She managed a smile in return. She wouldn’t have thought he could be sweet. “Thanks for checking the house.”
“No problem. You sure you’ll be okay?”
Her smile returned, more real this time. “You’re bigger than I am, but I’ve got the gun.” Now resting on the kitchen table.
He chuckled. “All right, if you’re sure, I’ll see you in the morning.”
He’d see her in the morning?Dammit, she’d forgotten he was coming to the office tomorrow for the call to his private investigator. “Good night.”
Cain left the house through the garage, swung a long leg over the seat of his Harley, and fired up the engine. The biceps in his huge arms bulged as he grabbed the handlebars. Carly pushed the button on the garage door as he started backing away, turned the bike, and roared off down the block.
Exhaustion swamped her. Dragging herself into the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, pulled on an XXL navy blue Drake Trucking T-shirt she liked to sleep in, and crawled beneath the covers. The pistol rested on the nightstand. She should have been able to sleep.
But she couldn’t.
* * *
Linc got up Sunday morning at the crack of dawn, loaded his fishing gear onto the back of an ATV, and took off to one of the two lakes on Blackland Ranch. He’d called Townsend way too late last night and toldhim what had happened at the roadhouse. He’d instructed the investigator to set up security on Carly Drake twenty-four/seven and find out everything he could about a guy who called himself El Jefe.
Linc had slept a little after that, not much. He’d awoken early and decided he needed to clear his head. Tossing a line in the water, kicking back, and waiting to get a bite worked almost as well as morning sex.
Well, not quite. Hell, he hadn’t been with a woman in nearly a month, too damned long as far as he was concerned. He needed to make a phone call, talk to Renee or maybe Melissa, see if one of hisfriends with benefitswas up for a good time when he got back to Dallas.
Something stirred deep and hot inside him, made him begin to get hard. Unfortunately it wasn’t an image of Renee or Melissa. It was Carly Drake who fired his blood.
As he leaned back against the trunk of a tree, the end of his line jerked. He waited for another tug, set the hook, and started reeling. Dammit to hell, whenever he thought of Carly, he felt like the fish on the end of that line. How had the little blonde managed to sink her hooks into him? How had she managed to snag his interest so quickly?
In fairness, she wasn’t even trying. He knew women, knew she was attracted to him. He also knew she wasn’t interested in climbing into bed for a couple of nights of fun.
And after his disastrous marriage to Holly, he sure as hell wasn’t interested in anything more than that. If Joe Drake knew he was even thinking of taking Carly to bed, the old man would be spinning in his grave.
Linc reeled in his catch and swung the line toward shore. He grabbed the fish, unfastened the hook, and stuck the big silver bass in his creel.
“You’re supper, buddy. Fried nice and golden brown.” The real thing, not some fancy chef’s version.
Not that he didn’t like gourmet food. Over the years, he’d developed expensive tastes, but part of him still loved down-home Southern cooking and every once in a while, he indulged himself by cooking a meal for himself.
He checked his heavy stainless wristwatch. Just enough time to clean the fish, shower, and head for Drake Trucking and his meeting withCarly. As her image arose, heat sank low in his groin. He was famous for his self-control. In the next few days, he was going to need every ounce of it.
* * *
Carly leaned back in the chair behind her desk. The big white clock on the wall said nine forty-five. Lincoln Cain was due at ten for the conference call with his private investigator. Carly had spent all morning doing her best not to think of him, trying not to remember how Cain had looked charging across the parking lot to rescue her.
A big, tall, powerful figure in snug black leather, fists clenched, jaw iron hard. There’d been murder in those gold-flecked eyes, the threat of mortal danger. He’d been in prison. One thing she now knew. Cain was as tough as he looked.
She thought of the men who’d attacked her, remembered the feel of the blade against her throat, the rush of fear. In her mind, she could hear the shots, remember the terror when she’d thought Cain had been injured or killed.
God, she couldn’t already have feelings for him. In a far different way, he posed as much danger to her as the men who’d attacked her.
She remembered the weight of his hard body on top of her, pressing her down, protecting her. Her breath quickened and her skin flushed with heat. She couldn’t remember ever being so physically attracted to a man. And every time she was around him, it seemed to get worse.
Thank God tomorrow was Monday. Cain would be returning to Dallas. With any luck, he’d be too busy to come back to Iron Springs next weekend or anytime in the near future.
Donna knocked at the door, the signal he’d arrived. The door opened. “Mr. Cain is here.”
“Thanks, Donna.” She steeled herself for the impact of seeing him, watched him walk into the room with that confident swagger, saw the heat in those bold green eyes.
She pasted on a smile. “Good morning, Linc.”
