At the sound, she spun toward him. And blinked.
“Tate?” She glanced up and down the street. “Go home.”
Angry? Good. He had every intention of summoning every hot emotion she had. After that escape from Rodeo Man in the garage, Tate wondered where in hell she could have gone and if she’d survived the Rodeo Man’s tail. Tate had called their corporate consultant for security and recounted the story of her attack. Grant Warwick had put a man on tracing calls to and from Anna’s phone. Grant ha also ordered a south Texas search to begin at seven a.m. sharp of local chop shops for a red Rodeo with rear-end damage.
Tate strode up to her, locked his car with a backward flick of his remote and examined her crumpled rear bumper as he passed. Interesting damage, he’d have to call Grant about in a few minutes after he determined if she was okay.
Tate zeroed in on her eyes. “I’m here to help.”
“I don’t want your help,” she seethed at him, but her enraged voice carried in a quiet residential area at two in the morning.
“Then don’t want it. What do I care?” Problem was, he cared too damn much to see her brush this off or brush him off without some kind of remedy for Rodeo Man. He took her elbow.
She tried to shake him off to no avail. “Oh, you can be so pushy.”
“Call it my training as a linebacker.” He led her toward her own front porch.
“How do you know where I live?” she asked, walking but petulant when she should be as grateful as hell he had the inclination to see she was safe.
“Got all the personnel records on my cell. Come on now,” he ordered her, as they climbed her front steps. “Invite me in for a midnight chat.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“Key to the door?” he asked, and put out his hand for her to hand it over “I’m tired. So are you and we both need a strong cup of coffee.”
“Coffee?” She fiddled with her keys. “No. I’ll be awake all night.”
“Brandy, then. Let’s get inside to argue, shall we?”
As she put the key in the lock, he could feel from his hold on her upper arm that the tension in her body was draining away. Even if she gave him a whole lot of lip about his commandeering her, her body knew some relief. That worked for him.
She got the key in, but her hand shook and he took it from her.
“Let me,” he said and swung the door wide, hauled her in after him and shut it soundly behind them. Then he threw the dead bolt.
With her in reach, he looked down at her. Her beautiful big green-brown eyes were hollowed with anxiety, her mouth firm but beginning to quiver.
The most natural thing in the world was to gather her close. Wrap her tightly against him and rub his palms down her back.
But he hesitated. He’d already broken one rule tonight. He’d borrowed her trouble. If he hauled her close, would he care, would he criticize himself that he had started something with her he couldn’t finish?
What the hell did rules matter at a time like this?
He stepped up to her, ran his fingers from her temples back into her wealth of waving hair and pulled her torso flush to his. She leaned back, her startled eyes searching his for intentions. But she grabbed him, clutching at his waist for support. His lips parted in wonder at the delicate bone structure beneath his hands, the gentle curve of her spine, the taut curve of her belly as he pressed her against him in a groaning culmination of two years of want. He shut his eyes. Yes. He’d done the right thing to come here. To hold her. To comfort her. To hell with what separated them. He didn’t have to be her lover to be her friend.
With a tiny cry, she pushed herself away and whirled around. Flinging her purse on her sofa, she marched away from him. Her hips round, her ass firm in the satin trousers, she stalked toward her kitchen.
He stood where he’d been left, panting for all the things he might have had if he’d been quicker. Bolder.
“You want brandy,” she barked at him from her kitchen. “Come and get it.”
He could hear her opening a bottle and pouring liquid into glasses.
As he walked around the dividing wall, she stuck a snifter in his hand. “Here. Drink up. The night is old.”
Tate took a sip, vaguely aware of the heat in the liquor, very aware of the flames in his body and the fire of her anger. “I’m not going away until you tell me what happened tonight.”
She savored her drink for a moment and met his gaze with her own proud one. “None of your affair.”
“You are my employee.” Wow, applause for the lame beginning, Ryder.
“That does not give you the right to demand answers from me about my private life.”
“Is it your private life?”
That made her frown. “Of course.”
“You’re sure?”
“Definitely,” she shot back.
“How?”
“Because…” She waved a hand. “Because.”
“You conduct your private life on the corporate cell phones?”
That made her stare at him for a long minute. “No.”
He looked down at the brandy and swirled it. “What kind of acquaintance hits you in the rear and then takes off like a bat out of hell?”
She stared at the floor. “I don’t know.”
“Your car is damaged.”
That brought her head up and her gaze once more to his. “Really?” She ran a hand back through her hair. “I should have guessed. But I didn’t even stop to look.”
“He hit you hard enough that he left a so-so impression of his license plate on your bumper.”
“Wow.” She scowled. “I wonder if we can find him.”
Her speculation on that set him back. Did she even want to find her attacker? “In the garage, I caught the first two digits of his plate. That should help. I’ve got Warwick on the case.”
“No! You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not? This happened to my employee in my condo building. And you’ll be telling all this info to your auto insurance company, surely.”
She took a drink of her brandy and didn’t have a comeback for that logic.
Tate flexed his jaw in frustration. “Your insurance company will search DMV records. A red Rodeo, late model, with Texas plates should be easy to find.”
“Sure. Easy.” She thought about that a second, wincing. “Thanks. What are the digits you saw?”
“E. R.” He took a swig of her very good brandy and wondered if she was even going to call her insurance company with the claim. “He rammed into you hard. Did you hit your head?”
“No. I had my seat belt on so it was more of a wobble than a jolt.”
“Good to know. But just in case, if you get a headache you should tell me.”
“I’ll check with a doctor.”
“Why do I not believe you?” he pressed her.
“Suit yourself.” She stepped around him toward the front door. “I’ll see you out.”
“No, you won’t.”
She looked up at him askance. “You think you’re staying?”
He pursed his mouth and nodded. “I do.”
Fury colored her cheeks pink. “Why?”
“Because you’ve had a shock. Because there’s a lot you are not telling me. And because I’d never forgive myself if you had a head injury from this, I left you now and tomorrow morning, you wound up dead.”
“Gee. You have an over-active imagination.” She set her glass on the counter with a thunk and poked her index finger into his sternum. “I do not have a head injury.”
He caught her hand, pressed it to his chest and shook his head. “Can’t know until twenty-four, maybe thirty hours after a thump.”
“But I’m telling you—”
“I’m telling you I know the wily ways of head injuries. Years of crashing into mountains of mountain men have taught me to be careful. Vigilant.”
“I’m telling you, Tate, I’m good.”
“I’m telling you, Anna, so am I.”
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That close to her with her lips parting, he had to fight to figure out what they fought over. His cock was very interested in all kinds of issues about her body, none of which had to do with head injuries. But at the moment he had more important things to do than make any advances. He had to save her. From herself.
“You’re very stubborn,” she told him on a breath of sound. “You shouldn’t be.”
“For your safety, color me stubborn.”
She tried to pull away. “Go home, Tate.”
He held on. “Why won’t you let me help?”
“I can manage myself. I always do whenever—” She caught her lower lip in her teeth and stared up at him.
Her slip had him catching her closer. “Whenever? Whenever what?”
Her beautiful mouth quivered as she sought words. “Leave, please, Tate.”
“Wait. Are you telling me this hit-and-run is not a one-time thing?”
She swallowed and shook her head.
Damn if he’d let her go. “Anna! No, you are talking to me!” He raised her chin with a finger. “Tell me. You can manage whenever what happens?”
Tears pooled in those big hazel eyes of hers. “Go home, Tate. Don’t ask about things that don’t concern you.”
He gathered her closer. So near now he could feel the rapid tattoo of her heart, the lush press of her breasts, and the curve of her stomach and thighs. “You concern me. You have for a long time, Anna.”
Her fingernails bit into his arms and her voice dug into his heart as she sank her head against his chest and moaned.
He cradled her to him, bent and picked her up to walk with her into her living room and sit down with her in his lap on her couch. For a long minute, he held her as she sobbed. Then she stilled. He fished a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and encouraged her to blow her nose. When she had and was once more quiet, she curled against him. Exhausted, she sighed and to his delight, she didn’t rush to get away from him. She considered their entwined hands for long minutes, then sat up.
“Please go home, Tate. That guy doesn’t know where I live. He can’t find me here.”
“How do you know that? How can you be sure?”
“Because I have no land line phone. No listing.”
“He found you at work. On our phone. At my condo. Why can’t he find you here, Anna? Whoever he is, he’s resourceful. He’ll dig. It’s not wise to assume that he’s without contacts and means.”
She stared into his eyes. “He can’t trace me here because I rent this house. The owner lives in Mexico.”
“But you get your electricity bill here. Your water bill. They have your name on them, don’t they?” She frowned at his logic, and he rushed on. “Anyone can pick them out of your mailbox. I’m worried for you, Anna. That guy was not playing games.”
She put her palm to his cheek. “You are sweet, Tate. But go home.”
“You need help. That guy was a meathead. A big sucker. And you are small.” He squeezed her hand. “Delicate. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She sniffed and shook her head. “And I don’t want anyone to hurt you!”
He couldn’t believe his good fortune that she cared about him. Couldn’t believe his outrage that she refused his care. “I’m a big boy, honey.”
She smiled tightly. “I’m able to take care of myself.”
“How? You’re gonna show him how to do Warrior Pose?”
“Not funny,” she scolded him. “I also know krav maga. Learned it years ago.”
That gave him a start. “Just for fun, huh? The most aggressive martial art for the little lady.”
“Don’t pursue this, Tate.”
“Why learn krav maga, Anna? Why?” he asked, shocked that his emotions were a mix of outrage and need, like a little boy who’d had within his grasp the one gift he needed for Christmas, yet saw it disappear from his hold.
“Because it’s good exercise.”
He smirked. “Wrong answer.”
“It’s the one you get.” She struggled up from his lap and walked toward her front door. Her hand on the knob, she spun to face him. “Good night.”
“Not that easy to turn me out, Anna. You’ll have to practice some of your moves on me. But let’s face it, no matter how strong you are, you’re no match for me.”
She gaped at him. “You’d actually bully your way into my life?”
“You gotta admit that beats Rodeo Man’s tactics. So yeah, I haven’t barged my way in so far. But after tonight? I’m considering it.” He folded his arms and threw her a smug smile.
“You can’t do this. I don’t have time for you. Or your pigheadedness.”
“Why? What’s your hurry?”
“None of your business.”
“I saw some goon attack you tonight. He could’ve hurt you. Put you in the hospital. But you drive like the wind and escaped him.” He shot to his feet and grabbed her by her wrists.
She strained to get away from him. “I’ll escape you, too.”
“Really?” He hauled her against him. “Where are you going?”
“What does it matter?”
“You matter to me.”
Shrugging, writhing, she looked him in the eye and said, “I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, hell, Tate. Stop this. You think you want me and you refrain from saying it, even hinting at it. For years, you’ve gone on like that. And it’s lovely and it’s damn complimentary, and heaven knows, if I could be free, I’d have answered the seduction in your eyes years ago with more than denial. But I am in trouble. And you don’t want to mess with me, Tate.”
Her words struck him. She knew he cared for her. She knew.
“You don’t want to get involved, Tate. You’re sweet. You’re kind. You’re a man I could care for my whole life long. But you don’t want to ruin your life and spend your time on me.”
The yearning for him in her words and the desperation in her tone wrenched his heart. He clamped her closer. For the first time in two years, he had proof that she wanted him and he couldn’t walk away.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and plunged one hand up into the wealth of her hair. “Anna, baby, I am involved. Like it or not. I have been for so damn long, I can’t remember when I didn’t want you. You tell me not to mess with you. But that’s all I want to do.”
He cupped her head and she gazed at him like he’d always dreamed she might. Like a woman who couldn’t get enough of him. “I want to mess with you all right. I want to mess with every little bit of you.”
Her eyes drifted closed. Her mouth fell open. Her expression grew blissful as an angel floating in his arms.
He knew surrender when he saw it. Ecstasy when he felt it.
And he gave her no chance to deny him. He kissed her.
With lips that savored, he pressed his mouth against hers. With a tongue that probed and danced with hers, he took her mouth and the sweet cavern inside. Making her his. He bent her backwards in his arms and sent his mouth across her cheeks, down her throat, to her generous, heaving cleavage.
Fierce with joy, he scooped her up again, pivoting to find the stairs to a bedroom. He climbed them, two at a time, she was so light, cuddled so close, her mouth on his throat, kissing him, her hands in his hair.
But he got to the top and paused in the hall. What the hell was wrong with him?
He shut his eyes. Grit his teeth. Never in his life had he wanted a woman more. But he couldn’t think with his dick! Not here. Not now.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked, surveying three doors.
She nodded toward the left. He shouldered it open and in the dim light, the blues and grays of her décor seemed too cold for the serene woman he perceived her to be. He set her down on her comforter, crawling up to kiss her again. Mindless is where he wanted her, crazy for his touch, and he was going to keep her that way for long days and nights. He just couldn’t begin this minute.
He drew away. Stood. Found her dresser. Yanked
open a drawer.
She rose on her elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Get a suitcase. We’re leaving.”
“I can’t go anywhere with you.”
“Of course, you can. In fact, I’m your best ticket out of this mess.”
She scrambled to her feet, pressed flush against him and cupped his nape. “Sweetie, listen to me. I won’t see you hurt. Not protecting me. You’re wonderful and I want you. Wish I could have you like any other woman but—”
She wanted him? That cinched it.
He wrapped her tightly to him. “Well, then, hear this. You and I are going to have each other like any other couple who can’t take their hands off each other.”
“Tate—”
He slanted a finger over her soft lips. “We’re going to make love so hard and so well for so long you won’t know how to spell your name. But we’re not doing it now. We’re not doing it here. And we are definitely not doing it at my place where Rodeo Man may revisit. You are coming with me to Mexico tomorrow morning on the yacht. So get a bag, and let’s get some clothes for you. You aren’t going to need many, if I have my say. But do it.” He reached in her drawer and held up a handful of bras and lacy stuff. “Now.”
Chapter Three
When she awoke in the master stateroom on Tate’s yacht hours later, she rose on an elbow but sank back. She was woozy from having fallen asleep at dawn. She stretched, realizing she was naked and recalling how she had stripped herself of her evening clothes and fallen into this bed like a shipwrecked sailor.
Throwing back the light covers now, she let the warm Gulf air of late June wash over her breasts and belly and thighs. She tingled at the remembrance of how Tate had promised her so many things last night. Among them was the opportunity to make love to him. She delighted at the thought. The indulgence of desiring him was so scintillating that it was a balm to her fears about the guy in the Rodeo.
Tall, Hard and Trouble Page 2