For the Love of Sin. Leanne Banks
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frowned. “Lisa sent you.”
Troy shrugged. No use denying it.
“She shouldn’t have.”
“She was worried.”
“There’s no need. I’m fine. I—”
He grinned. “What am I gonna have to do to get that beer?”
Senada stopped and took a deep breath. She wanted to club him. Lord help her, the last thing she needed was one of the Pendleton brothers planting his size-12 feet into her life. “This way,” she said tersely, and headed for the bar.
“Interesting place you’ve got here,” Troy said.
“I don’t own it. I manage it.” She motioned for the bartender. “Rico, please give this man a beer.”
“On the house?” Troy asked, needling her a little to gauge her reaction, as he leaned against the bar.
Senada paused in the act of pouring herself a glass of water and looked at him sideways. “Consider it one for the road.”
Troy laughed. Maybe this was the change he needed after all. He leaned closer, matching her haughty expression with a steady gaze. “Darlin’, my return flight’s not booked. I’m here for the duration.”
Impatience gnawed at Senada, and she seriously considered throwing the water in his handsome face. It took all her effort, but she stifled the urge. “Then make the duration short. There’s no need for you to stay on my account.”
“There is a need.” He took a long swallow of beer. “I need to know why you left Chattanooga, and—”
She pushed her hand through her hair. “I told you. I needed a change.”
Troy shook his head in disbelief. “Here? You would deliberately choose to leave a thriving upscale catering business for this?”
“My mother is from this area,” Senada said, and took another sip of her water.
“Are you living with her?”
Senada didn’t know why she felt compelled to answer his questions, except she knew that if she didn’t give him some excuse, he would never leave her alone. “No, I’m not living with her.”
“Is she sick?”
“No,” she said quickly, feeling the familiar pinch of loss. “She’s dead.”
Troy paused a half beat. “When?”
“Years ago.” She neither expected nor received sympathy from Troy. She knew the Pendletons had lost their mother and father, yet somehow they had come out stronger because of it. Until lately, she thought she’d become stronger because of her losses too. “Listen, I need to get back to work. There’s no need for you to be—”
He caught her arm. “I need, because I made a promise. I can’t leave here until I’m satisfied that you’re okay.”
The determined look in his violet eyes unnerved her. “It’s really none of your business.”
“It is now.”
Senada took a calming breath. No need to get upset, she told herself. She could handle Troy. She’d always sensed she made him a little uncomfortable, a little off balance. She preferred it that way. Instead of pulling away, she stepped closer and smiled. “Why Troy, I would have never dreamed you cared. You’re an intelligent man. Now take a good look,” she dared him. “Can you honestly say I look like I’m suffering?”
She withstood his narrowed gaze and felt a measure of surprise that he focused on her face instead of her breasts.
He lightly traced beneath her eyes with his callused thumb. “Dark circles?”
Another dart of surprise raced through her. He was more perceptive than she’d thought, and she would be looking for a new concealer tomorrow. “A good time and late night will catch up with the best of us,” she lied with a shrug, and slipped away. “You should know that. Now you’ve done your brotherly duty. Give Lisa my best and tell her I’m fine.”
Senada turned her back to him and wished with all her heart that she wasn’t lying. Because she wasn’t fine.
Troy watched her deliberately avoid him for the rest of the evening.
“Muy attractiva, sí?” a man next to him said.
Unfortunately, the only Spanish Troy knew was what he’d learned from Speedy Gonzales cartoons and Terminator movies. “Pardon?”
The man snickered. “One hot woman, that Senada. Yes?”
“Yeah,” he said, sizing up the man. “You know her well?”
“Not well enough.” He gave Troy a meaningful glance. “She is a beautiful tease. All the men try, but she goes home alone. My name is Juan Marcheta. You are new?”
“Visiting from Tennessee. I’m Troy Pendleton.”
“You do not sound like the Texans.”
Troy chuckled. He supposed he sounded pretty foreign to this guy. “I guess not. You know anywhere I can get a room for the night?”
Juan recommended a few places, then left Troy to ponder the puzzle of Senada. Although he would be the first to admit he had the sensitivity of a block of wood, he suspected something strange was going on. Aside from Senada’s abrupt departure from Chattanooga, she usually had a half-dozen men dangling on her line. The fact that she wasn’t seeing anyone gave him pause.
Women.
Troy shook his head. With the exception of Ethan and Nathan, his brothers had all lost their minds. They’d turned his existence upside down. They’d gotten married.
And now, because his sister-in-law was worried, he was in a two-bit Texas border town, and he was not only supposed to get some answers from a woman, he was supposed to reason with one—a crazy one at that.
He swore under his breath. This family duty stuff was for the birds, but Troy was a man of his word. Sliding back into the hard wooden chair, he ordered a burger and nursed another beer and watched Senada.
It was 2:00 a.m. when Senada pushed the key into the doorknob of her small but well-maintained rental home. Feeling a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, she stopped and turned around. Probably Juan, she thought, staring into the darkness. He’d followed her home another time.
“The answer is no,” she said, wishing her porch light hadn’t burned out.
Her heart sprinted when she saw the silhouette of a big male form. Juan wasn’t that tall.
The moonlight hit Troy’s face as he stepped forward. “I didn’t ask.” His mouth tilted. “Yet.”
Relief sputtered through her, followed quickly by irritation. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and opened the door for her. “Just wanted to see where you live.”
Senada kept her back to the doorway. “It would have been polite to warn me.”
“It would have been polite for you to invite me,” he corrected in a low voice, and met her gaze.
“It’s late.”
Troy nodded but didn’t graciously back off. His blue eyes didn’t waver, his jaw was set in a firm line.
She sighed and led the way into her living room. “Three minutes,” she told him, and flicked on a lamp.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and prowled around the small room. “Looks like rental furniture.”
She’d always known Troy was big, but having him in her home made her more aware of the fact. Two minutes and thirty seconds, she noted. “Mine’s in storage. This was quicker, easier.”
“Why