Page 28 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

I like this guy.He’s interesting.Quiet, but funny.Smart.And unless I’ve got this totally wrong, he’s a nice dude—aside from the whole trying to scare me away thing.

The hot rancher could have just had the cops drag me off this mountain, but instead, he brought me warm clothes, cat food, and firewood.Who goes around being kind to strangers like that?Who does that kind of hero shit?

Heroes do, I guess.

And I have no idea how to deal with one of those.Dad was the closest I ever got to a real-life hero, until now.

I usually attract the exact opposite flavor of trouble.I’m more accustomed to evil men who twist the truth and get off on holding power over others.Small men with loud mouths.The kind who hurt others to convince the world—and themselves—that they’re a big fucking deal.

Sitting across from me right now is a huge man with a small smile.A larger-than-life cowboy Navy SEAL who doesn’t say more than what is absolutely necessary to get the point across.A man who’s willing to let a little cat curl up on his big lap.

So.

Much.

Trouble.

MacLaine’s watching me.

“You good?”he asks.

I nod.“Fine.”

He shifts his weight on the log, careful not to jostle Pussy.He’s probably uncomfortable perched there, but it’s not like I can offer him a chair or anything.I pretend to look around at the trees so that I can stifle a laugh.Pussy is hilarious.She’s totally content on MacLaine’s lap.They make quite the pair.

And it’s a complete shock.

Becauseholy shitdoes that cat ever hate men.

I’ve often thought that it must have been a man who threw her in the dumpster the night I found her.She gravitates to females and is a defensive mess around males, even innocent ones like the UPS delivery guy.

Pussy loathes Niko .She hates him to the point that he stayed at my place one night and one night only.It was the night Pussy scratched his bare arms and hissed at him.Then she cornered him in the laundry room, baring her fangs as hair spiked up along her spine.

Smart girl.

Smarter than me, apparently.

But she sure likes my friendly neighborhood cowboy, doesn’t she?

Don’t be stupid, Frankie.MacLaine’s not your anything.He’ll go his way, and I’ll go mine.

Wherever that might be.

“You need to stop bringing me shit I didn’t ask for,” I tell him.“Stop visiting me here.Period.End of story.No more.”

He glances up at me, poker face returned.Even if MacLaine’s not a bad dude, he’s still bad news.I can’t pretend I’m not seeing what I’m seeing.He’s too damn good-looking, with those dark blond curls and ethereal eyes.I love sex and always have.And I’m thinking about the outrageous possibilities of sex with this man in particular.

What those massive arms would feel like around me.How he could toss me around like a cat toy in bed.And those arms and chest and legs aren’t the steroid-popping bodybuilder kind, either.He’s not gym-bro musclebound.He’s just made this way.

Perfect.

I wonder what he looks like naked.I bet it’s off-the-chain incredible.

I snap out of my reverie to find him focused on me again.Will miracles never cease?I swear there’s a divot forming between his eyebrows.He must have removed his cowboy hat while I was fantasizing about what he looks like naked because I suddenly see the hat’s balanced on the log at his side.

Kevin MacLaine’s hair is thick, curly, and parted a little off to the side, courtesy of a cowlick.And calling it dark blond doesn’t do it justice.It falls in coils that range from sun-lightened streaks of yellow to a light golden brown.It tumbles softly along his head and is tucked carelessly behind his ears.The ends of those curls graze the top of his flannel shirt collar.

His nose is slightly crooked.I wonder how many times it’s been broken.His mouth is wide, and his lips are full.His chin is square and masculine.