The Secret Life Of Bryan. Lori Foster
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But she’d gotten over that with a vengeance, and now she kept it at bay with bossiness and a will of iron.
At least, that’s what her parents claimed.
Shivering, Shay attempted to smooth her windblown hair, then walked out to meet him halfway. The second she left the protection of the rough-brick building, the rain soaked through to her bones.
At her approach, his step faltered, and when the neon lights flashed again, she finally saw his eyes. They were such a dark brown as to look almost black. They were narrowed and direct, scrutinizing her from head to toe in a most disturbing way. Their gazes met, and momentary confusion gripped her.
Shay stopped, staring back, breathless and uncertain. Again, his gaze dropped, skimming down the length of her body as she stood in a pool of reddish light, getting more sodden with every gust of wind.
When he looked up again, he seemed almost…angry. But why? Hadn’t he wanted her to greet him?
Intent on asking him, she scowled and again started forward. She didn’t get a chance to move far before a deafening crack rattled the air and a blinding burst of electrical light seared the dark night, lingering, sizzling in ominous threat until one entire side of the street—her side—fell into utter blackness. Shay knew the lightning must have struck a transformer. The darkness was absolute, the lights from across the street not quite penetrating so far, making it impossible to see, making her more aware of the noises around her, more aware of the man approaching the shadows with her.
The sounds of people leaving the many bars, the hush of excitement as darkness gave leave to wicked possibilities, was nearly drowned out by the raw severity of the storm. Shay turned to look behind her. She couldn’t see them, but the hushed rumblings of curiosity told her that men now hovered in the doorways.
Uh-oh.
Safe within a building was not the same as being outside in a violent storm during a blackout. Her skin prickled with dread. Because she hadn’t lost all common sense, she knew the situation could turn lethal. Crossing the street into the light became a priority, but as she jerked about to do just that, she managed only one step before she slammed into a solid wall of warm, unforgiving muscle.
Large, hard hands closed around her upper arms and held her steady when she would have staggered back. Her own hands lifted to brace against a wide chest. Muscles leaped beneath her fingertips, further immobilizing her.
A voice, so close she felt the warmth of breath and smelled the clean scent of damp male skin, whispered into her ear. “It’s not safe here. Come with me. Now.”
Wow. Not a question, but a command, and a very tempting one—if she was an idiot. Even before she lifted her gaze, her heart tripping with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, she knew it was him.
Across the street, one of the bars turned on floodlights, probably in the hope of scaring away looters. The illumination fanned out over the wet pavement and filtered onto the opposite sidewalk, providing a soft glow. Through the stinging rain, Shay stared at the man, able to make out his features for the first time. And Lord, was he incredible.
This close, she could see the golden specks in his dark eyes, and his thick, almost feminine lashes. Combined, they should have softened his features, but didn’t. He was too intense to be softened in any way.
Dark brows lowered in an expression of grim resolve. His cheekbones were high, his jaw lean with an edge of hardness. Tall, broad shouldered, clean and very commanding, he made a direct counterpoint to most of the men she’d seen in the area, men who skulked about, their postures either humbled or belligerent.
This man was enough to make a woman swoon—if she were the type inclined to such things. But Shay had no intention of closing her eyes for a single instant. He might very well disappear if she did.
His hands still held her arms, his grip firm but not restrictive. And he stood mere inches away, blocking part of the rain with his body. It was that proximity that stifled her usually outspoken manner.
Then another man appeared at her side and said in whining tones, “Aw, Preacher, you sure you want this one? She looks damn fine standing there, soaked to the skin, tall and snobbish.”
Shay stared at the little man in appalled fascination. He was wiry, about five-feet-five inches tall, and looked like a geek, complete with black framed glasses, an old-fashioned haircut parted on the side, and a white short-sleeved dress shirt with the top button undone. As he stared at her, looking her over in a sleazy, stomach-turning way, Shay saw the rainwater bead on his lenses.
He swiped it away and all but drooled at her. “Real wet,” he breathed.
There were too many possible connotations to what he said, so Shay concentrated on the one she did understand, trying to brazen out the situation, trying to maintain some aspect of control. Glaring, she said, “I may be tall, and I’m as soaked as everyone else, but I am never snobbish.”
Both men stared at her.
Shay prided herself on being open and friendly and approachable. That openness was the trick of her trade, what made her so successful in her efforts. Then something else the little man said hit her, and she stared back at the dark-eyed stranger.
Stunned, she managed to squeak out, “Preacher?”
He didn’t answer her, but instead ordered, “Get lost, Chili. Take your money home to your wife for a change.” He hadn’t looked away from Shay when he spoke. Evidently, he didn’t need to.
Whining, Chili accepted his dismissal and faded back into the shadows.
“Well.” Shay cleared her throat. “That was impressive. I gather you’re used to giving orders?”
Instead of answering, he scrutinized her. “I haven’t seen you here before.” His tone was low. Familiar. “So maybe you don’t know how dangerous this particular corner is to work.”
Shay cocked a brow. She knew. Hadn’t she just saved Leigh from working this corner? But…surely he didn’t mean what she thought he meant, at least in reference to her.
“On a night like this,” he continued, “men are more interested in raising hell than paying you for service. Come on. I’ll get you out of the damned rain.”
Her jaw loosened and her brows came down. He did. He thought she was a prostitute. Shay shook her head, but there was no denying his words. This positively gorgeous man with a voice that rubbed rough and raw up her spine and eyes that seemed to see to her soul thought she was a lady of the night. A hooker. A streetwalker.
No matter what term she used, it sounded the same.
But she didn’t think he meant to be insulting. In fact, she wasn’t altogether sure what he meant. “Are you offering to buy my services for the night?” If he said yes, she’d probably deck him, gorgeous eyes or not. But if he said no, then where did that leave her?
With a growl and a low, muttered curse, he shrugged out of his jacket. “Put this on.”
My, my, he was full of orders. “Why? Then you’ll just get wet.”
His gaze flicked over her body once more, quickly. He looked out over the surrounding area while leaning close, his nose nearly touching her hair. “You look more naked than not.” His voice was strained, annoyed. Deep and raw. “Believe me, the men here won’t wait for you to name a price before they take what they want. You’re wasting your time, and you could get hurt. Take the damn jacket and come with me.”
Shay blinked rapidly, thankful now for the darkness and the fact that she had her back to everyone—except the preacher. The floodlights would be against her front, leaving her visible to his view. The snowy whiteness of her dress served as a beacon in the darkness. She folded her arms over her chest and started to look down, but he caught her chin on the edge of his fist.
“Put…the jacket…on.” His expression was fierce, his tone abrupt. When she nodded, he held it out and she slipped her arms into the sleeves, rearranging the