Seduced by Love, Claimed by Passion~Summer Box Set

by Helen Conrad

  She looked up at him, pushing her unruly hair out of her face. “Come on,” she said again, waving the gun toward the bathroom. Her eyes were cool, unworried. It was pretty obvious she didn’t have a clue what her hard, beautiful body was still doing to him.

  And it was equally obvious she didn’t feel a thing for him. He swore softly, more amazed than angry.

  “Come on,” she said again. “Let’s get this over with.” And her gaze flickered over him.

  Suddenly he realized he was nearly naked and he pulled the sheet back tightly around his hips once more, but it hardly seemed to matter any longer. He was defeated again—knocked out by a pair of legs any man would die for …and his own oversexed libido. She was in charge—for the moment. He was going to be doing what she said. At least, for now. And he hated it.

  Jackie watched him carefully. She knew one inattentive moment could cook her goose. He was strong and he was tough enough to take her in a fair fight. But she didn’t plan to play fair. You couldn’t play fair with most men. They were always after what they could get. But she had to admit, this one would have been a head turner in other circumstances. And she wasn’t one to fall for guys. She didn’t fall for anyone. She’d seen love and lust from the perspective of her four brothers, and it wasn’t a pretty picture. No way she was going to let life tie her up in knots like that.

  She just had to keep thinking about poor little Carrie Ann, waiting for this man to come and make an honest woman of her, and she would be alright. Carrie Ann wasn’t a blood relative, but ever since her parents had been killed in a horrible car accident, she’d lived with Jackie’s family, almost like a sister even though she was about five years younger. Nowadays she did the cooking and the cleaning at the house, which was just fine with Jackie. Cleaning wasn’t her thing and cooking was only fun when you got a good idea for something new—not when you had to shovel up the same old meat and potatoes in a timely manner for the hungry-as-wolves men in her family. And nobody ever wanted her to try anything new.

  Men! That was just one of the reasons she’d decided to avoid love. It always left women with the short end of the stick—so to speak. Or pregnant like poor Carrie Ann.

  And that was why she’d had to come and rustle up this Jason person, since he wasn’t coming in on his own. Carrie Ann had spent enough time moping around the kitchen, sighing and sniffing and showing off pictures of the dude—especially when Jackie’s brother Jeremy was around. For some reason, she loved to torture Jeremy with her complaints about Jason. So finally, Jackie and her brothers had got together and made a plan.

  “You guys get the preacher ready,” Jackie had said confidently. “I’ll bring in the jerk on my own.”

  Of course, her brothers had begun squabbling among themselves, totally ignoring what she’d said, because they didn’t think she could do it and they wanted to do it themselves. She’d listened and smiled and slipped away while they were still arguing. She knew something they didn’t—where Jason lived right now. And she meant to do the deed by herself. Serve them right.

  Brothers!

  CHAPTER TWO

  The most surprising thing to Michael was that no one seemed to find it strange that he should come walking out of an apartment building at three thirty in the morning with a woman dressed in tiny shorts and a torn shirt who obviously had a weapon with a towel wrapped around it jammed into his back. At least she’d let him put on jeans and a t-shirt, but he had to wonder if even his nakedness would have phased this town.

  People were wandering by and the street was full of cars. The casinos never slept. Men and women were coming home from late jobs or heading back from a night of gambling. They glanced over and glanced away. One man raised an eyebrow and gave a low, soundless wolf whistle after taking a gander at his captor’s legs. But no one turned a hair.

  Las Vegas, he decided, was the strangest city in the world.

  Before they’d left the apartment, he’d spent another ten minutes or so trying to convince her that he was not Jason, but to no avail. She laughed in his face and he couldn’t find anything in his suitcase to convince her. Meanwhile, she found all sorts of things that she added to her stack of evidence against him—mail addressed to Jason, an old and fuzzy picture signed by Jason that could have been Michael, a coffee mug with his name engraved in gold, even a speeding ticket in Jason ’s name. And there was nothing anywhere that said Michael. But how could there be? He’d only been in Las Vegas a few days, had brought only one small athletic bag of clothes—and cell phone and his wallet, both of which had now disappeared.

  “I think I should warn you,” he said over his shoulder as they walked out onto the sidewalk. “I’m due in Key West in a few days. I can’t really spend too much time on this little charade.”

  “Here we are,” she said, ignoring his words and nudging him toward an ancient green Camaro that sat waiting at the curb. “You’re going to drive.”

  He glanced back at her. She met his gaze and held it. An electric current sparked between them, something edgy and exciting. He was going to try for the gun again and they both knew it.

  But not now. Not yet. She handed him a key and he unlocked the passenger door, then walked around and unlocked the driver’s side. He hesitated. If he just walked away at this point, what could she do? He didn’t really believe she would shoot him. Not over a wedding.

  “Oh yes I would,” she said calmly, reading his mind as she leaned against the open door on the passenger’s side, waiting to slide in at the same time he did. “And I think I should warn you. I’ve won a ton of shooting contests. I’m a deadeye shot.”

  He stared back at her across the top of the car. She did look like something out of a thriller movie with her wide eyes and her wind-blown straw-yellow hair.

  “You’ve never shot a man before,” he said as though he knew it to be true.

  A grin began to curl her lip. “Oh yeah?” She raised the gun and propped it right there against the car for all the world to see—if only they cared. “Let’s see who’s right, you or me.”

  There was no fear in her, no uncertainty. He couldn’t get over it. He’d never known a woman like this before. She was as straight and true to her purpose as a marine charging up a beachhead. He had a sudden intuition: she would shoot him if she had to. Damn right, she would.

  “You win again,” he told her lightly, sliding on into the driver’s seat. “Now do you mind telling me where we’re going?”

  “You don’t need to know,” she told him as she settled into the passenger’s seat. “Just do what I tell you. Head on out the Strip until you see the freeway sign. Take the St. George route. Once we’re flying, I’ll tell you what to look out for next.” She waited a moment, then said, “Well, go on. Start the car.”

  He sighed and looked at her. Her face was cute and her hair was soft and casual and her body was made for things he could only dream of—and then there was this great big gun in her lap. It made no sense.

  He shrugged, looking at her. “This is really stupid and I feel like an imposter. Could you at least tell me what your name is?”

  She looked surprised. “Oh, didn’t I do that? Sorry. I’m Jackie Crosswell. I suppose you’ve probably heard about me.”

  He shook his head, feeling more and more at sea. “I don’t think so. Why? Are you famous?”

  She blinked at him. “No, silly. I just thought Carrie Ann might have mentioned me.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, never mind. Let’s get going.”

  But still he didn’t turn the key in the ignition. Instead he gave a half turn in his seat so that he could see her face fully when he asked his question. They seemed closer here in the confines of the car, cut off from the neon world on the street. He could almost feel her, smell her. It seemed exotic to have such a visceral reaction to the woman. Maybe, he decided, it was because of the heightened tension between them. Guns tended to do that.

  “Tell me one more thing, Jackie,” he said, staring hard into her eyes. “This is what
I really don’t understand. You obviously don’t know Jason, or you wouldn’t think I was him. Why the hell do you want to marry him?”

  “Marry you?” She stared at him, aghast. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last polecat left in captivity. You’re a lowdown sneaky skunk and I wouldn’t have you on a bet.”

  She reared back and spit the words out with clear conviction. There was not a doubt about her pure sincerity. He shook his head, bewildered. “Then who am I supposed to marry?”

  She made a gesture of impatience. “Carrie Ann, of course. She’s waiting for you right now. Let’s get going.”

  He threw up his hands, appealing to the heavens but not really hopeful of any relief. “I don’t know any Carrie Ann.”

  “Yeah, right. And I have leprechauns living in my refrigerator.”

  Turning in the seat, he put his hands on the wheel and shook his head. “See, that’s where we’re different. If you say so, I’ll believe you.”

  She nodded, taking it for granted. “Sure. I’m a trustworthy person.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Obviously, this was a waste of time and effort. Then another thought came to him.

  “But wait. Don’t you have to have a license ahead of time to get married?”

  “I told you. My daddy is sheriff. He can get things done. No problem.”

  No problem. Yeah, he knew all about that. He was known as a fixer in his own right. Sighing, he started the car, then headed out toward the black desert and a wedding they were late for.

  The car drove better than he’d expected, though it could have used a new muffler, and soon they were leaving the garish lights of the sleepless city in the rear view mirror. He glanced over at her. She was looking right back at him, the gun cradled comfortably in her lap.

  So close, and yet so far. He should be able to do something about this. It just didn’t seem right that a woman should be able to cart him off this way. His male pride was offended by the whole thing and he was glad there was no one around to see this.

  Just three days ago, he’d been working on Wall Street, lord of all he surveyed, acknowledged as the smartest, toughest attorney in his company, one who could keep a secret and face a Congressional hearing with aplomb. And now he was helpless, being carted across the dessert by a girl who talked like Annie Oakley. What the hell?

  But there had to be something he could do, short of lunging for the gun again. Maybe he could draw attention and get pulled over by the highway patrol.

  He pressed his foot down a little harder on the accelerator. A speeding ticket would be a small price to pay to get out of this crazy situation. Besides, he’d brought Jason’s wallet along, so the only I.D. he had with him was Jason’s. Let Jason pay the fine. God only knew what Jason was doing with Michael’s wallet at this very moment. Spending all his paper money—no doubt about it. The thing that made him cringe were the credit cards.

  “Jason, you bastard,” he muttered to himself. “You’re going to pay me back double for every stolen dollar.”

  “Stick to the speed limit,” she told him shortly. “Don’t try any cheap tricks. I’ve lived around sneaky men all my life. I know how to spot a wooden nickel.”

  “A wooden nickel?” he repeated mockingly. “Just how far out in the country do you people live?”

  “Don’t you worry about that. We’ve got TV and running water.” He could tell she was glaring at him even though he didn’t turn and look. “What else we have is a strain of that old time morality that you superior city slickers seem to have lost. We believe in facing the consequences of our actions.”

  Now she was preaching to him. He’d had enough of that from Julia, his ex-fiance—though the topics had been different. Julia’s lectures usually involved why he should be nicer to people he detested, just because they had money or influence that might come in handy some day. That was one thing he promised himself in his new life—he would never suck up to someone he hated ever again.

  And what would Julia say if she could see him caught up in this situation? He grinned to himself. He could hear her now. One look at Jackie and he knew exactly what she would say.

  “Oh my, those tacky short shorts. Unacceptable. No, my dear, they’ll have to go.”

  He glanced over at them, at those tacky, tacky shorts, and at her long, lovely legs. He’d never known he was this susceptible to legs before. But then, he’d never known a woman with legs like this. Just a quick glimpse and he was squirming in his seat again, rolling down the window to get some air. And losing focus. Forget the legs, he told himself sternly. He had to keep on track.

  “Let me get this straight,” he said to Jackie in a defensive tone. “Just because Jason had a fling with this Cassie Ann…”

  “Carrie Ann.” She gave a little snort. “Nice try.”

  “Okay. Carrie Ann. Just because they had a little romance and Carrie Ann got ideas he’d made certain promises….”

  “You seem to know a lot about it for someone who wasn’t involved.”

  He threw her a baleful look. “It’s a pretty common story. Anyway, why does that mean Jason has to marry her? Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he fell out of love.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to take responsibility for the baby, you mean.”

  “Baby?” He swerved as he turned to look at her, and quickly readjusted the wheel to get back in his lane. “What baby?”

  “You know very well Carrie Ann is pregnant. She came and told you often enough.” She sighed. “And then came back home crying. I can’t understand how a man can be so cruel.”

  He spent the next few minutes swearing under his breath at his cousin. But he had to admit, this didn’t really surprise him. Jason had been bad news all his life. He was a fun guy to pal around with, but you couldn’t trust him out of your sight. Which brought him right back to what he was still worrying about. Why had he taken Michael’s wallet with him, instead of his own? Michael didn’t for a moment think it had been an accident.

  He glanced at Jackie again. She’d reached for something from a purse that was stashed under the seat and she’d almost let the gun slip to the floor. For the first time, he saw a chink in her incredible competence. Maybe there was hope that she’d forget about the weapon at some point and give him the opening he needed.

  “Don’t you think you ought to sit in the back where you could really keep control of me?” he asked, more to needle her than to offer a real suggestion.

  She shook her head, her grasp firmly on the gun again. “I don’t have to worry about that because I’ve got the power,” she said, patting it.

  He kept his eyes on the road. She was definitely asking to be teased and he was glad to oblige. “You’ve got the power now.”

  She turned toward him in the seat. “Why would that change?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Things change all the time. Nothing stays the same in this old world.” He gave her a wide, cynical smile. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you about burning your bridges?”

  She seemed startled. “Burning my what?”

  “Bridges. Bridges.” He glanced sideways at her. “What did you think I said?”

  She laughed, a quick, gurgling sound, like a mountain brook. “I thought you said britches.”

  He laughed too. “What the hell would you be doing, burning your britches?”

  “That’s what I was wondering.”

  He turned and their gazes met and held for a long second, and then he had to turn his attention back to the road. No good, he was thinking. No laughing together. This is not a social situation.

  But he had to admit, she seemed awfully relaxed for someone who was holding a gun on a man. He supposed he could take it as evidence of how tame a threat she felt he posed to her. But that was good, he told himself. Maybe she would let her guard down.

  “Yeah, and maybe if we tied one arm behind her back I would have a chance at getting that gun away from her,” he told himself caustically. His track record was nothing to brag abo
ut so far. And that really galled him.

  “Anyhow,” she was saying, “my mama didn’t have time to teach me about burning anything. She died when I was five.”

  The tone was matter-of-fact, but that only made it worse. He felt a pang of sympathy for her and quickly tried to snuff it out. This woman was kidnapping him, for God’s sake. He might be in lust with her, but he didn’t want to like her.

  “You’re kidding. So you really did grow up in a house full of men? No sisters?”

  “No sisters. I hardly even knew any girls very well until my brothers started bringing them home. And they were mostly a bunch of sissies.”

  No doubt, he thought ruefully. It must have been difficult for the brothers to find any other girls like this one.

  “You know,” she told him, getting chatty. “You’re just lucky that I’m the one who found you.” She pulled her legs up and tucked them into a cross-legged position in the big leather bucket seat. He could see her doing it out of the corner of his eye, and he wanted to look. It took all his strength to keep his eyes glued to the road ahead. “If one of my brothers had found you,” she went on, “you wouldn’t be looking so pretty.”

  Pretty? Could he take that as a compliment? Probably not. “Why would your brothers have found me?”

  “They were looking for you, too. All of us were. We were all over Las Vegas. We each took a different address. Carrie Ann says you move around a lot.” She grinned. “I just got lucky.”

  Jason did move around a lot. From what Michael had gathered, he spent a lot of time getting kicked out of apartments.

  “I don’t think it would have gone too bad for you if Troy or Craig found you. But if Jeremy had gotten his hands on you, he would have considered it his duty to make you pay for every time you made Carrie Ann cry.”