memories had her feeling soft and vulnerable—not a good position to be in at present. Hoping some fresh air might help clear her mind, she rolled the window down. When the wind rushed inside the cab of the truck, she inhaled deeply.
She had been doing just fine keeping her guard up, right up until their dance. That had been the beginning of a downward spiral. If she hadn’t lost that stupid coin toss…
Then it hit her.
“Hey!” Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared at Clint. “Heads you win, tails I lose. You were going to win no matter what the coin landed on.”
“Yeah.” His voice didn’t indicate a bit of remorse. “I wondered if you were going to realize that.”
“You tricked me.” She couldn’t fathom why there was disbelief in her voice—she should have expected deceit from him. “It was so obvious. And I fell for it.” Her words were directed more to herself than to Clint.
He pulled beside the house and turned off the engine. Twisting his body toward her, he rested his arm on the back of the seat. “I wanted to hold you. I was willing to cheat if that’s what it took.”
He slipped his hand under her hair to touch the back of her neck. When he massaged it, she quivered at the pleasurable sensation. It was nothing more than an involuntary bodily response, but one he’d taken notice of from the look in his eyes.
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
She lifted an eyebrow. This declaration from the man who had once been so eager to shove her out of his life. Did he really think she was going to believe it?
“That night, at that party—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snapped before he could continue. Moving as quickly as humanly possible, she high-tailed it out of the truck. Escape was the only thing on her mind. Escape from him and from a conversation she had absolutely no desire to have.
When she reached the porch, she grabbed the doorknob and jiggled it savagely when it refused to open. Cursing softly, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Clint to arrive to open it.
It seemed like an eternity before he reached the porch, although she had managed to clear the same distance in a matter of seconds.
She could feel his eyes on her, but she stared straight out over the dark horizon, refusing to meet his gaze. The instant the door was ajar she pushed past him, but had barely gotten inside the house when he grabbed her arm and swung her around. The movement was so sudden that it forced her to place her hands on his chest to avoid slamming against his hard body.
“We’re going to talk about this. We need to talk about it,” he said. “We need to get it all out in the open and get past it.”
She shook her head. “There’s no reason to go dragging up the past. It won’t change anything.” She wrenched her arm from his grip and hurried down the hallway.
* * * *
Tricia rolled over in bed and opened her eyes. The illuminated numbers of the clock on the nightstand changed to read 3:02 AM. Other than the dim red light given off by the clock, the room was consumed in darkness. She raised her gaze to the window, searching for the moon, and caught a brief glance of it as it
peeked out from beneath a cluster of dark clouds before disappearing behind them once again.
Then she heard a noise. She lay very still and strained her ears. Seconds later she heard the noise again. It sounded almost like…scratching or scraping. That must have been what woke her up. She continued to concentrate on listening, but other than the faint chirping of the crickets outside the window, the house was silent.
It’s nothing. You’re hearing things. Go back to sleep.
She shook her head and settled more deeply under the covers as her eyelids drifted closed. After five minutes of tossing and turning, she gave up the battle. It would be impossible for her to go back to sleep without first assuring herself beyond any doubt that everything was okay.
For one fleeting moment she considered knocking on Clint’s bedroom door and asking him to check the house. With a shake of her head, she silently reprimanded herself for reacting like a fearful child.
Tricia slipped from the bed and padded to the door. Opening it, she stepped into the hallway.
Immediately, a hand slapped over her mouth, and a powerful arm gripped her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. Panic—intense and overpowering—engulfed her. Her eyes widened, her breath stuck in her throat, and her body froze in fear.
“Shh. It’s only me.”
At the sound of Clint’s voice whispering against her ear, her body sagged in relief.
“Go back in the bedroom and lock the door.” The words were spoken so softly she barely heard them. He released her with a gentle push toward the room, and she quickly followed his instructions.
Only when she’d locked the bedroom door behind her did the thought hit her that if Clint had heard the noise also, she hadn’t imagined it. The danger was real.
Her gaze swept the room, searching desperately for a weapon of some type. But it was so sparsely furnished her choices were limited. Hastily, she unplugged the lamp from the outlet and lifted it off the nightstand. It was heavy. That was good. As she passed the dresser she paused long enough to grab a bottle of perfume from her open bag that sat on top of it.
Backing up against the wall, her gaze shifted back and forth from the door to the window. She had a plan—bash him over the head with the lamp, spray the perfume in his eyes, and run like Satan himself was chasing her. Which seemed most appropriate considering that Matt’s evil matched that of the devil’s.
It wasn’t the greatest plan ever devised, but at the moment it was the best she could come up with.
It seemed like an eternity she stood there. Waiting. Watching. Listening.
“Tricia,” Clint called as he rapped on the door. “Everything’s okay. Open up.”
She exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. After setting the lamp on the floor, she hurried to open the door.
“What was it?” she asked.
“I couldn’t find anything. It was probably some animals outside.”
She stared at him silently as she dissected his words. In essence, he was admitting he didn’t know what it had been. Possibly it had been animals, but she’d never been woken before by the sound of animals.
It could have been Matt. Maybe he’d found her and was waiting for his chance to pounce.
Clint reached for her hand and lifted it. “What’s this?”
She looked down at the bottle of perfume she still held. “I was going to spray him in the eyes with it.”
“It would have been pretty effective if you had been able to accomplish it.”
Tugging her hand away, she walked to the dresser and set the bottle down, then crossed the room and dropped onto the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around her body in an effort to prevent the shaking that threatened to begin. The thought of what Matt would do to her if he caught her terrified her.
Clint stood in the doorway, his hands braced against the frame, and watched her. After several minutes, he walked over and crouched in front of her.
“I checked out everything. There’s nobody here but us.” He took her hands in his. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You believe that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered with a slight nod of her head.
She knew Clint wouldn’t let Matt hurt her…if he knew about it. But in her mind’s eye, she could see the scene taking place. Matt would slip into the house and snatch her away in the middle of the night. Clint, sound asleep in another room, wouldn’t hear her struggles. As she thought about it, her body began to tremble.
“You’re perfectly safe. Trust me.” He rubbed her arms and then took her hands again, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “There’s nothing to worry about. Try to go back to sleep.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Try.”
“I doubt I could even close my eyes.”
Clint remained where he was, staring at her hands as he rubbed them with his own. Finally, he looked up at her. “How about if I stay with you until you fall asleep?”
At his offer, an intense surge of gratitude flowed through her.
She nodded, and he released her hands and pushed himself up. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and moved it beside the bed. After shutting the door, he locked it then flipped off the light.
When the room plunged into darkness, she experienced a brief moment of panic. Feeling foolish, she forced the fear away. Clint was right there with her. She was safe.
The mattress dipped slightly as Clint evidently propped his feet on the end of the bed.
She crawled under the covers, snuggled against the pillow, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, she still wasn’t able to see Clint’s face, but she could see his form. Large, strong, powerful.
Her protector, standing guard over her.
He shifted, resituating his body. That hard, small chair had to be pretty uncomfortable. And here she was in a nice, soft bed, one which was plenty big enough for both of them. She could offer to share it with him. It might even make her feel safer having him closer to her.
Although the urge to extend the invitation was strong, she resisted, fully aware it could easily result in her doing something extremely foolish.
* * * *
Tricia woke slowly to the sound of birds chirping. When she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Clint. He was still sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, and he was staring at her. She smiled at him, her mind still fuzzy from the dream. A dream of him.
An incredibly erotic dream in which he’d lavished attention on her, worshipped every inch of her body as he’d whispered words of admiration.
It’d been a long time since she’d experienced sex like that. With Matt sex had always been about his pleasure, never hers. He’d never taken the time to make her feel special, cared for.
But Clint always had.
It’s just a dream.
She cleared her throat and mumbled, “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He straightened in the chair, crossed his arms over his chest. In that pose and with the determination in his eyes, he looked prepared for battle. “I think it’s time to call David.”
His words jolted her fully awake. “You promised me you wouldn’t,” she reminded him as she sat up.
“I changed my mind.”
Chapter 8
As Clint watched the color drain from Tricia’s face, a pang of remorse stabbed at his heart. Forcing himself to disregard it, he focused on hardening his resolve.
He’d spent all night in that stiff, uncomfortable chair, his imagination conjuring up horrible images of what would happen if Matt showed up when he wasn’t there to protect her.
And while he was being tormented by nightmares, she’d been sleeping contently. Twisting and stretching her body sensually, letting out some of the most erotic little moans he’d ever heard.
Moans that had him hardening in response. And therein lay the problem. He’d been so busy lusting after her, he’d ignored the mission. He neede
d to protect her, and the only way to really do that was to permanently remove Matt from her life.
David was the solution.
“You can’t call him,” Tricia gasped.
“I can, and I’m going to.” Clint stood and started for the bedroom door. Although absolutely confident in his decision, he was also smart enough to know he had to do it fast before the sight of her pale face and fearful eyes weakened his determination.
As he walked down the hallway toward the living room, he heard Tricia’s hurried footsteps behind him.
“Clint. Wait. Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
She grabbed his arm, clutched it. “Please.”
He turned to face her. “Tricia, this whole situation is ridiculous. We’re just sitting around waiting. It’s nerve racking, and it’s dangerous. What you need to do is make sure Matt never shows up. You need a restraining order.”
“I know Matt better than you do. A restraining order won’t stop him. It’s only going to make him angrier. Let’s wait a few more days and see if he leaves.”
“We’ve waited long enough. You need help.”
“I’ve got help. I’ve got you.”
That statement kicked him in the stomach because it was more than just words. Clint looked at the green eyes staring into his. It had been a decade since Tricia had gazed at him with such trust and confidence.
He wished he could give her what she asked for. But he couldn’t.
“I’m not enough. You need the help of the police.” He pried her grip from his arm and turned.
Tricia shifted her body in front of his before he’d had time to take a single step. She crossed her arms over her chest, determination filling her eyes. “It’s my choice how I deal with Matt.”
“You’re making the wrong choice.”
“A couple of days, that’s all I’m asking for.”
“Tricia, honey, David’s one of the good guys. He’s going to help you.”
She didn’t respond, just continued to stare at him with pleading eyes.
With a shake of his head, he stepped around her. He made his way to the end table, lifted the phone from the base, and hit the talk button. Before he had time to dial, Tricia plucked the phone from his hand, turned it off, and tossed it on the couch.