Bounty Hunter’s Woman

by Linda Turner

  He made it sound so simple. Her heart rattling in her chest, she eyed the entrance warily. The place looked deserted. “Maybe we should wait until a little later in the morning, when there are more people around,” she said. “If someone’s here, watching for us, they’re going to sit up and take notice the second we both walk in within five minutes of each other.”

  “First of all, I’m not walking in by myself. It’s still really early. Give it another fifteen minutes, and this place is going to get pretty frantic. When the parking garage starts filling up, I’ll walk in with some other passengers and no one will look twice at me.” He gave her a pointed look. “If you do the same thing, this should be a cakewalk. And remember, you don’t look anything like you did, and you’re using an alias. You’re going to be fine.”

  Far from convinced, she stared at him doubtfully. “And what if someone grabs you the minute you walk into the terminal?”

  “Then I have a problem,” he retorted. “You don’t because you’re not coming in until I call you.”

  When he handed her his phone, she asked nervously, “And if you don’t call?”

  “Then you get the hell out of here and head for the local office of Scotland Yard or the U.S. Embassy, whichever one you can find first,” he responded. “And call Buck the first chance you get.”

  “And just leave you? You can’t be serious.”

  “You have to,” he said firmly. “Your life is at stake. Remember? And I can take care of myself.”

  Not giving her a chance to argue further, he looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Things are starting to pick up. That’s my cue. Just follow the plan, and I’ll see you inside.” And before she could guess his intentions, he leaned across the console and kissed her.

  It wasn’t like the kiss he’d given her for the hotel clerk’s benefit—hot and passionate and overwhelming. Instead, he kissed her slowly, sweetly, so softly that she felt like she was floating. If she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn she imagined the whole thing. But her heart rolled over in her breast, her pulse was throbbing and she was totally entranced.

  Mindless, boneless, she leaned toward him, aching for another kiss, but he was gone almost immediately, leaving her alone and longing for something she’d only dreamed of finding in this lifetime.

  Later, she couldn’t say how long she sat there, unable to think of anything but the pounding of her heart and the man who was responsible for it. Did he know how easily he stole the breath right out of her lungs? Did she do the same to him?

  The phone rang then, startling her out of her musings. Sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he wasn’t there to see the heat coloring her cheeks, she snatched it up. “H-hello?”

  If he noticed her voice was husky and more than a little unsteady, he made no comment. Instead, he said, “It’s all clear, Pris. It’s safe to come in.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. There’s no one in here but a couple of families. You’re safe.”

  If circumstances had been different, she might have laughed. Safe? How could she be safe when he threatened her peace of mind, not to mention her heart? She wanted to run halfway across the world, but she knew it wouldn’t be far enough. What was he doing to her?

  Refusing to let her mind go there, she locked the car and forced herself to walk into the airport with a confidence she was far from feeling. The second she stepped inside, she saw Donovan from the corner of her eye. He was standing in the short line in front of the British Airways ticket counter. As she headed for it, a woman with a toddler stepped into line behind him. Relieved, Priscilla crossed the terminal and got in line behind the mother and toddler.

  Donovan didn’t spare her a glance, but Priscilla wasn’t fooled. Anyone as sharp as he was had to have eyes in the back of his head. He knew exactly what was going on all around him.

  Ten minutes later, she’d cleared the first hurdle. The ticket agent had checked her passport and hadn’t so much as blinked at the sight of her doctored passport. She wasn’t, however, in the clear yet. She still had to make it through security.

  Nearly paralyzed with fear, she headed for the security checkpoint and never saw Donovan heading in the same direction until his path intersected hers. His gaze focused on his ticket, he plowed into her, knocking her purse off her shoulder and her ticket and passport out of her hand.

  “Oh!”

  “Oh, geez, I’m sorry! Are you hurt?”

  “N-no,” she stuttered. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Thank God! I was so stupid—I wasn’t looking where I was going. Here…let me help you pick up your things.”

  He dropped down to one knee as she squatted to pick up her things. Her heart lurched at the sight of his smile and the wicked twinkle in his eyes. Oh, he was enjoying himself! “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re not supposed to talk to me until we’re on the plane.”

  “Can’t a man flirt with a pretty lady?” he teased.

  “Someone will see,” she said under her breath, “and think we’re together.”

  “Not when we didn’t come in together,” he said. “Now I can ask whoever’s sitting next to you to change places with me and they’ll just think I’m hitting on you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she tried not to smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said, and helped her to her feet. Then, in a slightly louder voice, he said in a thick Texas accent, “Can I buy you breakfast, miss, while you wait for your plane? A pretty little lady like you shouldn’t have to eat breakfast alone.”

  Reminding herself she was playing a role, she exclaimed, “Oh, I can’t! My husband wouldn’t like it. He’s very possessive. He wouldn’t even want me talking to you. Excuse me. I have to go.”

  “Well, damn, honey, you need to leave his ass and get yourself an easygoing fella like me.”

  Her eyes lowered to hide the laughter she knew was reflected there. She turned and hurried to the security check.

  She knew without looking that Donovan followed at a more leisurely pace, and she was thankful for his nearness as she stepped out of her shoes and set her purse on the conveyor belt to be x-rayed. Although she half expected security to give her passport a second look, the guard only waved her through, then Donovan as he got behind her in line.

  Not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry, Priscilla didn’t dare look back at Donovan as he followed her down the concourse to their gate. With a sigh of relief, she saw that the rest of the passengers were already boarding the plane. Presenting her ticket to the flight attendant, she walked right onto the plane with Donovan two steps behind her.

  Not surprisingly, their seats weren’t together, but Donovan didn’t let that present a problem. When he saw that Priscilla’s seat was toward the rear of the plane, he approached her seat companion, an elderly woman who was old enough to be her grandmother, and grinned. “Excuse me, ma’am, but could I convince you to change seats with me? I’d really like to get to know this little lady a whole lot better, if you don’t mind.”

  Far from impressed with him, she only said tartly, “It isn’t a question of whether I mind, young man, but whether she does.” Glancing at Priscilla, she lifted a gray brow over faded blue eyes sharp with amusement. “Do you want to talk to this scamp, young lady? He seems awfully sure of himself.”

  Heat climbing in her cheeks, Priscilla smiled. “He is outrageous, isn’t he? But I really would like to talk to him.”

  “Somehow I knew you would say that,” she replied, chuckling as she gathered her things and rose to her feet. “I remember what it was like to flirt with a scamp. Have fun.”

  Grinning, Donovan slipped into the seat she’d just vacated and reached for Priscilla’s hand. “Nice work, Pris. Talk about a cool customer! If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn you’ve been doing this for years.”

  With a will of their own, her fingers curled around his, and she was too elated to care. For the first time since she’d been kidnap
ped, she felt safe. “I did do pretty good,” she said, more than a little pleased with herself. “So where are we going?”

  Grinning, he leaned back and closed his eyes. “Budapest. Wake me when we get there.”

  If circumstances had been different, Donovan would have liked nothing more than to explore Budapest and its centuries-old streets with Priscilla, but there was no time. They may have managed to escape from England and her kidnappers, but he knew better than to drop his guard. So the second they landed and walked off the plane, he guided Priscilla to the ticket counter and purchased tickets for the next flight out. Forty minutes later, they were on their way to Los Angeles.

  It was a long trip. When they landed on US soil more than twenty hours after they’d left Scotland, Priscilla was pale as a ghost and obviously exhausted. She was, though, a hell of a good sport, Donovan acknowledged. She didn’t utter a word of complaint when he told her he was renting a car because they weren’t staying in Los Angeles. Instead, she joined him in the rental car and kept a sharp lookout to make sure they weren’t followed as they left LAX behind and headed for the Pacific Coast Highway.

  The traffic moved like lightning down the coast toward San Diego, and Donovan jumped right into the thick of things. He, like Priscilla, was exhausted, but he could find his way home with his eyes closed. And there was nothing he enjoyed more than driving the madness of California freeways. Exhilarated, he wove in and out of the other maniacs on the road and made it to San Diego in record time.

  Beside him, Priscilla frowned when he pulled up before his condominium and parked. “What are we doing here?”

  “This is where I live,” he said simply.

  Surprised, she blinked. “I thought you lived in London.”

  “I have a flat there…and a small place in Brazil. My work takes me all over the world.”

  “But this is your home base?”

  “Most of the time,” he agreed, and pushed open the driver’s door. “C’mon. I need to get some clothes and some fake IDs with U.S. addresses. How good are you with American accents?”

  “Pretty darn good,” she said in a perfect Southern drawl as she stepped from the car and joined him on the sidewalk. “Of course, I’ve always loved New York,” she added in a Brooklyn accent that could have fooled a native. “Take your pick.”

  “I knew there was a reason why I liked you,” he said, and unlocked his front door with a flourish. “C’mon in, said the spider to the fly. Make yourself at home. If you’re hungry, the kitchen is straight ahead. You might find frozen chicken nuggets in the freezer or some peanut butter in the cabinet—that’s about it. Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not really hungry, anyway. I’m too tired.”

  “I’ve got to work on the IDs,” he told her, “and it could take a while. Why don’t you lie down while you’re waiting? The bedroom’s right past the bathroom. I’ll wake you when I’m done.”

  Normally, she wouldn’t have gone anywhere near his bed, but she was so exhausted, she couldn’t resist. Without another word, she headed down the hall and found his bedroom. The second her head hit the pillow, she was dreaming.

  Creating fake driver’s licenses was something Donovan was particularly good at, and he was quite proud of the aliases he came up with for Priscilla. Mary Jo Culpepper of Savannah, Georgia; Jane Simon of New York City; and Lilly Maverick of Austin, Texas. He hadn’t heard her Texas accent, but she was a natural mimic. For her own safety, the quicker she lost her British accent, the better.

  Staring at her picture, which he’d copied from her fake passport, he found his thoughts drifting down the hall to his bedroom. He hadn’t heard a sound from her in the last hour. Obviously, she liked sleeping in his bed.

  The thought teased his senses, making it impossible for him to concentrate. He could see her sprawled across his bed, her dark lashes fanned across her ivory cheeks, her lips softly parted in sleep as she nestled against his pillow. What did she normally wear to bed? he wondered, transfixed. Pajamas? A nightgown? Nothing?

  A groan ripped through him at the images that conjured up. He had to stop this! They weren’t playing house. This wasn’t forever. Once it was safe for her to go home, she would, and he’d once again be alone. And that was just the way he wanted it. He didn’t want to have feelings for her, didn’t want to make the mistakes with her that he’d made with Jennifer. He didn’t want to trust her.

  And what difference did it make what she normally wore to bed? From what he’d seen, it was jeans and T-shirt and, sometimes, even tennis shoes!

  And he thanked God for that as he headed down the hall toward his bedroom. Because, right or wrong, he knew that if she’d taken a single thing off, even her shoes, he would have been in trouble.

  Stopping in the doorway of his bedroom, he groaned at the sight of Priscilla lying on top of the covers of his bed. She’d taken her shoes off.

  He was, he told himself, going to have a talk with her…just as soon as she was out of his bed. But when he stepped over to the bed and shook her by the shoulder, she only moaned and buried her head under his pillow. “C’mon, Priscilla, wake up. It’s time to leave.”

  Her only answer was silence.

  “Don’t do this,” he growled. “We need to get out of here.”

  “No.”

  Surprised, he frowned. “What?”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she said into his mattress. “I have to sleep.”

  “You can sleep in the car.”

  Her response was, once again, silence.

  “Dammit, Prissy! You can’t do this.”

  She not only could; she did. Even as he watched, she seemed to go boneless right before his eyes, and he realized she’d fallen asleep again.

  No! he muttered. He hadn’t intended to stay. He certainly hadn’t intended to sleep with her. There was always the couch, but dammit, he wasn’t going to sleep on the couch in his own home. If Priscilla didn’t like it, she could sleep on the couch!

  Crawling into bed beside her, he had little hope of sleeping. Not with Prissy right beside him and tempting him with every breath she took. He’d just have to suffer through it, he told himself sternly, and hope she woke up before he did something stupid…like reach for her. Why did she have to look so soft and touchable when she was sleeping? he wondered, unable to take his eyes off her. She was making this impossible, and she didn’t even know it!

  Frustrated, he turned his back on her, but it didn’t help. He heard her sigh in her sleep and felt her move into a more comfortable position. Then her bare foot innocently brushed his. There was nothing innocent about his response.

  He counted sheep, mentally checked the files of every arrest he’d ever made and went over the birthdays of every member of his family. It didn’t help. Then, without even knowing when it happened, he fell asleep.

  Three hours later, he woke to find Priscilla still sound asleep…and in his arms. Groggy from sleep, his defenses nonexistent, he groaned. This was not a good idea, he told himself. He needed to put her from him and get the hell out of bed. Now! But how the devil was he supposed to do that when she was pressed up against him and he could feel every soft, enticing curve? He liked to think he had a hell of a lot of self-control, but he was only human.

  And she was the kind of woman who could haunt a man’s dreams and make him want things he shouldn’t.

  With no effort whatsoever, he could imagine himself sleeping with her every night for the rest of his life, building a home with her, having babies with her, growing old with her. She had a softness to her, a femininity that was incredibly appealing. Every instinct he had told him she would be the kind of lover that would turn a man inside out…

  In the deepening shadows of his bedroom, he stiffened at the thought. What the devil was he doing? Priscilla had RELATIONSHIP, and, worse yet, COMMITMENT, stamped all over her, and he wasn’t going there. Not again.

  Jennifer, too, had appeared to be the kind of woman a man could trust to keep a com
mitment. She’d claimed she wanted marriage, a life with him, babies, but that was only as long as there were still stars in her eyes. When things got real, not to mention tough, commitment didn’t mean a damn thing. She’d still walked out on him during the biggest crisis of his life.

  Which was why there was no woman in his life now, he reminded himself. And he didn’t think there ever would be. After all, he had it made playing the field. When he wanted sex, he could get it. A date for dinner was only a phone call away. And when he wanted space, he had all that he wanted. He was footloose and fancy free and didn’t answer to anyone but himself. That was just the way he liked it.

  So what was he still doing there, lying in bed with a woman who made him think of things he didn’t want? He was only asking for trouble, and he’d had more than enough of that already just trying to keep her safe. Getting romantically involved with her could only lead to disaster.

  Knowing that didn’t make it any easier for him to let her go. Irritated with himself, he slowly released her and eased out of the bed, half expecting her to wake any second. But she was still dead to the world and only sighed in her sleep. Not sure if he was relieved or disappointed, he soundlessly strode across the room in his stocking feet and shut the door behind him before heading down the hall to his office, which he’d set up in the spare bedroom.

  The second he shut his office door behind him, he called Buck. It wasn’t until Buck growled, “This better be damn good,” that he realized it was the middle of the night. With the time changes and nonstop traveling, he’d completely lost track of time.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to look at my watch—”

  “Donovan? Is that you?”

  “Yeah. I just wanted to let you know Priscilla and I finally made it out of England and back to the States.”

  “Thank God! Where are you?”

  “At my place in San Diego, but we’ll be leaving here as soon as she catches up on her sleep. It’s too dangerous, staying in one place for long. How are things going at the ranch?”