“I’m getting her out of here,” Troy said and closed her car door.
Brianna watched as the two men talked for a moment longer, then Troy slid in behind the steering wheel as Stafford walked back across the highway to where his car was parked in front of the community building.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Troy asked as he started the engine. “Maybe we should take you to the emergency room and get you checked out.”
“No, that’s really not necessary, although my body is starting to hurt in places I didn’t know I had.” She tried to offer him a smile, but it crumbled as a fierce trembling overtook her. “Just take me home, Troy.”
“Just hang tight. I’ll have you there in no time,” he said. As they pulled onto the highway, he checked the rearview mirror, and she knew he was making sure they weren’t being followed.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, unable to stop reliving those moments when she’d been frozen in place and the car had come out of nowhere with the apparent intent of striking her.
Her trembling increased, and despite the heat of the night, she knew it would be a long time before she felt warm again.
They didn’t speak any more on the ride back to the safe house. The euphoria of the meeting, the sense of success she’d felt when it had ended, had been destroyed. All she was left with was a growing fear that she didn’t want to face.
When they reached the house, Troy helped her inside and to the sofa, then he disappeared into the bathroom and she heard water running in the tub. A bath. He was fixing her a bath.
Once again she closed her eyes and imagined the hot water soothing muscles that were already screaming in pain. A hot bath was exactly what she needed and wanted, and she was vaguely surprised that Troy had recognized it.
He came out of the bathroom. “Maybe a bath will help keep you from waking up in the morning feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“Thanks.” It felt unreal. Things like this didn’t happen in her life. Dear God, what was happening to her life? She tamped down a rising hysteria.
“Brianna, could you tell what kind of car it was? Maybe a color?”
She shook her head. “It was all just an awful blur.”
With a tremendous effort she got to her feet.
“I’ve got a bottle of Scotch in the kitchen if you think a shot would help.”
She shook her head. “I’m not much of a drinker. I don’t suppose you have any tea?”
“Sure. You want a cup of hot tea?” His forehead was creased with a furrow of worry and his buzz-cut blond hair appeared to be standing on end more than usual.
“That would be great. I like it with just a little bit of milk and a spoonful of sugar. Could you just set it inside the bathroom door when it’s ready?”
“No problem,” he agreed. “Brianna, are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”
“Positive. Everything is working the way it’s supposed to. I’ll be fine.” She struggled to give him a reassuring smile.
As she walked to the bathroom, she thought how ridiculous it was that they were talking about teatime instead of the fact that somebody had tried to kill her.
Once inside the small room, she stared at her reflection in the floor-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Her dress was ruined—grass-stained and with one arm torn. Her panty hose sported runs and holes. She was a mess, but she was alive.
And somebody tried to kill you.
The words echoed in her head as she stripped. She noticed Troy had set out a fluffy towel and a bottle of bubble bath. She added some of the jasmine-scented liquid to the water, wondering how many other women had been here in the past.
Once the tub was filled with bubbles, she slid into the water with a hiss of pleasure.
Somebody tried to kill you.
She’d written off the attack in California as an isolated incident that might or might not have had anything to do with her personally. She’d even managed to dismiss the shooting at the mall job site as something that had nothing to do with her personally, but more with her father’s business.
However, it was more difficult to put a positive spin on what had happened tonight. That car had been lying in wait for her. It had sat on the road, lights off and engine idling until she’d reached the center of the road. Then it had roared to life with the full intention of striking her dead.
Who was doing this? How could she protect herself from danger when she didn’t know from which direction the danger came?
A soft knock sounded on the door. She checked to make sure she was submerged beneath the cover of bubbles. “You can come in, I’m bubble decent,” she said.
The door opened and he stepped just inside, looking ridiculously ill at ease holding a dainty teacup and saucer and with his gaze averted toward the ceiling.
She might have found him judgmental and a bit of a jerk when she’d first met him, but at the moment, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had in her life, her heart opened to him in a way it hadn’t to a man in a very long time.
“Something interesting up there?” she asked with a touch of humor.
His gaze drifted downward to meet hers and his cheeks turned a charming ruddy color. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy any more than necessary,” he replied.
“I’m covered.”
“I can see that.” His gaze swept over her, then he quickly looked away again. He set the teacup on the sink counter. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks for the tea,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.
“No problem.” He turned and left the room, but not before she saw the heat in his eyes, a heat that raised the temperature of the water around her.
He wanted her. She submerged herself deeper into the scented water. He might not like her. He might not like what he believed about her lifestyle, but he damn straight wanted her.
And she wanted him.
She liked him. He was not only physically strong but also possessed a quiet confidence that drew her to him. In many ways he reminded her of her father, a straight shooter who spoke his mind, a man who made his decisions based on a strong moral code and who ultimately had her best interests at heart.
He could have easily walked away from this assignment when her dad had been kidnapped. The man who was paying his fee may no longer be capable of doing that.
Her heart squeezed tightly at this particular thought. She realized she just wasn’t ready to face the possibility of never seeing her father again.
Troy could have deposited her back at the Waverly house and washed his hands of the whole mess, but he hadn’t done that. He was still here with her, protecting her, but her gratefulness had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted him.
She pulled herself from the bathtub and grabbed the towel that Troy had laid out for her. She dried herself and her hair, then wrapped the damp towel around her body and stood at the counter to sip the warm tea.
Troy had told her he had a specific type of woman in mind for his future, and Brianna knew she was nothing like the woman he’d eventually marry.
But he hadn’t found that woman yet, and they were here together and she needed his arms around her to take away the ice that chilled her core.
She finished her tea and used the brush from the counter to work the tangles out of her hair. The bath had helped soothe some of the muscle aches and pains, but not all of them. Her roll down the embankment had torn the skin off her knee and one elbow, but considering how fast and how far she had rolled, she was grateful she hadn’t broken any bones.
She opened the bathroom door and ran across the hallway and into the bedroom where she had been staying. She pulled on her nightclothes and her robe, then dropped the towel in the hamper back in the bathroom, grabbed the empty cup and saucer and went into the living room.
Troy sat on the sofa with the television playing softly. “Better?” he asked.
“Better,” she agreed, “but I have a feeling
I’m going to feel like I was hit by a truck in the morning.” She carried the dishes to the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher, then returned to the living room and sat next to him on the sofa.
“We need to talk,” he said, his eyes deep gray and somber. “I called Wendall Kincaid and told him what happened. Unfortunately, I don’t think there were any other witnesses, and James and I couldn’t tell what kind of a car it was, so I doubt if Kincaid will be able to do anything about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She knew he wanted to discuss what had happened, but she didn’t even want to think about it, much less talk about it. “You probably don’t know this about me, but denial is one of my favorite states of mind.”
“There’s no way we can deny what happened tonight,” he replied.
Somebody tried to kill you.
The words jumped unbidden to her mind, bringing with them a chunk of ice that sat unwelcomed in her chest. She fought against a shiver.
She leaned forward and placed a hand on Troy’s forearm and instantly felt his muscles tense. “Can we just maintain a state of denial for the rest of tonight?” she asked. “It’s almost bedtime and I don’t want to have any nightmares.”
He looked at her in surprise and at the same time muted the television. “Are you prone to nightmares?”
“No, but I’ve never had anyone trying to run over me with a car before.” She moved closer to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. His body was still tense, but wonderfully warm. He smelled marvelous, like his distinctive cologne and, more important, like safety.
“Maybe if I slept in your bed with you tonight I’d feel better.” She raised her head to look at him. The ice inside her melted just a bit beneath the intense heat in his gaze.
“I DON’T THINK that’s a good idea,” he said, his voice a low rumble. He knew he should scoot away from her, gain enough distance that he could breathe without smelling the clean, delicious scent of her.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” she replied and snuggled closer to him.
She had no idea what she was doing to him, couldn’t know that every nerve ending he possessed was electrified by her closeness.
He’d been electrified since the moment he’d stepped into the bathroom and caught sight of her in the tub. Although most of her had been covered in bubbles, he couldn’t help but notice the silkiness of her bare shoulders, the erotic length of her neck with her hair splayed back from her face.
He’d wanted nothing more than to strip naked and climb into that steaming water with her. As he’d thought about how close that car had come to hitting her, how quickly she could have been killed, he’d wanted to wrap her up in his arms and feel the steady beat of her heart against his own, assure himself that she was really alive and okay.
But there was no way he could be in a bed next to her and just want to hear her heartbeat. He’d want more. So very much more.
Even at this moment he was wondering what she was wearing beneath the short pink terry cloth robe. Did she have on a silky little nightgown or was she naked?
“I need a snuggle buddy,” she replied, her breath warm against the underside of his jaw.
“I’m not good at snuggling,” he replied, his throat feeling as if it were closing up.
“Oh, I think you underestimate yourself,” she replied.
Her hair smelled like citrus shampoo, and he wanted to bury his fingers in it, feel those golden strands slide through his fingertips. He wanted to caress her skin and see if it was as soft as he suspected.
“Brianna, I can’t sleep with you. I mean, I’m not sure I can be in a bed next to you and remain a gentleman.” It was a hard thing for him to confess, that he was weak where she was concerned.
Once again she raised her face up to look at him. Her blue eyes shimmered with just enough impishness to heat his blood. “Troy, I’m desperately hoping you won’t be a gentleman.”
He was lost. He was unaware that he was going to kiss her until their lips met and his hands slid up into her silky hair.
As with the first time he kissed her, he was stunned by the heat her mouth offered his and his swift reaction to it. He made an attempt to pull back, to stop from making what he knew would be a mistake, but she wound her arms more tightly around his neck and slid her tongue into his mouth.
She was temptation itself, and he was weak where she was concerned. Her body was warm and sweet-smelling, and her lips plied his with a heat that enflamed him.
The kiss seemed to last forever, stealing half his breath and making his chest hurt from the rapid pounding of his heart. When they finally broke apart, she slid out of his arms and off the sofa.
“Don’t think, Troy. Tonight isn’t the time for talking or for thinking. I almost died and what I want now is for you to hold me, to make me feel wonderfully alive.” She held her hand out for his and he found himself reaching out and standing.
Big mistake, he told himself as they walked down the long hallway to the master bedroom. He should stop this madness at the door, send her to her own bedroom and call it a night.
But when they reached the bedroom door, she unbelted her robe and allowed it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her standing before him in a pale pink chemise and thong underpants.
At the moment he couldn’t imagine his mind creating a fantasy woman he wanted more than the living, breathing woman standing in front of him.
She walked with him to the side of the bed, then molded herself to him. His arms wrapped around her, holding her so tightly he could feel the banging of her heart against his own.
Once again their lips met in a fiery kiss that not only removed any hesitation from his mind but also erased the capacity for rational thought.
As the kiss continued her fingers danced at the front of his shirt, unfastening the buttons with frantic need. When the buttons were all freed, she swept the shirt off his shoulders. As the garment fell to the ground behind him, her palms splayed against his bare skin.
He pulled his mouth from hers and looked down at her, wanting to make sure there was no doubt in her eyes, no second thoughts about what they were going to do.
From the hall light spilling into the dark bedroom he could see the glimmer in her eyes. He saw hunger there, and need, but he didn’t see anything that even resembled doubt.
“I’m getting into bed,” she said, her voice a husky whisper. As she turned to walk to the side of the bed, her naked buttocks were clearly visible and Troy felt as if he were about to explode.
As she got into bed, he sat on the opposite side and removed his ankle holster and gun. He set them on the nightstand along with his cell phone. He removed a condom from his wallet, then placed it on the nightstand, as well.
He was surprised to feel a shaking in his hands, shocked to realize he felt like a teenager about to have sex for the very first time.
It took him only moments to remove his shoes and socks and take off his slacks, then he slid beneath the covers and she rolled into his arms.
Once again they kissed, tongues moving as if battling for dominance, gasps of pleasure filling the air. He caressed the length of her back, loving the feel of her skin and her soft mewls of pleasure with each touch.
Her hands worked up and down his back, lingering at the waist of his briefs, briefs that had suddenly grown painfully small.
As their kissing and caressing grew more frenzied, he kicked off his underwear at the same time she sat up and pulled the chemise over her head and then removed her thong.
They came back together completely naked, and Troy cupped her breasts in his hands and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. She gasped with pleasure and he dipped his head to capture one of the turgid peaks in his mouth.
As he sucked and teased, she writhed beneath him, her obvious pleasure increasing his own. He moved one of his hands down the smooth flat of her abdomen, sliding lower…lower still until his fingers found her damp heat.
She moaned and moved her hip
s to meet his touch, and he came precariously close to losing it. But he wanted to give her pleasure before he took his own, knowing that once he entered her, things were going to be very quick, despite his wish to the contrary.
He moved his fingers against her and felt the tension building up inside her. She softly gasped his name and he loved the way it sounded on her lips. She said his name again, this time with a half laugh of pleasure as she stiffened. He felt the shudders that rippled through her, then she went limp, as if all the bones in her body had melted away.
She was still only a moment, then she reached down and encircled his hardness with her hand. He gasped with a pleasure so intense it made it difficult for him to draw breath.
Her mouth moved to the hollow of his throat, then down his chest, shooting jolts of electricity through him wherever it touched.
She was obviously not willing to be a passive taker, but rather wanted to be a giving participant in their lovemaking. Her mouth continued a downward track as she stroked him, and he realized he couldn’t take it any longer, that he was precariously close to losing it.
With a strangled gasp he rolled away from her and grabbed the condom wrapper from the nightstand. It took only seconds for him to get it out and on.
She must have sensed his urgent need, for she rolled on her back and welcomed him between her thighs. Before taking her he kissed her again, a deep, searing kiss that moved him not only on a physical level, but an emotional one.
And then he could wait no longer. He entered her, hissing pleasure as she wrapped her legs around his back to draw him in deeper. He didn’t move, simply savored the sensations that rippled through him. If there had been any thoughts left in his head, they vanished as he gave himself to the act of making love to her.
Slowly at first they moved together, then faster. Her hands gripped his buttocks as he rocked into her. Their gazes locked as their movements became more frenzied.
He wanted to last forever, to keep that glaze of bliss in her eyes, but all too quickly he felt himself building, and with a hoarse cry he reached his release. He collapsed with his upper body just off hers and drew in a lungful of air.
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