Too bad.
That little cowgirl looked like she might have some spirit. Clay Wayland probably just lost out on a night of fun and relaxation.
The mellow malt flavor of beer lingered in Luke’s throat as he contemplated the fact it had been too long for his liking since he’d enjoyed the company of a fine woman. He’d known his share of ladies, but in the past few years, since he gave up trying anything serious, he hadn’t met any ladies who could keep his attention for more than a night or two of good, hard sex.
Past few years? Hell.
If he got honest with himself, he’d have to admit that had been a problem most of his life.
He was more attached to his truck than most people. Probably a consequence of growing up hard and alone, then going into law enforcement. Like Clay Wayland, he rarely got a night of uninterrupted fun. And until he brought down the Guerrero operation and whoever it was starting a war with them, he’d be too busy for any kind of involvement.
That whole cattle bullshit Woods had arranged for Guerrero had just been a distraction, a sleight of hand, and a little more cash for the asshole. The real scheme involved smuggling drugs in from Mexico using illegal immigrants, UDAs, for Guerrero mules.
Noah Ralston of Customs and Border Protection had been notified of the UDA’s and immediately took over that aspect of the investigation. Ralston and the CBP had subsequently called the DEA. What CBP hadn’t known was that Luke and his agency had already been sniffing around Guerrero.
Luke sure would like to know what that weasel Woods knew, but the bastard wouldn’t say a word even to cut his potential prison time. The men that Clay Wayland, Zack Hunter, and Luke had rounded up with Woods had been damn near worthless as far as information on the Guerrero operation.
Gritting his teeth, Luke clenched and unclenched his fists. No sign of Joyce. She was lost in the crowd at the bar. For half a second, he wished he could take the night off and have some fun, get the edge off, but time was one thing he—and Douglas—didn’t have. And Joyce wasn’t the type of woman he’d like to sink into to take that edge off.
Just as he was about to go looking for his own beer, he saw a woman coming down the stairs who had to be Nevaeh, by Skylar’s description. Pretty, vivacious, bright and intelligent eyes. And—
Damn.
The woman beside Nevaeh.
Any thought he had about finding any other woman evaporated like water on a desert rock.
Nevaeh said something that caused the woman to laugh, and her lips curved into a radiant smile that met her beautiful green eyes.
Eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Yet he knew he’d never seen this woman before, and he never forgot a face. Ever.
Luke’s sharpened senses took in every detail of the woman and came up with a puzzle. She appeared strong, sexy, and confident, yet there was a contradicting air of vulnerability about her.
Intrigued, he watched her stroll into the room, her movements smooth and graceful. Her strawberry blond hair was piled on top of her head in a sexy just-got-out-of-bed style, and her jade green eyes were big, giving her an innocent look.
Yet the tiny red dress she wore was made for sin. It hugged her figure, showing off her generous breasts, small waist, and curvy hips. Definitely a dress designed to drive a man to his knees. And those high heels she was wearing—damn.
A vision came to him—having the woman beneath him, sliding between her thighs while her desire-filled green eyes focused entirely on him.
Luke’s groin tightened and he shifted his position.
Looked like this night might get real interesting.
How the hell was he supposed to keep his mind on business now?
Chapter 4
“I’m going to have to hire a bodyguard just to beat the guys off of you,” Nevaeh said as she and Trinity headed down the stairs and into the enormous recreation room of the bed-and-breakfast. “You’re a man magnet. I swear every male in this place is watching you.” She pointed to the Doberman resting at the foot of the stairs. “Even Killer, my dog. Look at him staring at you—he’s in love.”
Trinity laughed. “More than likely Killer just wants to sink his teeth into these stilts you call shoes,” she said, while at the same time trying not to tumble down the staircase. She could just picture herself landing in a heap, this ridiculously small red dress up around her waist. Now that would certainly get some attention.
Why had she let Nevaeh talk her into wearing this outfit, anyway? This was more Nevaeh’s wild style than Trinity’s. The blue backless dress Nevaeh was wearing hugged her generous figure perfectly, outlining every beautiful curve. And the daring slit on one side went straight up to her hip bone. Nevaeh carried it off with elegance and style. Unlike Trinity, Nevaeh never tripped or spilled anything.
Nevaeh greeted guests with a wave and a brilliant smile as they descended. “Too bad you’re engaged,” she said to Trinity.
“I’m not exactly engaged.” Trinity gave a little shrug as they reached the landing. “Race just hinted, rather strongly, that he plans to ask me when we get together for Christmas in a few weeks.”
Guiding Trinity to the lavishly spread snack table, Nevaeh said, “Close enough. And it’s a real shame.”
“I don’t know that I’m going to say yes, Nev.”
Trinity braced for Nevaeh’s reaction, but her friend didn’t say a word. Trinity glanced from Nevaeh’s frozen smile to the vat of red Christmas punch with the fifteen-dollar-a-cup price tag.
Oh, so not. Red punch, white carpet—not happening.
She checked out the bottles of wine and decided on a twenty- dollar glass of Chardonnay. At least that way if she spilled it on the carpet, it wouldn’t stain. She paid the bartender, took the wine glass, and cocked an eyebrow at Nevaeh, who was still smiling like she hadn’t heard Trinity.
“Nev, I just told you that a rich, gorgeous man with a sports car and a British accent is going to propose to me and I might say no, and you didn’t even scream. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Would you look at that cowboy?” Nevaeh leaned close, and Trinity caught her powdery scent. “The man is to die for. That’s a man who could rock somebody’s world.”
Laughing, Trinity rolled her eyes. “You and cowboys. I never did go for the big-hat-and-horse types myself.”
“Let’s at least find out his name.” Nevaeh put her hand on Trinity’s arm. “If you don’t want him, I might. Seriously. That’s one gorgeous hunk of cowboy.”
Trinity shook her head so hard it was a wonder her hair didn’t tumble out of its clip. “I left boots and spurs behind four years ago. Even if I was free, and even if something ever came of it, I’m not about to settle down here, where I went through the worst years of my life.”
“Mmmm-hmmm.” Nevaeh rolled her eyes. “DropCaps would let you work anywhere. And you can take the cowgirl out of the ranch, but—”
“Madeline, is that you?” a man’s voice cut in, and Trinity winced at the name before she looked up to see Noah Ralston, one of the nicest as well as one of the most drop-dead gorgeous cowboys she’d ever known growing up. At over six feet with that chestnut brown hair mussed all over his head, he looked like he’d just come in from a long trail ride. Sexy bastard.
“Noah!” Trinity reached up and gave him a quick one-armed hug, being careful not to spill her wine. “Dang, but it’s good to see you.”
“Well, hell. I hardly recognized you.” He tweaked a tendril of Trinity’s hair and gave her his easy grin. “Probably wouldn’t have if Nevaeh here hadn’t told me you were coming, and that you’d changed. You’re all grown up now.”
Trinity felt heat creep up her neck and she shook her head. “Thanks, big guy. You don’t look so bad yourself.” And he didn’t. The tall, well-built man was a good eight years older than she, but she’d sure had a crush on him back when she was a teenager, until he’d gotten married. He’d always been more like a teasing older brother, one of the few guys in town who hadn’t tormented her, and
she’d come to appreciate him as a good friend. It had been a real shame when his wife was killed in that car accident, leaving him a widower and a single parent.
A faint ringing sound met Trinity’s ears over the Christmas music. Noah gave Nevaeh and Trinity a sheepish grin as he dug the phone out of his pocket and checked the caller ID. “Sorry, ladies. I’m on call and I’ve got to take this.”
“No problem.” Trinity smiled and waved him off. “We’ll do some more catching up later.”
Noah nodded and put the phone to his ear as he headed up the stairs, probably to someplace where it was a little more quiet.
“You know that Noah’s an intelligence agent with Customs and Border Protection, don’t you?” Nevaeh’s smile turned into a frown as she started to add, “He’s here with—” She stopped as the caterer rushed up and interrupted, telling Nevaeh she was urgently needed upstairs in the kitchen.
“All right, all right.” Nevaeh sighed and waved the caterer off. “Be right there.” She turned to Trinity. “Think you can fight off all the men while I go handle this mini crisis?”
“Sure.” Trinity laughed and raised her wineglass. “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble.” Her gaze cut to Killer. “And I’ve got my buddy right here.”
“Go talk to that cowboy,” Nevaeh said, pointing into the growing, well-dressed, and talkative crowd.
Trinity glanced in the direction Nevaeh pointed, but saw no one special. Lots of fancy suits, lots of strong, expensive cologne to make her eyes water. Heavy cologne was such a turnoff. She loved a man’s true scent—most of the time.
She lifted the goblet to her lips. A devilishly adorable guy with jet-black hair and a neat moustache was gazing at her as he sipped a majorly expensive mixed drink. Black Armani suit, expensive black hat with a beaded edge, silver cuff links, nice diamond ring on his pinky—now this one screamed big money and big trouble, didn’t he?
He nodded to Trinity.
She managed to nod back, but felt her cheeks coloring. Old Trinity was still hard at war with New Trinity.
She let her gaze drift over the party guests, trying to calm herself. It had been good to see Noah, as well as other old friends. Her thoughts turned to her first days back in the United States, when she’d stayed a few days with another good friend, Chloe Somerville.
Two years ago, Chloe had interviewed Trinity about the software projects she was supervising for Wildgames, and they’d hit it right off. Chloe was a journalist with a popular San Francisco magazine, but she was going through one hell of a messy divorce. Her ex-husband was a cheating bastard. Damn, but Chloe needed a good man.
Holiday music and laughter filled the room, and Trinity smiled as she watched couples dancing to a country-western tune. The room glittered with all the women dressed in brilliant sequined dresses and from the hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations.
Scents of pine, cinnamon, and hot wine punch started to compete with the cologne, along with the smell of burning mesquite wood in the fire blazing in the corner hearth. Sounds, sights, and smells of holidays that reminded Trinity of growing up in Arizona, and made her feel like she was home.
Home...
No. Home was wherever she decided to go—and that would probably be straight back to England, one of the hubs for DropCaps. And home would be with Race once he got around to asking her about sharing his life forever.
If she said yes.
Trinity sighed and tasted her wine again.
Why wasn’t she sure about Race? They’d be good together. She’d never want for anything, never have to worry about her security—so why did the word no keep flashing through her mind in pink neon whenever she thought about tying the knot with him?
Was it fear of commitment?
Inability to accept who she was now instead of who she had been?
“You look like a lady with much on her mind,” said a low, enticing, accented voice to her right.
Trinity startled, and her wine nearly sloshed over the edge of her glass.
The gorgeous man with the dark hair, expensive suit, and obviously expensive hat caught her elbow and held it steady. “Careful. That is very good wine.”
His accent was light, but definitely Hispanic, and his dark eyes sparkled as he smiled at her. “My name is Francisco Guerrero, though my friends call me Cao. I very much hope you will be my friend.”
Trinity felt the man’s gentle grip on her elbow, and the reality of his touch made her cheeks flush even more. “Cao. Doesn’t that mean gardener?”
“One of the interpretations, yes.” The man’s smile would have dazzled even a seasoned harpy.
In England, she would have been enjoying this exchange, taking control of it—but here, she was folding like a cheap lawn chair.
Old Trinity.
God, she was starting to hate herself all over again.
“I’m clumsy with my glass sometimes.” She tried to smile as she extracted herself from his warm fingers. “Well, I’m clumsy with a lot of things.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Guerrero said, and he sounded like he meant it.
Hair prickled at Trinity’s nape, as though she was being watched from a totally different location, and a slight shiver skittered down her spine. She knew she was acting slightly rude to Guerrero, but she couldn’t help pivoting, searching for the source of the sensation—and she came to an abrupt stop.
Caught her breath.
Heard Nevaeh’s voice bouncing through her mind, whispering, One gorgeous hunk of cowboy.
Okay, yeah, this must be the guy.
Because he was the most rugged, most handsome cowboy she’d ever had the pleasure of viewing.
He was standing a few yards away from her, sometimes hidden from view by the flow of the crowd. The look on his face was nothing short of feral.
Instinctively she took a step back, bumping into Guerrero, who caught her and her wine both this time. He didn’t keep hold of her, and Trinity noticed that he seemed angered by the cowboy’s scrutiny.
“My apologies,” Guerrero murmured. “I had no idea you were attached. Please forgive my boldness.”
He was gone before Trinity could correct the mistake, not that she could have managed a single word with the cowboy staring at her so intently.
She raised a trembling hand and drained her wine.
The cowboy moved toward her.
Was it her imagination, or was the crowd parting for him?
You’re losing your mind. Trin.
He came closer, closer, a few feet away from her. Now a few inches. She tried to back away again, but in a quick movement he caught her wrist, drawing her closer to him. Her flesh burned where he held her, and her mind went entirely blank. She would have dropped her wineglass if the cowboy hadn’t slipped it from her limp hand and placed it on a server’s tray.
His expression was so intense that Trinity’s knees almost gave out. And those blue eyes—God, the way he was looking at her made her feel like he was making love to her right on the spot.
She tried to pull her wrist out of his iron grasp. “I—let go.”
The man shook his head, the look in his eyes possessive and untamed. “No, sugar,” he murmured, his liquid-hot Texan drawl flowing over her. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter 5
Sensual heat scorched Trinity in a rush. It shot up her thighs and waist, straight to her breasts, and on up to the roots of her hair. He had to be the one she’d seen getting out of the truck earlier. Even without the cowboy hat and duster, he seemed just as dark and dangerous. Maybe even more.
Dang, the man was tall and sexy. He had a strong, angular jaw line shadowed by dark stubble, and the most intense gaze that refused to let her go. God but he smelled good. Like the clean scent of soap, a hint of malt beer, and 100% Grade A male. The way the man was looking at her, she could just imagine his touch, his mouth—
Hold on. Who the heck did he think he was, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere?
Yet she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.
Like a deer trapped by headlights... only what had captured her was a pair of wicked blue eyes and a steel vise grip on her wrist. “You keep some hazardous company, sugar.”
“Excuse me?”
“Guerrero.” The man nodded in the direction Guerrero had taken. “All hat and no cattle—but lots of guns and drugs.”
The man’s expression faltered, as if he hadn’t meant to say exactly that. Then he seemed to come to some decision, and added, “Francisco Guerrero is a dangerous man. If I were you, I’d stay far away from him.”
The man’s expression was so earnest and fierce that Trinity actually felt a thrill of fear. “I—I never met him before tonight.”
The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?”
“Are you a detective or something?” Trinity studied the man, searching for any clue that might help her get a grip.
“I’m a ranch foreman,” he said, and Trinity almost laughed, despite the fact his fingers seemed to be burning straight into her skin.
“Yeah. At this party?”
His expression looked tense again. Very nearly rattled. He cleared his throat. “I’m standing in for my boss. Now, back to Guerrero. You think about what I said, sugar.” He smiled in a way that could be called nothing short of possessive. “Tell me your name.”
Trinity swallowed and mustered a defiant look. “Well, it’s not Sugar.” Her voice came out sounding small and hesitant, and she forced herself to put some muscle into her tone. “Let me go.”
“Name’s Luke Rider.” His firm mouth curved into a sensual smile that met his eyes, and she thought for sure her knees were going to just up and give out on her. “It’s most definitely my pleasure to meet you... sugar,” he drawled, sounding every bit as lawless as he looked.
Oh. My. God. Trinity MacKenna had never come across a man that she wanted to jump, then slap, then jump all over again the moment she’d met him.
Uh... uh... uh... Take me now. I’m yours.
Okay, she’d set a new record. She’d become a complete and total idiot in less than two minutes.
Luke (Armed and Dangerous Book 2) Page 3
