Slow Dancing With a Texan. Linda Conrad
Although the cheap motel bedspread and the spot-stained gold carpeting left a lot to be desired, she couldn’t imagine what he wanted to keep her from seeing.
“Just close your eyes and be quiet a minute,” he replied. “Before we do anything else, I’ve got to remove a few tiny bits of glass that have fallen onto your eyelashes.”
“Oh.” Closing her lids carefully, she decided to quit fighting and let him do what he needed to do.
Sloan opened the first-aid kit he’d taken from the back of his pickup. He ripped apart the packaging on the cotton sheeting and used it to gently pick a few slivers that had shattered onto her face and neck. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice her soft, milky complexion.
Working close, he was fascinated by a faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. In his mind those slight imperfections only made her more interesting.
Trying to concentrate on the glass, he gently swiped the cotton across her thick eyelashes. Without warning, the urge to kiss the tender skin on her closed lids made him nervous and hesitant to touch her again.
He wanted to watch while she opened her eyes, focusing on his face. Sure that he would find passion in that gaze, he could already taste his growing need.
Sloan barely remembered the last time a woman affected him this way. It had been months since he’d even bothered with a date. Women just weren’t a big priority in his life. Never had been. Until now.
He gritted his teeth and kept on working. When he ran the cotton over her hair, he noticed that the blood there and on her clothes had dried. If she’d been bleeding once, the flow had stopped.
Knowing she didn’t need an emergency room helped to calm him down. But then he suddenly found himself fighting off the desire to dig his fingers through luscious, intense-red strands of hair. He gritted his teeth and carefully brushed the glass away instead.
“That’s the best I can do,” he said at last. “Do you want help getting out of your clothes?”
“Excuse me?” Her hot-green eyes popped open.
Oh, man. He desperately tried to find something else to concentrate on until he could stop imagining her naked.
“You have to get out of those things so we can check you over for cuts,” he finally directed.
“I think I can handle it, thank you,” she told him with a wry smile. “But first I need to make a phone call, if you don’t mind.”
“No calls.” He went to the phone, ripped the cord from both the wall and the phone itself and stuffed the wiring into the pocket of his heavy jacket.
“Hey!” She started toward him with a murderous look in her eyes. “What’d you do that for?”
“Who do you need to call, Lainie? A boyfriend?” That wasn’t what he’d meant to ask, he chided himself. What business of his was it if she had a boyfriend?
“No. I don’t have a boyfriend. I stay too busy for such things.” She made a sudden move to grab his arm. “It’s my sister. I have to know if Suzy is all right.” A horrified look spread across her face. “I’ve just realized…if this isn’t my blood, it must be hers. I never should’ve left her there.”
“You didn’t leave her. I took you. The shooting was directed at you, not her. With all the madhouse there, the only way to make sure no one else caught another bullet meant for you was to remove you from the scene.”
Once more he searched his pockets for the mobile phone. “Take a shower and check for any nicks that might need attention. I’m going outside to phone the captain again, let him know you’re not in any immediate danger. I’ll ask about your sister.”
Then, without really knowing why it seemed so important, Sloan searched for a way to take the fearful expression from her face and to calm the near-hysterical sound of her voice.
“Why the hell didn’t you stay in your office and wait for me like you were told?” he asked with a pretend snarl. “Anyone with half a brain would know not to stand out in the open and in such a public place while they were being stalked and threatened.”
That remark seemed to do what he’d intended. Instead of fear, anger sparked across Lainie’s features.
She narrowed darkened emerald eyes at him and propped her hands on her hips. “So I should’ve cowered in my office, waiting for some big-shouldered man to come save me? Is that what you’re saying?”
He’d hoped she had a temper, and it sure looked like he’d been right. The red hair was a dead giveaway.
“Look, lady. From now until we catch the guy, you will do exactly as I say. No more waltzing around in plain view. I’m here to see to it you stay alive.” He waited for the fire to reach her eyes again. “Now be a good girl and get those clothes off.”
She took a menacing step in his direction and clenched her fists. The lights in her eyes were stunning, and for just a moment he was paralyzed with need. He should have thought of what this diversion might do to him.
Instead of hanging around, though, Sloan made a strategic retreat from the motel room. He was out of there quicker than a brushfire could burn through a parched field. And he didn’t take another breath until he was in the parking lot and away from the temptation of all that passionate heat.
Not once in his entire career had he considered that he might become anyone’s bodyguard. In fact, he wouldn’t be doing it now except that the man he most respected in the world had asked him as a personal favor. He should be out of state, fulfilling a deathbed wish with this leave of absence from the Rangers—not baby-sitting a fiery, hot-tempered woman.
Sloan fought his reaction to the flaming lust Lainie’s anger had brought out in him. Gulping down the last remnants of desire, he swore under his breath.
The assignment to protect Lainie Gardner’s body might just turn out to be a lot more difficult than he’d ever imagined.
Two
Sick to her stomach and madder than all get-out, Lainie tossed a string of bad words toward the back of the motel room door as it closed behind Sloan. Being angry at him was the only way she could survive her conflicting emotions.
She hardly ever used curse words, however. And she had no idea where she’d learned a few of the ones she’d just thrown out. What was the matter with her?
Yes, she was scared beyond all reason, and near hysterical at the thought that her sister might be injured—or worse. But none of that accounted for the lust she’d felt as Sloan stood there with that teasing grin on his face. The flashes of heat and weakness his look created pushed pure old-fashioned desire trembling down her spine. The anger had actually turned her on.
She was mad again just thinking about it. How stupid could one supposedly smart woman be?
Her shakes started once more. She felt them move up her wobbly legs and spread across her body. Good grief.
Was her body betraying her need for Sloan? She prayed that her reaction to him was just some weird kind of delayed stress related to her crazy predicament.
Desperately wanting to regain the control and determination she’d become famous for, Lainie fought her own emotions. She was always in charge of every situation and this one should be no different. The danger was over. It was time to start thinking instead of feeling.
And all she could think of was the arousal in Sloan’s chestnut-colored eyes as he’d headed out the door? Oh dear Lord, help her. The stress must be driving her totally insane.
Lainie wasn’t the kind of woman who was normally disgusted by the thought of good healthy sex. Far from it. She’d had a couple of great experiences with that very thing in her checkered youth. But that was long ago. Besides that, she simply did not jump into bed with total strangers—not even ones who’d just saved