Wyoming Rugged. Diana Palmer
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raced up to the front steps of the grand Victorian mansion. “There aren’t any women left in the country who don’t sleep around these days, for God’s sake!”
“There are some. I’m one,” she said. “I agreed to go to dinner with you, Harvey. Only to dinner.”
He made an angry sound in his throat. He pulled up at her door. He studied her in the light from the front porch.
“Your old man home?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said without thinking. “He had a business meeting. But a friend of his is coming to stay with us for a few days. He should be here any minute.” It was a calculated lie. There was a friend, named Blair Coleman, who owned a multinational oil corporation. Niki had seen him infrequently when he came home with her father. In fact, she’d had a flaming crush on him since she was seventeen, but he treated her like a child. So Blair Coleman was coming to stay. She just wasn’t sure when. “I have to go in,” she added.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” he said. He even went around the car to open her door for her. There was a calculating look on his face, but Niki was too relieved to notice it. She’d unlock the door, go inside and she’d be free.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem,” he said, with an odd, smug little smile.
She put her key into the lock, noticing with a frown that it wasn’t needed. The door was unlocked. Maybe her father was home after all.
She turned to tell Harvey good-night and found herself pushed inside the house. He closed the door behind them.
“Now,” he said menacingly, “you frigid little tease! Girls who date me always give out. Always!”
He grabbed her and wrestled her into the living room, down onto the sofa.
Niki was frail from a hospital visit that had left her weak and breathless. Even though she wasn’t a tiny girl, she was slender, and she had no martial arts skills at all. Harvey was a football player, with the muscle that came with the game. He had her on her back on the sofa, her long blond hair fanned around her oval face with its delicate complexion and pale gray eyes. She was flushed from the illness, and breathless from the aftereffects of it. She did fight him, but she knew she’d never get away in time. He was trying to take something from her that should be her right to give. She was furious. Being helpless made her even more angry.
“Let go of me!” she raged. “You idiot! I am not going to let you...!”
“You can’t stop me,” he panted, ripping the bodice of her dress as he held her down with his formidable weight. “And there’s nobody home who can.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t bet good money on that,” a deep, gravelly voice mused from the doorway.
Niki glanced toward the voice. And there he was, larger than life. The reason she never dated. Blair Coleman.
Harvey was just tipsy enough not to realize how much trouble he was in. At least, not until a man the size of a wrestler jerked him off Niki by his collar and slammed him down onto the floor.
“You can’t do that to me! I play football! I’ll put you through the wall!” Harvey raged as he jumped to his feet and went for the big man.
There was a deep chuckle. Harvey’s rush was met with a fist the size of a ham. It inserted itself into Harvey’s diaphragm and sent him to his knees.
While he was trying to recuperate from that, the big man jerked him up by his collar, drew back his fist and knocked the younger man over the back of the sofa that a shocked Niki was still lying on.
“I’ll tell my dad!” the football star raged. “He’s got all sorts of lawyers.”
“I have a few of my own. Get your butt back here and apologize to this girl for what you tried to do,” he added in a voice like a grater.
“I...will not,” the boy faltered.
“Your choice. I don’t really mind involving the sheriff’s department.” He was pulling out his cell phone as he spoke.
“Nicolette, I’m very sorry,” the boy said at once, his face red as he stared at Niki.
She was on her feet by now, clutching her torn bodice together. Her pale eyes were blazing with outraged modesty. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be when I tell my father what you tried to do, Harvey,” she promised. “He has some good lawyers, too.”
“I was drunk!” Harvey exclaimed. He glared at her. “And you can read about yourself on my Facebook page,” he added with a sarcastic smile.
The big man moved closer. Harvey backed up a step.
“Let me give you some advice,” Blair said quietly. “Don’t think about getting even with her online. I’ll have my people checking, just in case. The first time I see anything posted about her, you’d better be on your way out of the country before any of my security people can find you. Are we clear?” he added, his stance as threatening as his deep voice.
“Y-yes. Very clear. Very.”
Blair jerked his head toward the door.
Harvey took the hint. He didn’t quite run for his car. But he got down the driveway in a hurry.
Niki got a better look at her rescuer when he came back from the window, making sure Harvey left.
He was dressed casually, but in designer slacks that clung to his broad, muscular thighs, and an expensive green knit shirt that outlined formidable muscles. He had a broad face with a big nose and a beautiful, wide, chiseled mouth. His complexion was olive. His hair was wavy and jet-black, with a few strands of silver. His eyes were large and black as jet. They were deep set, under thick eyebrows. His feet looked as oversize as his hands. He was very fit for a man his size. There wasn’t an ounce of fat showing anywhere on him. Niki had adored him from the day her father brought him home to visit, years ago. But since she’d been seventeen, there had been no man in her life at all. This one colored her dreams, made her ache for things she couldn’t quite grasp.
“Thanks,” Niki said in her soft voice. “I couldn’t stop him.” Her breathing was jerky and shallow.
He scowled. “You have asthma, don’t you?”
She nodded. “And I’m just getting over pneumonia.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Mr. Coleman.”
He smiled gently, and the fierce look left his face. “Just Blair,” he corrected. “It’s nice to see you again, Niki,” he added. “Well, I would have preferred different circumstances,” he amended as he looked at her.
She managed a breathy laugh. “Me, too. I’m just glad you were here when I got home.” She was still clutching her dress.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked gently.
“I don’t...think so.”
“Let’s see.” He drew her down on the couch and his big hands moved gently to the torn fabric. “None of that,” he chided when she flushed, mistaking her reaction for shyness when it was actually excitement at the touch of his fingers instead. “I’m way too old to make a pass at a girl your age. Besides, I’m engaged.”
“Oh.” Story of my life, she told herself, that the only man I’m even interested in thinks of me as a child. And he was getting married. She felt her heart break right in two. But she didn’t let it show. She relaxed her death grip on the fabric. “Sorry. I’ve had a bad night.”
“I noticed.” He drew the fabric away from her lacy little bra. But it wasn’t the undergarment he was looking at. It was the bruises on what he could see of her pretty little firm breasts just above the cup of the bra. She had beautiful little breasts. He clamped down hard on feelings he shouldn’t even entertain, especially now. There were more bruises on her thin shoulders. He winced.
“I wish I’d