Secrets and Desire: Best-Kept Lies / Miss Pruitt's Private Life / Secrets, Lies...and Passion. Barbara McCauley
Читать онлайн книгу.
didn’t need was anyone dogging her, bothering her and generally getting in the way. She was a private person by nature and opposed anyone nosing into her business, no matter what his reasons. Reining in her temper, she yanked open the door. Sure as shootin’, Kurt Striker, all six feet two inches of pure male determination, was standing on her doorstep. His light brown hair had darkened from the raindrops clinging to it, and his green eyes were hard. Wearing an aging bomber jacket and even older jeans, he was sexy as hell and, from the looks of him, not any happier at being on her stoop than she was to find him there.
“What’s with ringing the bell?” she asked, deciding not to mask her irritation. “I thought you had your own key, or a pick, or something. Compliments of my brothers.”
“They’re only looking out for you.”
“They should mind their own business.”
“And for your kid.”
“I know.” She’d already stepped away from the door and into the living room. Striker was on her heels. She heard the door slam behind him, the lock engage and the sound of his boots ringing on her hardwood floors.
“Look, Randi,” he said as she stopped at the closet and found her raincoat. “If I can break in, then—”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m way ahead of you.” She slid her arms through the sleeves and glanced up at him. “I’ll change the locks, put on a dead bolt, okay?”
“Along with putting in an alarm system and buying a guard dog.”
“Hey—I’ve got a baby. Remember?” She walked to the couch, found her purse and grabbed it. Now…the computer. Quickly she tucked her laptop into its case. “I don’t think an attack dog would be a good idea.”
“Not an attack dog—a guard dog. There’s a big difference.”
“If you say so. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go to the office.” She anticipated what he was about to say. “Look, it wouldn’t be a good idea to follow me, you know? I’m already in enough hot water with my boss as it is.” She didn’t wait for him to answer, just walked back to the door. “So, if you’ll excuse me—” She opened the door again in an unspoken invitation.
His lips twisted into a poor imitation of a smile. “You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”
“Why? Because of the money?” she asked, surprised that the mention of it bothered her, cut into her soul. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? My brothers have paid you to watch over me, right? You’re supposed to be…oh, hell…not my bodyguard. Tell me Thorne and Matt and Slade aren’t so archaic, so controlling, so damn stupid as to think I need a personal bodyguard… Oh, God, that’s it, isn’t it?” She would have laughed if she hadn’t been so furious. “This has got to end. I need privacy. I need space. I need—”
His hand snaked out, and fast as lightning, he grabbed her wrist, his fingers a quick, hard manacle. “What you need is to be less selfish,” he finished for her. He was so close that she felt his hot, angry breath wafting across her face. “We’ve been through this before. Quit thinking about your damn independence and consider your kid’s safety. Along with your own.” He dropped her arm as suddenly as he’d picked it up. “Let’s go. I won’t get in the way.”
The smile he cast over his shoulder was wicked enough to take her breath away. “Promise.”
Five
“Don’t even think about riding with me,” she warned, flipping the hood of her jacket over her hair as she dashed toward her Jeep. The rain had softened to a thick drizzle, a kind of mist that made visibility next to nil. It was early evening, the sky dark with heavy clouds.
“It would make things a helluva lot easier.”
Obviously, Striker wasn’t taking a hint. Collar turned up, he kept with her as she reached the car.
“For whom?” She shot him a look and clicked on her keyless remote. The Jeep beeped and its interior lights flicked on.
“Both of us.”
“I don’t think so.” She climbed into her car and immediately locked her doors. He didn’t move. Just stood by the Jeep. As if she would change her mind. She switched on the ignition as she tossed off her hood. Then, leaving Striker standing in the rain, she backed out of her parking spot, threw the Jeep into Drive and cruised out of the lot. In the rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of him running toward his truck, but not before she managed to merge into the traffic heading toward the heart of the city. She couldn’t help but glance in her mirrors, checking to see if Striker had followed.
Not that she doubted it for a minute. But she didn’t see his truck and reminded herself to pay attention to traffic and the red taillights glowing through the rain. She couldn’t let her mind wander to the man, not even if she had acted like a fool last night.
She’d let him kiss her, let him slide her nightgown off her body, felt his lips, hot and hard, against the hollow of her throat and the slope of her shoulder. She shouldn’t have done it, known it was a mistake, but her body had been a traitor and as his rough fingers had scaled her ribs and his beard-rough face had rubbed her skin, she’d let herself go, kissed him feverishly.
She’d been surprised at how much she’d wanted him, how passionately she’d kissed him, scraped off his clothes, ran her own anxious fingers down his hard, sinewy shoulders to catch in his thick chest hair.
The fire had hissed quietly, red embers glowing, illuminating the room to a warm orange. Her breathing had been furious, her heart rocketing, desire curling deep inside her. She’d wanted him to touch her, shivered when his tongue brushed her nipples, bitten her bottom lip as his hot breath had caressed her abdomen and legs. She’d opened to him easily as his hands had explored and touched. Her mind had spun in utter abandon and she’d wanted him… Oh, God, she’d wanted him as she’d never wanted another man.
Which had been foolish…but as he’d kissed her intimately and slid the length of his body against her, she’d lost all control. All her hard-fought willpower…
She nearly missed her exit as she thought about him and the magic of the night, the lovemaking that had caused her to steal away early in the morning, before dawn. As if she’d been ashamed.
Now she wended her way off I-5 and down the steep streets leading to the waterfront. Through the tall, rain-drenched buildings was a view of the gray waters of Eliot Bay—restless and dark, mirroring her own uneasy feelings. She pulled the Jeep into the newspaper’s parking lot, grabbed her laptop and briefcase and faced a life that she’d left months before.
The offices of the Seattle Clarion were housed on the fifth floor of what had originally been a hotel. The hundred-year-old building was faced in red brick and had been updated, renovated and cut into offices.
Inside, Randi punched the elevator button. She was alone, rainwater dripping from her jacket as the ancient car clamored upward. It stopped twice, picking up passengers before landing on the fifth floor, the doors opening to a short hallway and the etched-glass doors of the newspaper offices. Shawn-Tay, the receptionist, looked up and nearly came unglued when she recognized Randi.
“For the love of God, look at you!” she said, shooting to her feet and disconnecting her headset in one swift movement. Model tall, with bronze skin and dark eyes, she whipped around her desk and hugged Randi as if she’d never stop. “What the devil’s got into you? Never callin’ in. I was worried sick about you. Heard about the accident and…” She held Randi at arm’s length. “Where’s that baby of yours? How dare you come in here without him?” She cocked her head at an angle. “The hair works, but you’ve lost too much weight.”
“I’ll work on that.”
“Now, about the baby?” Shawn-Tay’s eyebrows elevated as the phone began to ring. “Oh, damn. I gotta get that, but you come back up here and tell me what the hell’s been going on with you.” She rounded the desk