A Perfect Fit

by Sheridon Smythe

  Damned right I am , Brooke muttered to herself as she headed back to the cabin. He was mocking her, of course, but this time she wasn’t going after the bait. Out loud, she said, “I’ll see what we have in the way of food. Don’t wander off.”

  His soft, drawling voice stopped her in her tracks.

  “Oh, I’ve no intentions of letting you out of my sight.”

  And suddenly, with that single statement, Brooke felt a terrifying shift of control from captor to captive. Her heart began to thud heavily as she realized that she just might have misjudged him.

  Slowly, she turned around.

  Chapter Four

  If he thought to scare her, he was in for a disappointment.

  Brooke looked him straight in the eye—well, she could because she was standing slightly uphill—and demanded, “What did you mean by that?” Just for good measure, she aimed Hugo at him.

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Oh, nothing.”

  Oh, nothing. Brooke clenched her teeth. He wouldn’t know how badly she hated for someone to say those frustrating words instead of what they really meant. He wasn’t getting away with it, either. “Look, Mr.—what is your last name, anyway?” She seasoned her question with just the right amount of disgust to let him know that she really didn’t give a damn.

  Those bedroom eyes gleamed with something she couldn’t fathom. She thought it might be amusement.

  “Whatever you want it to be.”

  “You think this is just all a cute little game, don’t you?”

  “Not at all. I think you’re totally serious.”

  And with that he began to unbutton his shirt.

  Brooke stared at his fingers, her throat constricting with shock. “What—what are you doing?” Did she want to know? Did she really, really want to know?

  “I’m removing my shirt.”

  Smart ass , she thought. “Well, stop.”

  His gaze clashed with hers. Heat flashed through her system like high octane fuel through a carburetor.

  “Why?”

  Because it’s bothering me , hovered on her lips and thankfully died a quick death. She was fast learning that she had to watch her words around this man. He was likely to tangle them up before she could get them out. “Because any moment now, Dee could drive up, and—”

  “If you believe I’m the father of her baby, then I’m sure she won’t go into shock to see me without my shirt,” he remarked dryly.

  Brooke tried again, swallowing in search of moisture. He’d reached the third button. “But you still haven’t explained why you’re taking it off.”

  He glanced at the sun sinking behind a grove of trees. “I thought I might catch a few rays while I’m waiting. You don’t mind, do you? It’s been a while since I’ve had time.”

  Mind? Did she mind? Of course she minded! She didn’t know him—he was a stranger—and her sister’s boyfriend to boot! There were other disturbing factors she didn’t care to think about just at the moment. ‘Yes, I mind.” His eyes narrowed, but Brooke couldn’t tell if it was because of the sun, or because of what she’d said.

  “Why?”

  There was that damned word again. “Because—”

  “Does it bother you?”

  He was goading her, she realized, kicking herself for taking so long to notice. Maybe it took so long because he was now working on the last button. “Don’t flatter yourself. You forget—I know who and what you really are.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Sure Shot, Scum bag, Lover boy, and a few others I can’t recall at the moment.” He pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and shrugged it off, hanging it on her car antenna before turning to look at her. “Well, some other time I might assure you that you’re right about all of the above, but right now I’m just going to take a break and catch a little sun.”

  Brooke stared at his chest, a marvelous map of muscle and sinew. A dusting of dark hair began at his nipples and continued down, narrowing to a point that disappeared into his jeans, confirming her earlier prediction. His stomach was slightly rippled, his waist trim, and the prominent bulge in his crotch wasn’t her imagination.

  She swallowed very, very slowly, so that he wouldn’t notice.

  He noticed.

  A dark brow rose to taunt her. “Like what you see?”

  “I—I wasn’t looking.” Mortified at the husky note in her voice, Brooke cleared her throat. This was getting out of hand. “I’m sure Dee did, but you’re not my type.”

  “The chemistry’s there. You can’t deny it.”

  Now his voice sounded husky. Brooke’s heart gave a panicked flutter. “I’ll deny any damned thing I please,” she growled, then blew her tough answer by taking an involuntary step backward.

  His chuckle was like a low jolt of electricity.

  Before she did or said something she’d regret, Brooke turned and headed for the cabin. Once inside, she resisted the urge to look out the window and see what Mr. Sure Shot was doing now. But she wanted to, and that galled her.

  Where in the hell was Dee?

  ****

  Chirping birds. Serenity. A light, warm breeze. Sunshine against his bare skin.

  The company of a little fireball of a woman with intoxicating eyes and an earthy quality that fired his lust. The tantalizing possibility of making love to her.

  Alex couldn’t have been happier.

  He linked his hands behind his neck and threw back his head, closing his eyes against the pure pleasure of being away from the bump and grind of the business world.

  For just a short while, he wanted to savor the moment.

  Maybe his doctor was right. Maybe this was what he needed. He couldn’t deny that he already felt better, less tense, and the lurking, almost constant ache behind his eyes seemed to have waned. Good thing, too, he thought, because he’d left his meds in his briefcase in his hotel room.

  Brooke had said they’d stay all night if they had to. Alex hoped they did. In fact, he felt as if he could stay in this one spot for at least a few days, leaning against a dented Pinto with the sun warming his skin.

  After that he could move to the charming, quaint front porch and relax in the rocking chair another few days. Then there was the beautiful, inviting lake he’d glimpsed through the trees, not to mention the sexy woman inside the cabin.

  Gloria would worry.

  The thought jarred his peaceful doze and intensified the ache behind his eyes. Alex sighed. He supposed he should use his cell phone and call his secretary as he’d promised. Otherwise, she’d send out a posse. Bending casually over, he slipped his hand into his boot and removed the slim phone from a Velcro strap inside his boot. Short of carrying a purse, he’d had to do something after losing his fifth phone.

  He palmed it and straightened.

  If she happened to be looking out the window at him, she would have a side view. Alex was fairly certain that if he were careful, she wouldn’t see the phone against his left ear, and if he kept his voice low, she wouldn’t hear him talking. Dialing the number without looking would be tricky, but if he took his time, he thought he could manage it.

  He missed on the first try, realizing afterward that he must have pushed end instead of send. Turning as if he were viewing the forest to his left, Alex held the phone against his leg and looked down as he punched in Gloria’s home phone number.

  This time he pushed the right buttons.

  Resuming his original position, he brought the phone to his ear. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in which Alex imagined Brooke emerging from the cabin a dozen times, Gloria answered.

  “Gloria, this is Alex. Listen, I can’t explain now, but I’ve been delayed in Quicksilver. I’m just calling to...”

  “Alex? Something’s wrong, isn’t it? You’re talking funny. I knew you shouldn’t have gone up there alone!”

  Damn Gloria and her overactive imagination, Alex thought, mastering his frustration. It was the woman’s one single flaw. He opened his mouth to tell her that he�
�d found a little slice of heaven and had decided to stay a few days, when Brooke shouted from the porch.

  Alex nearly dropped the phone.

  “I’ve decided I want you back in the cabin so that I can keep an eye on you! I didn’t go to all that trouble to kidnap you just to have you hotwire my car and hightail it out of here.”

  “Who’s that?” Gloria demanded sharply. “What’s she saying? Alex, are you in trouble?”

  Brooke hadn’t seen the phone—he was sure of it.

  He had no choice; he found what he hoped was the right button and pushed it, cursing beneath his breath. Stealthily, he lowered his arm and dropped the phone to the ground. With a casual sweep of his booted foot, he kicked it out of sight—and hopefully out of earshot—beneath the Pinto.

  But as luck would have it, he could still hear Gloria’s high, squeaky voice coming from the phone. With a casual swagger, he pushed himself away from the Pinto and began to walk in Brooke’s direction.

  “Get your shirt.”

  Alex paused, reached behind him, and grabbed his shirt from the antenna. He put it on, but left it unbuttoned. The sight of his bare chest seemed to unsettle his little kidnapper, and he liked her unsettled. In fact, he’d like to unsettle her right out of her clothes.

  Suddenly, the rocking chair behind her sparked a new interest—and with it a sharp, erotic image of Brooke sitting astride him, naked and eager.

  “What makes you think I know how to hotwire a car?” he asked, reaching the porch and propping a booted foot on the bottom step.

  She lifted a contemptuous blonde brow, but her gaze dipped involuntarily to his chest. Alex prudently swallowed a grunt of satisfaction. He’d never considered himself anything out of the ordinary, but Brooke had a way of looking at him that made him feel like People Magazine’s sexiest man of the year.

  There was definitely chemistry zinging between them and around them, whether she’d admit it or not.

  “I thought reporters knew how to do everything.”

  “This one doesn’t.” Alex drew his gaze along her tense, petite body, deliberately provoking her. “But I’m not adverse to a few lessons, if you’re interested.” By now she’d know that he wasn’t talking about hotwiring a car. He was, however, most definitely interested in hotwiring her.

  “Find yourself another teacher.” She whirled toward the cabin door, mumbling beneath her breath, “Sex maniac.” Alex heard her old-fashioned description, just as he suspected she meant for him to hear. There was nothing subtle about Brooke Welch, he was fast discovering. Or predictable. He liked that about her. Hell, he not only liked it, he amended, it turned him on!

  “You have something against sex?” he asked, his lips quirking as she froze in the doorway.

  Her shoulders twitched, warning him ahead of time. He wiped the smile from his face before she could make a full turn. Whiskey-bright eyes regarded him with open disgust. Slowly, she brought the point of her jacket pocket level with his chest, her meaning unmistakable. Color him stupid, but he’d lost his apprehension a long time ago.

  “Did you ask Dee that question? Did you come on to her like you’re coming on to me?” Her voice was soft, with an underlying pain that made Alex wince—and reminded him of who she believed he was. “Is that how you seduced my baby sister? By feeding her this bull crap? Because if you did,” she advanced until she was even with the top step, glaring down at him, “I can forgive Dee for believing you. But I can’t forgive you for taking advantage of her innocence.”

  Alex searched for a suitable answer, and came up empty-handed. Without revealing his true identity, what could he say? The man she thought him to be was probably everything she claimed he was. He could hardly disagree. In her place, he would be every bit as angry and disgusted.

  “It’s my fault, you know,” she continued in that same, level voice. Alex thought he might drown in her eyes, they were so liquid and intense. “I taught her to believe the best of everyone, and overlook the bad. I never dreamed she’d meet someone like you. Someone without a conscience, someone who makes a game out of seducing women.”

  The heated gaze that crawled over him now had nothing and everything to do with sex. Alex felt its searing fire right down to his very soul. Instinctively, he knew that even while she wanted him, she hated him just as equally for that very reason. She was a tigress defending her young and outraged because she believed she’d failed. He considered telling her the truth again. And again and again until he saw doubt flare in her gut-punching eyes. But in this instance, Alex didn’t think the truth would set him free.

  Brooke Welch wasn’t going to be a happy camper to discover she’d not only missed her target, but had kidnapped her new boss instead.

  Chapter Five

  Forcing him to come inside was a bad idea, Brooke decided, slapping peanut butter on a stale cracker. She was standing at the sink, and Mr. Testosterone was standing right beside her, watching. In fact, he was so close, a mere inch to the right would send her elbow crashing into his.

  She clamped her lips shut. Telling him to move would undoubtedly make him think he was getting to her. And he was, of course, but she would walk across hot coals before she’d give him an inkling.

  “Excuse me,” she muttered.

  He moved just enough to allow her to stretch in front of him and pitch the dirty knife into the kitchen sink. Brooke took her time moving back into position, as if she wasn’t the least bit aware of his slightly sweaty, sun-scented skin bared by the open shirt.

  “Are you always this tense?” he asked, his gaze following her every move.

  Brooke popped a cracker into her mouth and chewed. Nothing like a stale cracker and dry peanut butter, she thought with a grimace. Okay, she wasn’t that hungry. She shoved the rest of the crackers aside and leaned her arm along the counter. When she finally managed to swallow, she said, “What if it were your sister pregnant? Are you saying you wouldn’t be upset? A little tense? Kinda concerned?”

  His lips twitched. “You do sarcasm well.”

  “Thanks.” Brooke folded her arms, wishing she could ditch the jacket. It was growing warm in the cabin, and he wasn’t helping any by crowding her space. There really wasn’t any reason not to remove her jacket, she thought dryly. She’d already figured out the ‘gun’ in her pocket was about as effective as a piece of wood. Or a piece of plastic. Alone as they were, he could have overpowered her any number of times.

  But she kept the jacket on because it made her feel safer, and gave the ogler less to ogle.

  “So...wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t have a sister, but yes, I would be concerned if she were to get pregnant before she wanted a child. I’d also be mature enough to realize it takes two to tango.”

  Brooke thought about ignoring his last comment—and the way his shirt gaped open when he shifted—but on second thought, she nodded. “You’re one hundred percent right. It does take two. But unlike the male party, the female doesn’t have a choice in taking her share of the responsibility.”

  “There are choices.”

  She tightened her arms at his implication, but when his gaze dipped and she realized the motion caused her breasts to swell above her arms, she immediately relaxed. Good grief! No matter what she said or did, he managed to turn it into something sexual. “Are you suggesting that Dee get an abortion?”

  “I was speaking of adoption.”

  “That would make things easy for you!”

  “And for your sister.”

  “Dee,” Brooke snapped. “Her name is Dee! I’m sure you said it often enough when you were...when you were...” She faltered, cursing the heat that crept into her face. “Too bad you didn’t think about Dee before.”

  “You said something earlier about a faulty condom. Wouldn’t that make this a no-fault accident?”

  Brooke worked in a condom factory where the joke of the day was anything that didn’t have the word condom in it. There was absolutely no excuse for the blush that heated her cheeks.
But it was there nonetheless. “Maybe, but there’s still the baby, and the fact that you refused to answer Dee’s calls. You’re lucky I didn’t call my brothers.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Oh, he was a cool one! Not. “Because I didn’t want them to go to jail.” She didn’t think she needed to elaborate. In fact, her threat should have left him shaking in his rattlesnake-skin boots, if Dee had told him anything at all about Logan and Dean Jr. and their infamous tempers. Brooke couldn’t imagine Dee not telling him, if she loved him half as much as she professed to love him.

  But of course it didn’t scare Mr. Cool. He didn’t so much as twitch an eyebrow, and that flicker she kept seeing in his eyes when he looked at her bore no resemblance to fear. Dee, where are you?

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, remembering and regretting her earlier promise that they’d stay all night if they had to. Pride was a funny thing, and sometimes not a good thing. Instead of getting in her car and getting the hell away from him, she said, “It’s getting dark. I’d better turn the power on.” Anxious to put some space between them, Brooke found a flashlight in one of the kitchen drawers and sped past him. The breaker was outside—away from him—and she couldn’t get to it fast enough.

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “I don’t need protection,” Brooke flung over her shoulder as she opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. “Besides, I’ve got Hu—um—this, if I need it.” She indicated the shape in her pocket. “You should know there’s nothing dangerous around here anyway.” Except you.

  “I’m from Texas. How would I know?”

  Dee had mentioned nothing about Texas, but Brooke sensed he spoke the truth. She should have figured it out the moment she saw him. Instead, she’d been too busy trying to keep her eyes from popping out. She was a sick individual, she decided, for even noticing how handsome he was.

  He was her sister’s boyfriend.

  The father of her sister’s baby. Make that the reluctant father.

  But what if he wasn’t? a very unwelcome voice whispered inside her head. What if he didn’t even know Dee? Would she be running into his arms instead of away from him?