by Diana Duncan
“I want to help you.” Dallas’ drawl was urgent and sincere as his hand reached over and covered hers. “But I can’t help unless I know what happened. I need to know what you’re planning.”
Help her? She’d been fighting alone so long, the offer stunned—and scared—her. She didn’t dare depend on anyone but herself. Mia yanked her fingers free and her gaze ricocheted to his. “Why? Why do you care? Why did you even marry me?”
Dallas massaged his forehead. “What we’ve got here is a stone-cold Texas stand-off.” He indicated her loaded plate. “Let’s eat before everything goes to ruin.”
“Yes, let’s.” She snatched up her knife and fork, and then stopped short. Dallas’s bowed head as he paused for a silent blessing reminded her that too many meals had passed since she’d bothered to do the same. She took a moment to follow his example before attacking her juicy steak.
After a minute or two, she sensed him staring. She looked up to meet his amused glance. “At least take time to chew, sweetheart.”
She paused for another drink of wine. “I told you I haven’t eaten all day.”
“You should have said something. I would’ve made sure you got fed.” He shook his head. “The last time I saw anybody tuck away food at that rate, I was sitting across the table from Bulldozer Brady after football practice.”
Mia savored a bite of buttery sweet lobster. “Mmm. You played football?”
“And baseball. In college. Mavericks and Longhorns.”
“Let me guess, quarterback.”
“How did you know?”
She grinned. “Bossy attitude and fast hands.”
He burst into laughter, his rich chuckles more tantalizing than the cheesecake. “Bossy pot, meet fast kettle.”
“Very funny.” Mia dug into her baked potato. “Is your family still in Texas?”
“The entire wild clan. Mama, a step-daddy, my twin sisters, Torie and Christie, two brothers-in-law, and a grand total of six nieces between them.”
“All girls? Whoa.”
“Yep. I have a couple of male cousins who visited during the summers, but otherwise, it’s all McQuade’s Estrogen Brigade.”
She laughed. “Didn’t you mention having three sisters before?”
“Nothing weasels past you, does it?” His knuckles whitened on his steak knife. “My baby sister, Tyler-Anne is…she’s dead.”
“Oh, Dallas, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. It’s been ten years, but …” He emptied his wineglass in one abrupt gulp. “What about you? You have family around?”
Natural question. One that killed her remaining appetite. “I’m an only child. My father is an Army Colonel and my mother is devoted to him.” She pushed aside her dinner plate. “Oregon’s a long way from Texas. What lured you north?”
“Work. And a woman.”
The sudden nausea had to be because she’d eaten too fast, right? “Uh … what will she think about you abruptly taking yourself off the market?”
A brawny shoulder lifted, but the gesture was stiff. “It’s been over for a while. I never would’ve married you if I’d been involved with someone else.” He indicated the cheesecake. “Dessert?”
“Maybe later. I’m so full I’m in danger of exploding.”
“Me too.” Dallas leaned back in his chair. “I sure could use some fresh air and exercise. How about you?”
“Sounds great. Let me grab my socks and sneakers.”
His grin bounced back. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I like your shoes. They go real well with the bridal theme.”
“Why do you think I chose pink?” She wrinkled her nose as she headed to the sofa to put them on. “Wish I had something other than a formal gown to wear, though.”
“We’re in Vegas, darlin’. The only thing people will think is how beautiful you look.”
The compliment rendered her mute all the way downstairs.
Dallas suggested a stop at the hotel gift-shop to buy a toothbrush and personal care items she hadn’t had time to pack, and then he had the purchases sent to the room. His thoughtfulness melted yet another a layer of her defenses while they strolled the Vegas strip.
Her new husband had apparently decided to temporarily forgo the grilling and surprised her by turning into a charming escort and engaging, intelligent conversationalist.
She managed to sneak in a bit of subtle interrogation here and there using her best witness-wheedling methods. No surprise, Dallas didn’t slip and disclose anything significant. They were only postponing the showdown, but even she knew when to stop banging her head against Texas granite and regroup.
He entertained her with fond, funny anecdotes about his sisters and nieces. Delighting in his husky laugh, she shared several humorous incidents from law school—the last time she’d been truly happy.
In spite of Mia’s wariness, she relaxed and enjoyed his company. She even let him take her hand and pull her close to his side to maneuver through a boisterous crowd of conventioneers, then didn’t protest when he kept her fingers tucked in his.
By the time they returned to the hotel room, she felt as if she’d not only met the rowdy McQuade clan, but liked them. Dallas had experienced a completely different upbringing from her own. He obviously loved his family, with the affection returned in full.
What would her life be like if she’d met him earlier, before her already fragile trust had been shattered by Paul’s duplicity? Before she’d built a permanent wall around her heart? Maybe she’d have a family to love and laugh with, instead of an all-consuming quest for retribution. Other than Val, she had no one.
A tidal wave of loneliness threatened to capsize her as she went to the window and stared out at the bejeweled strip. She gripped the windowsill.
Retribution would have to be enough.
“Mia? You all right?”
She turned at Dallas’ quiet inquiry. “Of course.” Mia looked down, twisting the unfamiliar silver ring on the third finger of her left hand. “When we get home, send me a bill for the wedding and honeymoon expenses. I don’t want to owe you anything.” Somehow, she’d come up with the money, even if she had to deplete the few remaining dollars in her skimpy retirement account.
His mouth softened as he walked over to her. “Who hurt you so badly, sweetheart?”
Mia choked up. “Doesn’t matter.”
He stroked a gentle fingertip down her cheek. “It matters to me.”
For the third time in hours, she, who never cried, fought scalding tears. Mia cleared her throat. “It’s in the past. Over and done.”
His warm hand cupped her neck, his thumb massaging her nape. “Over, maybe, but not done. It still haunts you.”
Because she longed to melt into him, let him ease the pain, she made herself step back. “Can’t change what was. Can only learn to live with it.”
“Been there.” His eyes darkened, grief etching hard lines in his handsome face. “Live with it every damned day.”
Mia’s lungs constricted. She wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hurt. What was he doing with—or for—Montoya? “Dallas …”
He turned and stalked to the entry closet. “Today’s been a helluva party. You ready for bed?”
Bed. And Dallas McQuade. A combo she did not want to think about. She cleared her throat again. “I am tired.”
He carried his duffel to the sofa, unzipped it. “Here.” He strode back to Mia and tossed her a neatly folded white shirt. “You’ll be more comfortable sleeping in this.”
Inside the bathroom, she buttoned Dallas’s shirt, refusing to dwell on what a woman who was wearing a man’s shirt had usually been doing with that man. The curved shirttail reached her thighs and she had to roll up the sleeves a country mile. A faint aroma of his fresh masculine scent clung to the soft fabric. Mia couldn’t resist burying her nose in the sleeve for a moment.
She’d be sleeping with Dallas’s essence wrapped around her all night, whether she wanted to or not.
Mia brushe
d her teeth, then snapped off the bathroom light and walked into the bedroom, pulse skittering. She intended to sleep on the sofa. But damn, she really, really wanted to hop into that amazing bed with McQuade.
She confiscated the creamy satin comforter, wadded it up and headed for the sitting room.
Dallas met her halfway. “Thank you.” He tugged the comforter from her grasp. “This’ll come in handy when I’m bunking on the couch.”
She fisted her hands on her hips. “Your legs will hang two feet over the end of the sofa.”
“I only sleep a few hours a night, anyway.” He gave her a lazy, teasing grin that tied her insides into knots of desire. “Unless you want to snuggle up beside me on that big decadent mattress?”
The idea was all too-tempting. “Enjoy the couch, cowboy.”
She marched into the bedroom and climbed into the king-size bed. Curling into a ball, she pulled the blankets over her head.
* * *
It seemed like only minutes later when Dallas’s voice penetrated her dark cocoon, dragging her from a fitful sleep. “Good morning, Mia.”
“Hunh?” she mumbled into the sheet. “Go ‘way.”
“C’mon, we need to get a move on.”
“Leave. Without. Me.”
“Just chock full of sunbeams in the a.m., aren’t we?” The deep chuckles she normally found so appealing made her grind her teeth. “Rise and shine, darlin’.”
“I may rise, but no frakkin’ way am I’m gonna get anywhere near shiny.”
“Come out, come out …” his drawl enticed. “I brought you coffee.”
The delicious aroma of hot coffee lured her from her nest, and she poked her head out.
A shaved, showered, gorgeously fresh Dallas stood beside the bed in jeans and a black shirt, holding a steaming cup. He snorted. “You look like a dandelion gone to seed.”
She threw a pillow at him, missing completely.
Still chuckling, he set the coffee on the nightstand and wisely departed.
After a hot shower, she emerged from the bathroom wearing her clean, pressed jeans and lavender T-shirt which Dallas had sent to the hotel’s valet service after she’d gone to bed. Considerate men were rarer than tap-dancing kangaroos, but apparently she’d found one. “Thanks for sending my clothes out for cleaning.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stopped short at the sight of him tugging loose the sheets and rumpling the bedding. “What are you doing?”
An ebony brow cocked. “Making the bed look like we did our share of sheet wrassling. Staff gossips, and Esteban is one shrewd hombre. Can’t have disturbing rumors finding their way back to him.”
She stared at the disheveled blankets, heat invading her cheeks as powerful cravings invaded her limbs. “That much sheet wrassling and I wouldn’t be able to walk.”
He grinned. “I guarantee it’d be worth it.”
Considering the impressive male anatomy she’d recently been up close and personal with, she didn’t doubt it. The heat in her face sizzled through her entire body. Even her toes tingled.
“I want bacon for breakfast … not ham, McQuade.” She spun on her heel and stalked out the door, his wicked chuckle following her.
Over a sumptuous breakfast and Bellinis outside at the airy Riva Poolside restaurant, Dallas told her Montoya and the others had checked out. Esteban had sent a message to their room earlier saying to enjoy the rest of the week together on his tab, and he’d send the jet back for them.
Mia looked at glittering fountains splashing into Mediterranean pools the same deep, compelling blue as Dallas’ eyes. Was Esteban truly so generous … or did he want them out of the way for some reason? In either case, she wasn’t spending any more nights with McQuade. “I can’t stay. I have to work tonight.”
“I figured as much. I booked us a commercial flight for ten a.m.”
“What excuse do we give Esteban for cutting short our ‘honeymoon?’”
Dallas flicked an amused glance at the now empty plates scattered over the tabletop. “Morning sickness?”
“I can’t help it if I have high metabolism.”
“All that mule-headedness burns a butt-load of calories.” He laughed. “I’m just cranking your chain, sugar. It’s refreshing to see a woman who isn’t afraid to eat.”
They took Esteban’s limo to the airport, where Dallas escorted her through the terminal and into an empty private first-class lounge to await their flight. She could get used to traveling in style.
Out of nowhere, Zane appeared beside them, a black leather jacket slung over one shoulder. “Morning, McQuade. Everything arranged?”
Dallas pulled airline tickets from his inside pocket and passed them to Zane along with her garment bag. “Ready for blast-off.”
Mia frowned. “I thought Zane left. Is he flying back to Portland with us?”
Dallas turned to her. “I’m headed back to Portland. You, my sweet, make-believe bride, are not.”
“I don’t underst—”
“This is for your own good, Mia.” Dallas quickly snapped a handcuff around her right wrist, then fastened the other end around Zane’s left one.
“Hey!” She tried to yank free. “What the—”
Dallas covered her and Zane’s bound wrists with Zane’s jacket. “You can make a stink and embarrass yourself, or you can go quietly. As far as the airline is concerned, you’re a VIP security transport. Nobody will notice you’re cuffed unless you draw attention. Either way, you’re outta here.”
He leaned close. “However, if you kick up a ruckus, Zane will show the authorities his bail bondsman license, and a very authentic-looking failure-to-appear warrant … with your name on it.”
Shock and rage made her shake. “You bastard!”
He shrugged. “Pays to have friends in low places, sugar.”
“Where am I going?” she said between her teeth.
Dallas handed her purse, which she’d dropped, to Zane. “You’ll find out when you get there.”
Zane grasped her elbow and marched her out. At the doorway, Mia dug in her heels and turned around to glare at her traitorous groom. She’d allowed herself to begin to think that maybe—just maybe—he actually cared. That they might become allies.
Look where gullibility had landed her.
She narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t heard the last of me.”
One corner of his sexy mouth quirked. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that. We won’t be seeing each other for a long time. Been real nice being married to you.” He saluted her with two fingers. “Temporarily.”
“You are so dead, cowboy!”
Snickering, the enigmatic Zane led her onboard the plane.
Chapter 6
Dallas deplaned in Portland two hours later. Whoo, boy. If looks could kill, his “wife’s” smoldering amber eyes would have lasered off his balls right there in McCarran International Airport.
Dallas’s brother-in-law Cal would have his hands full keeping Mia on the ranch once Zane had hauled her to Texas. Damned good thing Cal was a Texas Ranger and accustomed to hazardous duty. Mia would be safe—and stranded—on Cal and Torie’s remote spread until Dallas finished this job.
He felt no remorse about conning her. The thought of Mia ending up hurt, or worse, twisted his guts. His priorities had shifted in the last twenty-four hours.
In fact, he’d made the ultimate sacrifice—married her.
Even for a man who’d grown up protecting women, who went above and beyond to do so, marriage was a tad drastic. But he’d have done the same for any woman in imminent danger, right?
Sure you would, bucko.
Dallas wove through the crowded concourse flexing knotted shoulders. Yeah, he wanted her … so bad he hurt. But he wasn’t about to let it get personal. Mia Linden was simply another in a long line of damsels in distress, and he’d charged to the rescue.
Like always.
She and Torie would hit it off like two feisty peas in a pod. Christie, Mama and h
is gaggle of nieces would love her, too. Although, by the time he went to retrieve her, Mia would undoubtedly have taught his little darlings how to wreak all sorts of horrible new torture on their Uncle Dallas. He shuddered. He now had ten ladies eager to bust his chops.
Dallas located his black Jeep in the parking lot where one of his men had delivered it, then drove home, automatically watching for a tail. He’d destroyed or falsified all incriminating records of his past, or rendered them inaccessible. His house had been purchased under a pseudonym and paid for from a dummy corporate payroll account. His mail came to anonymous post office boxes. His family had never visited him, he always went to them via circuitous detours.
After unlocking the front door, he punched in the code to deactivate the best high-tech security system available. He didn’t bother turning on the light. He was used to living in the shadows, his entire focus on his mission.
Small penance for his sins.
Upstairs in his bedroom, he went to the gun safe in his closet and strapped on the shoulder harness that held his Glock 19. He wanted more firepower. Especially considering recent developments.
He’d been packing a compact Glock 26 in an ankle rig attached to his right boot, and a new KA-Bar knife inside the boot to replace the one that had been confiscated and turned on him during the fight in the woods after the attempted hit on Esteban. He’d had to check those for the commercial flight. He retrieved the weapons from his padded airline case and rearmed, then collected extra clips from the safe and stuck them in his jacket pockets.
Dallas paused to touch the handmade green, rust and ivory quilt covering the bed. His finger tracked the leaf pattern of his mother’s precise stitches in the soft cotton, and nostalgia speared him. Sometimes, he wished for a normal life, with a wife and children. A future.
But that wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen.
He’d have to make do with Mama’s quilts and knickknacks from his sisters and nieces displayed throughout his house to ease the solitude between too-infrequent visits.
He shook off the sentimentality. No time to wallow.