Linc slammed it closed. “I’m staying. I have to be back in Dallas in the morning. Tonight I’m staying right here.”
She jammed her hands on her hips. “Damn you, I can’t do this! Not tonight!” Her eyes welled. “Don’t you understand? I can’t have you here, not after what happened!”
He reached out and caught her shoulders. “You said he didn’t hurt you. You said—”
“He didn’t hurt me! He just scared the hell out of me! I’m still scared! That’s why I need you to leave!”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
A sob escaped. She turned away from him and walked into the kitchen, her eyes glazed with tears. She felt him come up behind her, ease her back against his chest. She wanted to turn around and just burrow into him, feel those big hard arms go around her, hear him tell her she was safe.
“What is it?” Linc asked softly. “Tell me.”
She turned and looked up at him, wiped tears from her cheeks. “You’reso strong, so damned big and capable. Whenever you’re around, I turn into a helpless, crying female. I just want to hand all my troubles over to you and let you take care of them, take care of me. I hate myself for it. I won’t be that person. I’ve worked too hard learning to take care of myself.”
“I’ve got broad shoulders, Carly. Taking a little of the weight off yours doesn’t bother me.”
“It bothers me, Linc! I don’t want to be dependent on you or anyone else!”
His jaw hardened. “Unless you’re willing to call the sheriff and have me thrown out, I’m staying. Tomorrow I’m setting up a protection detail—a real one this time. You’ll have a bodyguard twenty-four/seven. I promised your grandfather. I won’t break my word.”
Frustration rolled through her, along with a shot of temper. Her hand flew back. She took a swing at his too-handsome face, but it never connected. Instead, he caught her wrist and didn’t let go. The heat of his fingers, the calluses she didn’t expect to feel, made her nipples tighten. He was so close, she could see the gold around the pupils in his eyes.
His nostrils flared. His eyes locked with hers and her breathing went ragged. She wanted to kiss him even more than she wanted to hit him.
He drew her closer, until their bodies were touching full length. Her breath caught at the feel of the hard ridge beneath his zipper, the knowledge that he was as fiercely aroused as she.
“We . . . we can’t do this,” she whispered.
For several long moments they just stood there staring at each other, both of them breathing too fast. Then Linc let her go and stepped back out of her space.
“Go take your shower,” he said softly. “Get out of those wet clothes and get warmed up. Tonight I’ll sleep on the sofa. Tomorrow we’ll work this out, find a way to compromise, okay?”
She swallowed. Her lip throbbed; her body hurt all over. She felt like crying again.
He reached up and touched her cheek. “We’ll talk things over, come up with a solution. You can trust me to make this right, Carly.”
She finally nodded. Turning away, she started down the hall. He was Lincoln Cain. He’d made a fortune at the bargaining table. He knew how to handle people, knew how to get whatever he wanted. He knew she was attracted to him. He could use that attraction to manipulate her, bend her to his will.
And yet she trusted him. Aside from Grandpa Joe, more than any man she had ever known.
Carly thought of him in her living room, six-foot-five-inches, two hundred plus pounds of pure male muscle watching over her.
No matter what she’d told him, it was good to feel that at least for tonight she was safe.
* * *
Linc punched the uncomfortable pillow he’d found in the hall closet and stuffed it beneath his head. He was too long for the sofa, which was old and lumpy at best. Sometime during the night, he’d heard soft footsteps, realized it was Carly bringing him a blanket, draping it over him while she thought he was asleep.
He’d caught a few hours off and on, not enough. At least there hadn’t been any more trouble.
He thought about what she’d said, that she refused to be the person who needed someone to take care of her, that she’d worked too hard learning to take care of herself.
He knew her story, that her mother had been a junkie who had died of an overdose when Carly was ten. Joe had taken her in and raised her. Both his daughters had been fragile women, unable to cope with life, Joe had said. According to Joe, both were now dead.
Joe had taught Carly to be self-reliant, to make her way in the world without him—or anyone else.
Linc smiled darkly. When it came to El Jefe, Joe’s careful planning had backfired. Carly needed help but she was determined not to take it.
