The wind was cold and snatched at the hem of her coat, blowing her hair into a tangle. She put her head down, determined to avoid speaking to anyone. She wasn’t worried about Dawson approaching her again. He’d said what he had to say and he wasn’t a man to repeat himself—as she had reason to know.
Besides, after the viral video, Dawson wouldn’t hang around town because he wouldn’t want to run into people he knew. Dawson’s tentacles reached all over Texas. She could almost understand that—now that she’d talked about her failed marriage, it wasn’t only excitement she’d seen around Royal that morning. Irina had also seen the same kind of interested, curious, sympathetic glances Kellan had complained about. Now she knew what it felt like, having people discuss her life. To have them watching her with kind, but curious, eyes. And she felt a whole new sympathy for him.
“Which,” she told herself, “he wouldn’t want at all.”
“Talking to yourself?”
Eight
Irina jolted. For the second time that day, a man had come up behind her. She really needed to pay more attention to her surroundings.
“Sorry,” Kellan said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
She took a breath and blew it out. “Well, you did.” She kept walking, ignoring the ache in her side that Dawson had left with her as a reminder, until Kellan took her arm and drew her to a stop.
“What’s going on with you? Why’d you leave the diner?”
“It’s nothing, Kellan. I’m just not in the mood for a party.”
“Yeah,” he studied her. “Looks like more.”
“Well, it’s not.” Now he had to get insightful? She pulled her arm free, nodded at the woman hurrying past them with several shopping bags. “Shouldn’t you be with your ‘assistant’?”
“Meeting’s over.”
“Looked like a friendly one,” she said and immediately wished she hadn’t. She sounded jealous. Maybe she was. How pitiful was that? He’d already made it clear, both in the past and only last week, that there would be nothing more than sex between them. And hadn’t she taken a stand, as well? Told him she was letting him go? That she wasn’t going to have her dreams crushed again?
But she hadn’t let him go. That had been pure bravado and she hadn’t been able to back it up, damn it.
“I didn’t come after you to talk about Ellie Rae.”
Irina stopped on the sidewalk, dragged windblown hair out of her eyes and stared up at him. “Then why did you?”
An older man stepped out of the hardware store and grinned. “Kellan. Boy, my granddaughter showed me that clip of you going after Miranda. Want you to know I’m going to be watching the whole show.”
Kellan grimaced. “Great. Thanks, Bill.” When the man walked on, Kellan muttered, “My own fault for signing the release just so the country could see what a fortune hunter Miranda really was. Now I can’t go anywhere without someone talking about that stupid show.”
“Then maybe you should stay home.” Maybe she should have, too.
“Why the hell would I hide?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. Tired. She was suddenly so tired. “And I don’t care, either. Goodbye, Kellan.” Just walk, Irina. Just walk and get somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. Where you can think.
He tugged her to a stop again.
Once more, she pulled free. The difference between him and Dawson was that Kellan didn’t hold her against her will. At the moment, though, Irina felt pushed beyond what she could deal with and she just needed to be alone. “I’m not in the mood for this, Kellan.”
“That’s why I followed you.” He looked into her eyes and she wondered how much he was seeing. How much he could sense. She tried to take the fear, the worry, out of her gaze, but that was impossible. All she could hope was that he either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t say anything.
“You’re shaken.”
“It’s cold,” she said defensively.
“I didn’t say shaking,” he countered and gave a quick glance at the heavy Christmas-shopping traffic on Main Street. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her along beside him.
“Stop it, Kellan. I’m going home.”
“Right again,” he said. “My home.”
“No.” She stopped dead. If he wanted her to go with him, he would have to literally drag her behind him. Her emotions were too wild, too uncontrolled right now. Too close to the surface. She couldn’t trust herself with him. Couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t blurt out something stupid. Something she wouldn’t be able to take back.
“Damn it, Irina,” he said and idly lifted one hand to greet someone behind her. “Something’s wrong. I can see it.”
His blue eyes shone with concern, and at any other time, she’d have been happy to see it. But she was too needy now and if she gave in to the urge to lean, even just a little, on him, she would end up dumping everything on him. She didn’t want to do that. “If there is, it’s none of your business.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted. “And I can see why you would believe that. But...if you think I’m going to back off when you’re clearly in trouble, you’re crazy.”
A huge part of her wanted to accept what he was offering. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to draw him into the mess that was Dawson Beckett. “You can’t do anything.”
“Try me.”
His eyes met hers. She stared up into those deep blue eyes and saw determination, tangled with worry, and Irina sighed. Kellan wasn’t going to give up on this. Though he had walls built around his heart, he was also the kind of man who would badger her until she told him what was wrong. Even if that meant they stood on that crowded sidewalk all day.
“Fine,” she said, surrendering to the inevitable. “I’ll go to your house. But I’m taking my own car because I’m not staying for long.” When he nodded, she turned to walk away and stopped when he spoke again.
“I’ll wait for you. You can follow me home.”
She tipped her head to one side to look at him. “Worried I won’t show up?”
“No,” he said coolly. “Worried you’re too upset to be driving. So I’m going to make sure you get there in one piece.”
Instantly, Irina knew he was remembering that his late wife had died in a traffic accident and she regretted being so snotty. God, talking to Kellan sometimes felt as if she were tiptoeing through a minefield.
Nodding, she said, “Fine. I’ll follow you.”
In fact, seven years ago, she would have followed him anywhere. Then he broke her heart. How humiliating was it to admit, even to herself, that nothing much had changed?
* * *
“Is Vaughn here?”
Kellan watched her wander the great room, unable to sit. Unwilling to let her guard down. She kept moving as if she could avoid talking if only she was busy enough. Her arms were folded across her chest and her teeth continually chewed at her bottom lip.
He’d known the minute he spotted her in the diner that something was very wrong. Irina’s features were so expressive and her eyes so open to the world that she was easy to read if you knew what to look for. Kellan didn’t like seeing her this way. It bothered the hell out of him that she was this agitated and still keeping the reason for it from him.
And it was shocking as hell to him to silently admit that seeing her upset tore at him until he felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
“No,” he said, finally answering her question. “Vaughn went back to Dallas for a couple of days to take care of some business.”
Kellan hadn’t expected to miss his brother’s presence. Hell, this was the longest they’d been together in years, and yet having him around had been...good. He’d enjoyed being able to spend time with his baby sister, too. In fact, he’d actually enjoyed simply being back in Royal, and he hadn’t expected that, either.
Kellan had spe
nt years avoiding his hometown, his family, anything that would remind him of his loss. Of Shea. Now being here, that old pain was somehow lessened. For some reason, he’d thought that Royal would remain unchanged, as if it was in a bubble, and coming back here he would be assailed with memories so thick he wouldn’t be able to see clearly.
Instead, the town had moved on, his family had, too, and it was only Kellan clinging to the past. Coming back, he’d rediscovered a sense of belonging, while at the same time he’d learned that his memories of Shea were softening, until they looked in his mind like a Monet painting—misty, shrouded in wisps of remembrance that hid the pain and left the happiness. He didn’t know what to think about that, so he put it away and focused on the woman who haunted his every thought.
Even knowing something was bothering her didn’t take away from the bone-deep attraction he felt for her. In her dark blue jeans, forest green tunic-style sweater and black boots, she looked...amazing. Her strawberry blond hair tumbled down her back in a tangle of curls and waves, tempting him to thread his fingers through that silky mass. But drawing on his willpower, he buried his need and focused on her.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
She whipped her head around to look at him. “Is that an order?”
“Where’s that coming from? When have I ever ordered you to do anything?”
She waved one hand and admitted, “You never have. I know that.”
“It’s a request. Talk to me, Irina.”
“Why?” She stared at him. “Why is this important to you, Kellan?”
He couldn’t explain that. Not to her. Not to himself. He only knew that having her trust him enough to talk to him was more vital than anything ever had been before. Maybe he didn’t have the right to her trust. Maybe he’d given that right up seven years ago. But he was here now. And that had to count for something, didn’t it? “Because maybe I can help.”
She shook her head. “Why would you want to? There’s nothing between us, Kellan. You’ve made sure of that.”
Yes he had. Seven years ago. But only a week ago, it had been Irina calling a halt to whatever it was that burned between them. “You’re the one who pulled away this time, Irina.”
“Before you could do it—which I’m sure you were about to do.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?” Though inside, he had to acknowledge that she was probably right. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She pushed both hands through her hair, turned around to face him from across the room until she was backlit in front of the window. Outside, the wind was blowing and the pines growing in the yard bent and dipped in the strength of it.
“Fine,” she said, releasing a pent-up breath. “My ex-husband found me on Main Street. He’s—” she laughed harshly “—unhappy about the show. About my book. He wants money and I don’t have it to give him.”
“He’s blackmailing you?” A surge of anger charged through Kellan with a strength he wouldn’t have believed possible.
“Extortion would be the technical term.” She folded her arms across her chest again and whipped around to stare out the front window, avoiding his eyes. “Are you happy now?”
“Happy?” He stalked across the room in a few long strides. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Hell no, I’m not happy. I’m pissed. That he came at you. That you were alone. That I had to browbeat you to get you to tell me.”
She pulled away from him. “Don’t. Don’t grab me, Kellan.”
He let her go instantly. He didn’t like the slight tinge of panic he’d heard in her voice. “I’m sorry.”
Sighing, she said, “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. It isn’t about you, Kellan. It’s Dawson. He always grabs hold of me—like I’m a rag doll or something.”
“I’m not him.” And it pissed him off that she would compare him to her dick of an ex even for an instant. He could understand it, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. He’d never hurt a woman in his life and loathed the men who did.
“I know that.” She laughed again and it still sounded pained. “God, I know that, Kellan.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him and whispered, “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need some time to think.”
“Bullshit.”
“What?” She blinked at him.
“You heard me.” Kellan laid both hands on her shoulders—gently, carefully—to make sure she knew that his touch was nothing like her ex’s. Thankfully, she didn’t flinch or try to get away. “You don’t need to think about this, Irina. You already know what you have to do. You need to talk to Sheriff Battle. Nathan will know how to handle this guy.”
She laughed harshly and the sound was like breaking glass. “I told Dawson I would and he said he would have important people step in and make sure the sheriff couldn’t help me.”
“And you believe him?” Kellan shook his head and kept his gaze locked on hers. “Come on, Irina. The man’s a bastard. He specializes in hurting you. Making you afraid. Why would you take his word for anything?”
She stared into his eyes for what felt like forever, before she slowly nodded. “You’re right.” Pushing her hair back from her face, she took a deep breath. “I should have realized that on my own—” She held up one hand. “And I probably would have once I’d had some time to myself to think it through.”
“Yeah, you would have,” he said with assurance. “I just helped you see it sooner is all.”
Frowning a little, she asked, “Do you really believe that?”
“Of course I do,” he said and wanted her to believe it, too. She’d picked herself up after a disastrous marriage and built a wonderful, successful future for herself. Kellan admired the hell out of that. “You’re a smart woman, Irina. You’d have figured out that the bastard was just trying to keep you from going to the police for help.”
She huffed out a breath. “God, he was, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah.” Kellan nodded and gave her a half smile. “But you’re stronger than he thinks you are. You survived him. You built a life. His coming after you like that tells me that he’s the one who’s afraid.”
One corner of her mouth turned up at the thought. “You think so?”
“Count on it. Now. You’re going to see Sheriff Battle, right?”
Her head cocked, she looked up at him. “I am. That’s what I have to do.”
“I’ll go with you.” And he wouldn’t take no for an answer on that point. He was going to stand beside her until Dawson Beckett was sent back to whatever rat hole he’d climbed out of.
She nodded again. “Yes. Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
“Okay, then.” Glad that was settled and that he didn’t have to push her to accept his help, Kellan pulled her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.
“Ow!” She pulled away and he had to admit he really hated when she did that.
But not nearly as much as he hated the flash of pain in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
She rubbed her side and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Irina...” While she avoided his gaze and brushed off his concern, Kellan focused on where she was rubbing. Fury rose up within him like waves crashing against the base of a cliff. “He hurt you.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s nothing.”
He kept his voice even, though his blood was pumping thick and hot. “Show me.”
Her mouth worked as if she would argue, and then finally, she walked away from the wide front window. She kept walking until she was in the empty foyer, standing beneath a skylight through which watery sunlight drifted into the room.
“Vaughn’s not here, you said. Is anyone else?”
“No,” he ground out, looking down at her. “It’
s just us.”
Nodding, she slowly pulled up the hem of her sweater.
Kellan spotted the angry reddened skin at her ribs and knew that by tomorrow, she’d be black-and-blue. He fought for control. Fought to contain the rage that raced through him. His hands fisted at his sides and everything in him wished he had that bastard in front of him. He’d make the man pay for putting a mark on her skin and fear in her eyes.
“Dawson prefers pinching to punching,” she said, already dropping her sweater.
“Don’t,” Kellan urged and caught the hem of the heavy knit fabric. Lifting it again, he smoothed his fingertips gently over her burgeoning bruise and saw her eyes mist over. From pain? Humiliation? Anger? He couldn’t be sure, though she had the right to feel all three and more.
Slowly, he went down on one knee in front of her.
“Kellan...”
“Shh.” He leaned in and kissed her bruise. Gently, carefully, his mouth, his lips covered every inch of the mark Dawson Beckett had left on her as if he were trying to wipe the man out of her memory.
She sighed and swayed toward him, and that soft sound fed a different kind of fire inside Kellan. His hands slid up her legs and cupped her behind while he continued to kiss her bruised skin.
“That feels good,” she murmured.
“So will this.” He tipped his head back, smiled at her and then let his hands find the waistband of her jeans. With her gaze locked on him, he quickly undid the snap and zipper and then dragged the denim down. Kellan saw the flash of passion dazzling her eyes and was grateful that every trace of fear was gone now.
“You have great legs,” he whispered. “Always did like them.”
He glanced at the lacy pale pink panties she wore, then hooked a finger in the waistband and pulled them down, as well.
“Um, Kellan. What’re you doing?”
“I think that’s pretty clear,” he said with a wink.
“I thought you wanted me to go to the sheriff...”
Tempting the Texan Page 11
