Hero For Hire

by Sheridon Smythe

  Her darkened, luminous eyes studied him for a long moment. Finally, she said, “And if I agree, you'll help me get my money and my locket back from Ned Barlow?"

  "A week. If we don't find him within that time limit, we head for home.” She hesitated, pulling her hand from his and rubbing at the same spot he'd been rubbing ... as if it tingled? Well, hell, a guy could hope!

  "All right, you've got yourself a deal."

  Mac moved from the bed and put a couple of safe yards between them. “One more thing, though; you're to remain here while I go after Barlow."

  "Like hell I will!"

  To Mac's surprise, Savannah rose from the bed and approached him, finger pointed at his chest, eyes flashing with ire. She stopped short of poking him.

  "I'm fed up with being treated like a princess, Mackenzy Cord. It's about time you found out that I'm not breakable! So, if you think I'm going to just sit here meekly while you're out searching for my money, think again."

  Choking back a smile, Mac said, “Whoa, Sav, I didn't mean—"

  "Oh, I know what you meant!” Savannah continued to rage, her voice rising. “You've always thought of me as a pampered butterfly with no backbone and no brain. You're just like all the rest of the men in Angel Creek!"

  Mac took offense at that. “Wait a damned minute! I never said you didn't have backbone. Obviously, you've got plenty of back bone, or you wouldn't be here. I just don't want you anywhere near Barlow. He's dangerous."

  "You're not leaving me behind!"

  "Yes I am!” Mac shouted right back.

  Someone pounded on the door, interrupting their heated exchange. Without thinking Mac jerked it open.

  It was the clerk, looking sleepy-eyed and irritated. “Is there a problem? I heard you shouting downstairs.” The clerk looked past Mac to Savannah. “Should I call the sheriff, ma'am?"

  To Mac's chagrin, Savannah seemed to be considering the clerk's offer. She wouldn't ... would she? Narrowing his gaze at her, he said softly, “We're having a discussion, aren't we darling?” When she continued to hesitate, Mac took a step in her direction, fully intending on taking her into his arms again. If that's what it took to gain her cooperation, then he was more than willing to comply. Again and again and again. With pleasure.

  "Yes, yes,” Savannah said hastily, apparently recognizing his intent. “My ... husband and I were just having a silly little argument. But we've come to a compromise, haven't we ... darling?"

  This time her meaning was very clear. While Mac had to admire her clever maneuver, he was not happy with the outcome. She had no idea how dangerous bounty hunting could be. If something happened to her while she was in his care, George Carrington would have a bounty on his head.

  And Mac would never forgive himself.

  He could always slip away in the night. He nearly smiled at his ingenious solution. If he left her behind, Savannah would be fit to be tied on his return, but at least she wouldn't be in danger.

  "As a matter of fact,” Savannah added in a sugar-sweet voice that immediately alerted him and made him wonder if he'd spoken his thoughts out loud. “He was just about to get his things from his room."

  She sash-shayed to him in a way that made his mouth water, gazing at him in a loving way that almost convinced Mac she was sincere. The little minx.

  "No sense wasting our money, is there darling? After all, we're a married couple. It's silly to keep separate rooms after we've reconciled our differences."

  Mac decided that instead of kissing her this time, he might have to choke her.

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  Chapter Five

  "Are you out of your ever-lovin’ mind?” Mac demanded the moment the clerk disappeared after volunteering to retrieve Mac's belongings. “We can't stay in the same room together!"

  Savannah folded her arms across her breasts, her chin tilted at a stubborn angle that was beginning to look very familiar."Why not? Everyone thinks we're married."

  "Because—because we're not married,” Mac argued, remembering to lower his voice. His face began to heat. “You're an unmarried lady, and unmarried ladies do not stay alone in hotel rooms with men."

  "You're not just any man, Mac,” Savannah chided. “You're my friend. We've known each other for ages. I trust you."

  "I'm not made of stone."

  At his low-voiced confession, Savannah's jaw dropped. She stared at him for a full moment before she began to laugh.

  He didn't find a single thing about the conversation humorous.

  "Mac! You are priceless. For a moment there I almost believed you. But you forget—I know you, and if you think I'm going to fall for your pathetic attempt to frighten me, think again. I'm not letting you out of my sight so that you can sneak off without me!"

  Frustration was a mild word to express how he felt. His very first attempt to let Savannah know how he truly felt about her, and she laughed in his face! Somehow, he had to convince her that sharing a room was a terrible idea. Since she didn't believe the truth, lying seemed the only solution. “If I promise not to leave without you, will you give up on this insane idea?"

  Those luscious lips firmed with resolution. “No, I won't. I trust you to be a gentleman, but I don't trust you to keep your word. You'd justify it by saying it was for my own good."

  They fell silent as the clerk returned with Mac's bags. When he'd gone, Mac locked the door and began unfastening his shirt. “Fine,” he said, shrugging out of his shirt and moving his hands to the tie of his trousers.

  "Mac ... what are you doing?"

  He nearly smiled at her squeaky voice. “I'm getting undressed for bed."

  "But—but—you can't undress here!"

  Mac paused with his hands on the waist of his trousers. He lifted a brow. “I can't? Why can't I? You said yourself that you trusted me. Besides, I'm tired, so I'm going to bed. Since I do not sleep in my clothes, it stands to reason that I would have to remove them.” He slept fully clothed when he was away from home, but she couldn't know that.

  Savannah's hand went to her throat. Her eyes appeared huge in her suddenly pale face. “You should undress in the sitting room ... where you're going to sleep," she emphasized.

  "I don't see what difference it makes where I undress,” Mac tossed out casually. But a second glance at her pale face and he took pity on her. He left his trousers riding loose on his hips. While he was angry enough over her tricking him to shock her, he didn't want her fainting on him. Chances were Savannah had never seen a naked man before, and he wasn't just naked; he was partially aroused. “Remember, this was your smart idea. We've been friends forever, right?"

  "Yes, we have, but—"

  "And since this wasn't my idea, I shouldn't have to suffer, should I?"

  "Well, no, but—"

  "I'm not shocking your tender sensibilities, am I? Strong back-boned woman that you are,” Mac added in a drawling voice.

  "You're making fun of me."

  Mac bit back a wicked smile at her injured tone and tried to sound innocent. “I'm certainly not! By the way, would you mind helping me off with my boots?"

  "Who—how do you remove them when you're alone?"

  "I don't."

  "Oh."

  "So, will you give me a hand?” He strode to the bed and sat down, beckoning her with curled fingers. Hesitantly, she approached him. “Now, turn around and lift your skirts."

  "I beg your ... pardon?” she stammered hoarsely.

  Wondering just how far she'd carry the challenge, Mac stifled a laugh—and the urge to pull her onto his lap and kiss her senseless. He placed his hands on her hips and turned her around. “Now lift your skirts. Trust me, this won't hurt a bit."

  Savannah gathered her skirts, but shot him a warning glare over her shoulder. “If you're teasing me, Mac, I'm going to sock you in the eye."

  Mac blinked innocently at her. He lifted his leg and slid it slowly between hers—was that a gasp he heard? “Now, grab my boot and pull."

  Grun
ting, Savannah pulled and yanked on the errant boot while Mac took shameless pleasure in watching her wiggling bottom. There was no question about him dropping his drawers now! She'd faint for certain.

  Finally, she managed to remove his boot. Her face was flushed, and several tendrils of hair had worked loose from the pins. Before she could catch her breath, Mac offered the other boot, again taking his time sliding his leg between hers. He could feel the warmth of her thighs against his leg and groaned.

  Savannah immediately froze. Her breathless, “Am I hurting you?” twisted his insides.

  "Ah, no. Not at all.” To Mac's disappointment, the second boot was easier to remove than the first. When she faced him again, he couldn't resist drawing out the torture. And it was pure torture! “Don't you have trouble undoing all those buttons yourself?” He reached behind her and ran his hand along the long row of tiny buttons on her blouse.

  Her eyes flared wide. She arched her back and moved slightly to the side, dislodging his hand. “I—I can manage."

  Mac arched a brow. “Why manage when I'm here? Besides, I owe you one.” Just as he'd hoped, Savannah couldn't resist the challenge. She whirled around and presented her back to him.

  Eying the delightful curve of her spine gave Mac pause. Maybe he'd been a little hasty in teasing her...

  * * * *

  With her back turned, Savannah couldn't see Mac, but the image of his bare chest remained emblazoned in her mind.

  She'd never see a man so perfectly formed, so ruggedly handsome. Ripples upon ripples of muscles rolled along his stomach, followed by a dark line of hair that disappeared into his trousers. She'd even managed to count the scars—three in all, that in no way detracted from the beauty of his skin. Golden from the sun, smooth and hard-looking, Savannah wished she was brave enough to reach out and touch it. Or even more scandalous, trace that mysterious line of hair right into his—

  Mac's fingers brushed her back as he reached for the first button in a long line of many. Her naughty thoughts turned in a different, equally naughty direction. What would it be like if they were more than friends? How would it feel to have Mac stroking her with those rough-padded fingers all over?

  Savannah held herself very still, her hand against her pounding heart. When Mac had slid his leg between hers, she'd gotten this strange feeling again, the same one she'd gotten when he kissed her both times. As if ... as if she had a hundred butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

  She knew that Mac was taunting her, that she'd made him angry by tricking him into sharing her room. But what if he truly turned on that wicked charm she'd glimpsed earlier? Could she resist? Would she want to? Savannah gave her head a slight shake.

  "Something wrong?"

  Shivering as Mac's warm breath stirred the curls at her neck, Savannah shook her head again. “No. What could be wrong?” I'm just tingling all over, and I want you to kiss me like you did before—without an audience so I'll know it's real.

  But she couldn't say that to Mac. He'd be embarrassed at her brazen display, and right now she didn't want to give him a reason to leave before he helped her find Barlow. After they got her money back, then she might find it useful to scare Mac by letting him know how he affected her. She felt a stab of shame at the thought of deceiving him.

  Then she recalled his reasons for fetching her home; five thousand dollars. As if she were bounty to be hunted, instead of a flesh and blood person with feelings. If Mac could be so callous, then why couldn't she?

  Money. Savannah's lips twisted in bitter remembrance. She was beginning to hate wealth and the hurt it could cause. She believed Jon Paul DeMent truly loved her, until she'd overheard his boast that he would be richer than ever when he married her. Her daddy hadn't believed her when she told him what Jon Paul had said. He'd accused her of making excuses not to marry, and had insisted she go ahead with the wedding.

  Mac's fingers worked their way down her buttons, seeming to take a long time in their task. Savannah shifted restlessly. Just the thought of Mac doing something as intimate as unfastening her blouse caused a strange ache in her breasts. She glanced down, gasping at the sight of her puckered nipples through the fabric.

  "You're tense,” Mac whispered, his seductive voice sending a delicious shiver dancing along her spine.

  Tense? Oh, he had no idea how tense she was! Prudently, Savannah clasped her arms over her tell-tale breasts to hide her aroused state. “Just tired, is all."

  "Me too. I'm almost finished."

  And a good thing, too, because the curious ache had spread to her belly and was slowly seeping into her thighs. It was making her knees wobbly.

  "All done."

  For a shocking moment his big, warm hands slid into her open blouse and massaged her tense shoulders. He gave her back a friendly clap and stepped away.

  "I think I'll turn in now,” he announced as if nothing momentous had happened between them. Savannah couldn't help feeling disappointed. “Oh, when you order your bath in the morning, don't throw it out. I'll just use your water."

  Savannah, still prudently turned away from him, listened to his soft footsteps as he made his way to the sitting room. Her mouth was dry, and her mind numb with the image of Mac, naked and dripping wet, emerging from his bath.

  "Good night, Savannah, and sleep tight."

  It took a moment to form the words, and when she did they were betrayingly husky. “Good night, Mac.” Maybe he wouldn't notice, or put it down to weariness.

  When the sitting room door clicked shut, her knees gave way. She moved backward until she felt the bed against her legs. Lord have mercy! She thought. Could this be love? Could she be in love with ... Mac? Not that he wasn't gentle and kind, and handsome. Oh, yes, he was definitely handsome!

  But ... Mac? Mac was her friend. They'd known each other since childhood when Mac's father came to work for her father many years ago. And other than his admittedly admirable qualities, was he really any different from other men who couldn't be trusted? She'd heard her father brag on Mac on more than one occasion about how ambitious and hard working he was.

  Did she dare hope Mac could see her as someone other than a friend ... or the rich daughter of a rich banker?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Six

  "Mac ... do you truly think it's necessary to kiss me each time we pass someone?” Savannah asked, sounding flustered.

  They were strolling along Main Street enjoying the warm September day, doing a wonderful job of pretending to be in love. Only Mac wasn't pretending. He considered her question and decided to be honest. “I don't want people to think I'm insane."

  "Beg your pardon?"

  "For not kissing such a lovely wife at every opportunity."

  Savannah squeezed his arm and laughed. “If I didn't know better, I'd think you had taken lessons on flattery from Ned Barlow!"

  She could not have known, Mac told himself, how much her careless remark wounded him. “He said things like that to you?” he demanded, forgetting to hide his jealousy.

  "Not exactly ... and he never kissed me."

  Was that a wistful note in her voice? Mac wondered, struggling against an overwhelming urge to yank her against him and wipe Barlow from her memory once and for all. But there was no one watching at the moment to justify his actions ... dammit.

  "By the way, Mac, you did know that we're being followed?"

  Mac gave a start, resisting the urge to look behind him. Of course he had known, but how had Savannah known? She wasn't trained, as he was, in the art of following and being followed. “Probably one of the sheriff's deputies,” he lied, instinctively pulling her closer. He'd planned to confront the man, but in the past two days Savannah had insisted on dogging his every footstep. She hadn't been exaggerating when she said she didn't trust him.

  "He's not a deputy, at least not one that I recognize. Aren't you going to find out what he wants?” Savannah persisted.

  "No."

  "Why not? I'd be curiou
s to know—"

  "Which is why I'm the bounty hunter,” Mac said, then immediately regretted his words when she stiffened. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

  She sniffed. “No, I'm sure you didn't.” She didn't sound at all sure. “Imagine, little ole’ me, a bounty hunter! Why, I'm much too busy deciding what to wear to go chasing after mean ole’ outlaws!"

  "Stop it,” Mac growled. “I said I was sorry."

  "Of course, I could pay someone to do the job for me, I suppose, since I'm rich."

  "Savannah..."

  "You know Mac, that's not a bad idea. I could go into the bounty hunting business, hire a few men and just sit back in my office and pull in the money. Maybe you'd like to work for me?"

  Mac saw an opportunity to shut her up. Striding in their direction was Sheriff Porter. Hoping Savannah had yet to spot him, Mac pulled her against the wall of the feed store and gazed into her startled eyes. “God, Savannah, I want you so badly it hurts!” he announced passionately.

  "W-what?” she squeaked, glancing behind them. The board walk was deserted—if one could discount the constant shadow that quickly slipped into an alley.

  Before she could search the other direction, Mac turned her face back to his. “I want you. I want to take you back to the hotel and make mad, passionate love to you.” He lowered his voice to a husky whisper, nuzzling her ear. “Do you want me as much?” He slipped his hands over her bottom and pressed her hard against him, proving to her just how sincere he was.

  He felt her shudder. She curled her arms around his neck and pressed closer, sounding confused and breathless. “Mac—"

  "Looks like you two love birds need to mosey on back to the hotel,” Sheriff Porter said, startling a shriek from Savannah.

  She stepped slowly away from Mac, her face blazing. Before he realized her intent, she hauled off and slapped him hard enough to make his ears ring.

  When she had stomped out of ear shot, Mac rubbed his stinging jaw. He stared after her. “Can't seem to satisfy that woman,” he muttered with a rueful laugh.