by Beth Yarnall
“What about me?”
“Do you ever indulge your fantasies?”
She wanted to answer that she didn’t have the luxury of indulging herself in anything, let alone fantasy. But looking across the short span of the table at him, all of a sudden she had all kinds of fantasies. Beginning and ending with him. However, having them and acting on them were two entirely different things separated by the gulf of worries she had to keep from him, from everyone.
“No.”
He shifted his attention to the letters. Her answer seemed to have decided something for him, making him mad all over again. She could tell by the rigidity of his shoulders. He ignored her and leafed through the letters, examining each one carefully. He suddenly stopped and pulled one out. “The Fort Worth Federal Correctional Institution?”
“I don’t usually get very many of those. Lucy’s the one who attracts the habitually incarcerated. My letters are usually pretty tame compared to hers. Prison letters, well, they can range from sad to lewd enough to make a prostitute blush.”
“Let’s see what Doyle Gann has to say to you.”
Mi sat back and sipped her beer. For a man with such large hands Lucas took great care in opening the letter without tearing it. The few prison letters Mi had gotten were more sad than disturbing. There was more than one kind of prison. Mi knew what it was like to feel trapped, caged.
Lucas scanned the letter and then turned to Mi with a flat expression. All of the anger was gone. In its place was cool control. His voice reflected it. “Mi, get me a plastic bag. Now.”
Mi set her beer down with a dull thunk and scraped her chair back from the table. She did as Lucas asked, dread heavy in her chest. He carefully placed the letter and envelope in the bag and sealed it.
Mi couldn’t stand it. The not knowing. “What did it say?”
“How many letters have you gotten from Doyle Gann?”
“Four or five.”
“And you didn’t report them to the police?”
Mi shook her head.
“This letter is very specific about the things he wants to do to you, Mi. Very specific.” He held up the bag with the letter in it. “Have they all been like this?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you report them?”
“He never said anything in his letters that worried me. He was just a sad, lonely guy in prison. I felt sorry for him not afraid of him.”
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
“He was released three weeks ago. And he’s promising to make good on all of the things he said he’d do to you. And more.”
CHAPTER THREE
Mi’s face paled, making her freckles stand out in stark relief. If it was possible, she looked even smaller, more fragile. Lucas wanted to reach out to her, take her hand in his, and pull her to him.
“I need to see the other letters. Where are they?” Lucas asked as gently as he knew how.
She swayed where she stood and that’s when Lucas did what he’d wanted to do since he met her. He stood, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms, then settled back onto the chair in one fluid motion. Shivering, she snuggled into him as though she needed his heat to ward off the cold. He held her as tightly as he dared, acutely aware of the difference in their sizes. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer. She seemed to need something from him, something he wasn’t giving.
“Tighter,” she whispered, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt.
He repositioned his arms, doing his best to do what she asked and at the same time trying not to crush her. She was softer than he thought she’d be, the feel her skin, the lushness of her flesh. He lowered his chin, resting it against her hair still damp from her shower. She smelled like a flower garden, clean and feminine to the extreme. He ached to press his nose to her neck, between her breasts. Hell, he wanted to taste her. Just once.
He shifted her slightly, relieving the pressure of her hip against his erection. One of her hands slipped down his chest. She flattened her palm, moving it over him slowly, experimentally. Her breath blew hot against his neck. He wondered what she thought of him, of his size. He held still, hardly breathing, afraid she’d stop touching him. More than anything he wanted her hands on him. All over him.
The fingers of her other hand laced into the hair at the nape of his neck, tentatively at first and then she grew bolder, stroking him. He suppressed a moan, chills racing over his body. It took every ounce of his military training to remain perfectly motionless. This tiny woman had reduced him to a quivering mass of need with nothing more than her touch. And then she brushed her lips on his neck in a barely there kiss that was nearly his undoing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pushing against his chest for him to release her.
It took a moment for his arms to obey. He loosened his grip and she slipped right out, moving out of his arms and away from him as fast as she could. He felt the loss as though she’d been ripped from him.
She wouldn’t look at him past his chin. “Thank you. You know—” She gestured at him. “—for that. I’ll just go and, ah, get you those letters.” She disappeared down the hall.
He sat there, staring at the empty space where she’d stood, her scent still wrapped around him. One moment he was sitting, then the next he was following her. Down the hall to the one room he’d not been in. Hers. There was more of Mi here. Her fragrance. Her taste for soft colors and plush fabrics. He didn’t see her at first and then noticed the light on in the closet. She mumbled to herself, moving things around. When he looked inside she was reaching up for a box on the top shelf.
He came up behind her and easily grabbed it for her. She gave a shriek of surprise and jumped back into him.
He wrapped an arm across her middle, bringing her against him and preventing her from falling. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He presented her with the box, still holding her to him. “Is this what you were after.”
She reached for it with both hands. “Yes. Thank you.” She sounded a little breathless. A little nervous.
Was she afraid of him? That thought had him taking a step back, releasing her instantly. He backed away and into the bedroom.
She followed, the box tucked against her hip. She set the box on the bed and opened it. She riffled through it until she found what she was looking for, a small bundle of letters bound together. “These are all of them. I guess there were more than I thought.”
There had to be at least ten letters in the bundle. Lucas accepted them with a frown. The oldest letter was postmarked a year ago. “You should have reported these. It might have made a difference at Doyle Gann’s parole hearing.”
She worked her lip between her teeth.
She looked so alone. Something about her had triggered all of his protective instincts from the moment he’d seen her at the TV studio. It wasn’t her size or her situation, but something more fundamental. She was his responsibility. His to care for.
He tried for reassuring, anything to get her to stop gnawing her lip. “You don’t worry about Doyle Gann or anything else. That’s my job. You hear? You just go about your business, do your show. You’ll be fine.”
She gave a short nod and some of the strain in her face eased away.
Now that he’d touched her he couldn’t seem to stop. Cupping her face in his hand he smoothed her worn lip. “That’s better.”
For the first time in maybe forever Mi felt like she wasn’t alone. When Lucas had swept her up and cradled her in his arms, she’d felt cherished, protected. He’d done nothing more than comfort her even though he was obviously aroused. This man was a bundle of contradictions. Despite his size he was surprisingly gentle and moved with the grace and power of a predator. She knew he’d never harm her, but sensed he could be hurt very deeply. And now he was looking at her with a combination of protectiveness and a hunger so raw it reached inside her and scorched a path straight through her.
Nothing with this man would be simple or straightforward. It would be complicate
d, demanding and all consuming. But she didn’t want easy. She wanted to be whisked away on a flood of desire so strong it stole her breath and blocked out all other thought.
She didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly she was lifted up and into him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she held him as fiercely as he held her. Their gazes locked. His eyes were dark with need, but he gave her that split second to back out, to change her mind. Then his mouth was on hers, moving with skill that only hinted at the passion he was capable of. She changed the angle of the kiss, wanting more. Thrusting her hands in his hair, she brought him closer.
They tumbled onto the bed and the playing field was even. She could move against him without the difference in their size interfering. Her hands roamed over the sharp angles of his face, down across his broad shoulders. He brought her up against him, lifting her leg over his hip. Pulling her head back by her hair, he broke the kiss, licking and nipping her neck. He was everywhere. She nearly forgot who she was and why this was probably not a good idea. She heard the faint peal of warning bells that sounded like her mother’s ringtone.
She bolted upright. “Oh, my God. My phone.”
Lucas leaned up on an elbow, his arm wrapped around her waist. “Let it ring.”
“No.” She scrambled out of bed, fumbling to right her robe. If she didn’t answer it, her mother wouldn’t just call back, she’d come over thinking something was wrong. Mi skidded to a stop in the kitchen and fumbled in her purse on the counter for her phone. The phone stopped ringing just as she found it.
“Damn it!” She punched in her mother’s number, hopping foot to foot. “Come on, come on. Answer. Hello? Hi. No, sorry. I was in the bathroom.”
Lucas came up behind her and put his arms around her, bending so he could lick the shell of her ear. “Querida.”
His murmur sent chills of pleasure racing through her. And then her mother said something that nearly stopped her heart.
“I think there’s something wrong with Ethan.”
Mi fumbled madly to get out of Lucas’s embrace. She held a hand up to ward him off and backed away, trying to keep her voice even. “Why do you say that?” she asked her mother.
“He seems… I don’t know—” Her mother’s words slurred slightly. “—not right. The signs are all there like when I saw the rainbow in the window at Kroger’s. Do you remember that?”
Lucas watched her with an intensity that unnerved her. She had to get away from him. He saw too much. More than she wanted him to.
“Hang on a minute,” she told her mother. She put her hand over the phone and addressed Lucas in the calmest way she could without letting him see all of the stomach-turning turmoil inside of her. She indicated the phone. “I need to take this.”
Fleeing back down the hall to her room, Mi prayed she could handle her mother with just a simple phone call. If not then she’d have to call her brother, Jason, and that was a conversation she did not want to have.
Lucas watched Mi escape back down the hall. Whoever was on the phone had said something that had scared her half to death. She’d looked at him like he was the enemy, panic clawing at her, draining her face of color. He’d give anything right that moment to find out whom she was speaking to and what they were saying. He reminded himself that he was just her bodyguard. His job was to keep her alive and nothing more. But with those few stolen kisses he felt like more.
Frustration burned a hole in his gut. This was supposed to have been an easy few days. Instead he had a dick hard enough to cut diamonds caused by a slip of a woman who drove him to near distraction. A woman who had secrets she wasn’t likely to share with him. He sank into the nearest chair and looked around him. The house held few clues about the woman who owned it. If anything she became an ever-increasing mystery the more he knew about her.
He’d be wise to keep his distance from her. No more kisses, no more holding her, no more thoughts about the breast he’d gotten a peek of when her robe had slipped open. Small, almost dainty, and tipped with the most exquisitely sculpted pink nipple…
Fuck.
He got up and made the rounds of the house, checking to make sure the locks were in place, pathetic as they were. This house was a security nightmare. Anybody with a boot could bust through the front door and to top it off the window over the kitchen sink wouldn’t lock. He’d managed to jerry-rig it temporarily, but he didn’t have much confidence in it. He could think of a hundred ways he could get in with nothing more than a screwdriver and his bare hands.
Confident the house was as secure as it could be, he stopped outside Mi’s room to give her instructions so he could sneak in a quick shower. Her voice through the thin door stilled his hand before he could knock.
“No, you don’t seem to get that this is your responsibility, too. I wasn’t the only one there, you know… I’m doing the best I can, but I have to work to pay for things… I know, I know, but what am I supposed to do about that now?… Why can’t you help me for once?… His birthday is next month. You are going to be there, aren’t you?… Please, I can’t do this alone.”
There was a long pause in her conversation and then her wavering voice turned pleading, desperate.
“Please, Jay. Please. I need you.”
He was an idiot to be getting involved with Mi. Standing outside her bedroom door listening while she begged another man, needing another man, he felt twelve times the fool. He knocked on her door anyway, banging on it hard out of spite. He heard a yelp of surprise that gave him a kind of perverse joy, then he heard her mumble something, probably to the asshole on the phone. She cracked the door open, peering wide-eyed at him like a child who’d been busted. He noticed she held the phone against her belly.
“I’m going to take a quick shower,” he told her louder than was necessary, pushing past her into the room. “I need to check your window to make sure it’s secure.”
He made a show of checking her window, taking longer than he normally would. Which was probably why he noticed it. A small hole in the headrail of the aluminum mini blinds over the window. He inspected it as best as he could without disturbing it or giving away the fact that it had drawn his attention.
He backed away from the window and walked the room, casually looking for more holes or anything else that was unusual.
“What are you looking for?” Mi asked, biting her lip and clutching her phone tighter against her.
Noticing the hole in the smoke detector directly across from her bed, Lucas nearly cursed out loud. Someone had already broken into the house and set up cameras with a perfect view of everything Mi would have done in her bedroom, including changing her clothes and that brief roll on the bed with him. The thought of a stranger spying on Mi in her most private moments pissed him off so much it was all he could do not to hit something.
Mi must have caught on to his mood because she put the phone to her ear and told Jay the asshole she’d call him back. She dropped the phone into the pocket of her robe, and faced him fully, shoulders back, chin up.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I need you to get dressed and pack a bag with whatever you’re going to need for a few days. Maybe a week.”
“Why?”
Lucas debated telling her for two reasons. One: the fucker who’d been spying on her could be listening in. And two: he didn’t want to scare her. She’d been though enough. More than enough.
But she also deserved to know what she was up against.
“Someone broke in to your house and installed cameras. There are two in here and if I looked, I imagine I’d find more.” He’d bet money there’d be at least one, probably two in the bathroom. “The locks on your doors and windows are a joke. The lock on the window over the kitchen sink is broken. I can’t adequately protect you here.”
Trembling, she rubbed her forehead, working that bottom lip again. He wanted so much to go to her, put his arms around her and make it all go away.
“Where are they?” she asked, her voice sounding
rusty and raw.
“At the window and the smoke detector.” He clenched his jaw, thinking about how violated she must feel.
“How… how long do you think they’ve been there?”
“I don’t know.”
She nodded and walked to her dresser. She turned back, looking at him over her shoulder. “Where do I… how do I…?” Her voice cracked at first, then grew stronger as the anger came to her. “How am I supposed to dress knowing someone’s watching me?”
“I’ll check the closet, but I don’t expect to find a camera there. You can take what you need and dress in there.”
She turned back to the dresser and began pulling things out of drawers. Lucas went to the closet and searched everywhere he could think someone would hide a camera. He didn’t find anything. He walked back into the bedroom and found Mi leaning over the dresser, her palms flat on the surface, supporting her weight. She’d stacked a few things on top, then seemed to have hit a wall. She breathed deeply in and out, her shoulders hunched. He could see just enough of her face in the mirror over the dresser to know she was fighting emotion. Since the moment he’d met her, he’d witnessed this slight warrior valiantly wage war on a whole barrage of feelings he couldn’t begin to imagine.
He came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned into him instantly, wrapping her arms around his middle, holding on tight. He tucked her into him, helpless to stop himself. He didn’t know what was or wasn’t going on between them. All he knew was that she needed him. And in that moment it was enough.
He held her until she’d gotten her fill and pulled out of the embrace. She gathered her things and headed for the closet. His arms felt strangely empty without her in them so he crossed them over his chest. While he waited, he examined the items on her dresser. There were the usual female things: a hairbrush, some hair pins, a tube of lip stuff, a pair of earrings and framed photo of Mi and Lucy on the set of Pleasure at Home. It was a casual pose of the two of them with their arms around each other and smiles as wide and open as the Texas sky. Their friendship was obvious in the way their heads were tipped together.
