by Lori Foster
“Eight years,” Emma supplied, unwilling to hear him say any more. Close? The only closeness had been in her head and in her dreams. Dredging up her manners, Emma held out her hand and prayed the darkness would hide her slight trembling. “I’m Emma Clark, and this is my friend, Damon Devaughn.”
With a look of suspicion, the redhead released Casey to shake hands politely with both Emma and Damon. “Kristin Swarth.”
“It’s delightful to meet you,” Damon murmured, and Kristin’s frown lifted to be replaced by a coy smile. Damon had charisma in spades and the ladies always soaked it up.
Though Damon had no problem warming up to Kristin, he didn’t treat Casey with the same courtesy. The second she’d first said Casey’s name, Damon had gone rigid and he hadn’t relaxed again.
Now, at the introduction, Casey eyed Damon anew, then drew the woman a little closer. “Kristin and I work together.”
It wasn’t easy, but Emma managed another smile. “I hope we’re not interrupting your plans?”
“Not really.” Casey gave her a lazy look. “I was just about to take Kristin home.”
At the word home, B.B. let out a friendly woof, and Emma laughed. “I’m sorry, I almost forgot. This is my pal, B.B.”
With a wide grin, Casey hunkered down in front of the big dog. “Hello, B.B.”
Using noticeable caution, the dog sauntered forward, did some sniffing, and then licked Casey’s hand. Emma had almost forgotten how good Casey’s family was with animals, Casey included. His Uncle Jordan was even a vet, but they all loved animals and were never without a menagerie of pets.
“Where’d you come up with the name B.B.?”
Emma chuckled, her tension easing with the topic. B.B. was her best friend, her comrade in arms when necessary, her confidant. They’d comforted each other when there was no one else, and now it often seemed B.B. could read her mind. “Big Boy,” she explained, and B.B. barked in agreement.
“He’s a gorgeous dog.” Casey stroked along B.B.’s muscled back, then patted his ribs. “How old is he?”
Damon answered for her, his gaze speculative as he watched man and dog bonding. “We’re not sure, but probably about nine or so. He was young when Emma got him, more a ball of fur with nothing big about him, other than his appetite.”
Emma quickly elbowed Damon, hard. A history of how she’d gotten the dog was the last thing she wanted discussed. She didn’t mean for Casey to witness that prod, but when she glanced down at him, their gazes clashed and held. He didn’t say anything, and that was a relief. When she got Damon alone, she’d choke him.
As Casey scratched the dog’s head and rubbed his ears, Emma absorbed the sight of him. It seemed impossible, but eight years had only made him better—taller, stronger, more handsome. As a teen, he’d been an unqualified stud. As a grown man—wowza.
The gentle evening breeze ruffled his dark-blond hair, and his brown eyes caught and held the moonlight. He wore dark slacks and a dress shirt that fit his wide shoulders perfectly. Emma forced her gaze away. It was beyond dumb for her to be ogling him.
The car behind him was, amazingly enough, also a Mustang, but surely a much newer, ritzier model. Emma nodded at the car, trying to see it clearly in the shadows of the night. “Black or blue or green?”
Keeping his hand on B.B.’s head, Casey straightened. “What?”
“Your car.”
He swiveled his head around and looked at the car as if he’d never seen it before. “Black.”
“Mine is red and in desperate need of a water pump. If you’re heading into town, do you think you could direct someone this way? Or is there even road service in the area yet?”
Casey shook his head. “Hell no. If you call Triple A it’ll take them at least a couple of hours to get out here to you.”
Emma groaned. She was dead on her feet and anxious to get settled. All she wanted to do was shower, eat and sleep, in that order. She’d already stopped at the hospital on the way into town. Damon had kept an eye on B.B., letting him walk about on the grounds while she’d spoken briefly with the nurses before visiting her father.
He’d looked so old and frail, and hadn’t registered her visit. She’d wanted to touch him, to reassure herself that he was alive, stable. But she’d held back. Since the doctor was due to see him again in the early morning, she planned to be there so she could get a full update on his prognosis.
Casey moved closer to her again. “The garage is closed for the night, too. That hasn’t changed. We still roll up the sidewalks by nine. But I can give you both a ride into town if you want.”
Emma looked at Damon. He lounged back against the car and smiled his sexiest smile. “We’ll be staying at the Cross Roads Motel. Is that too far off?”
Casey cocked one eyebrow and gave Emma an assessing look. “You’re not staying with your mother?”
“No.” Just the thought of seeing her mother again, of being back in the house where her life had been so miserable, made Emma’s stomach churn. Because Casey couldn’t possibly understand her reserve, she scrambled for reasons to present to him, but her wits had gone begging. It didn’t help that Damon was deliberately provoking Casey, suggesting an intimate relationship that didn’t exist. “The house is small, and my mother… Well, I, ah, thought it’d be better if…”
Before she could say any more, Damon was there. “We’ve been driving for hours,” he interjected smoothly, “and we’re both exhausted. Just let us grab a few things and we can stop holding you up.”
Casey frowned. “You’re not holding me up.”
“I need to be going,” Kristin said, clearly miffed by the turn of events and the way everyone ignored her. Her tone turned snide and her eyes narrowed on B.B. “But I have my cat in the car and she doesn’t like strangers. She especially doesn’t like dogs. Casey, you know she’ll have a fit if we try to put another animal in there with her. Besides, there’s not room for everyone.”
Casey turned to Emma with a shrug. “I’m afraid she’s right. Kristin treated me to dinner because I agreed to help her move.”
Laying a hand on his chest, Kristin turned her face up to his. “You know that wasn’t my only reason.”
Casey countered her suggestiveness with an inattentive hug. “We’ve got the last load in the car now. The floor and the backseat are already packed.”
Damon brought Emma a little closer, and no one could have missed the protectiveness of his gesture. Emma refrained from rolling her eyes, but it wasn’t easy. She was the last woman on earth in need of protection, but Damon refused to believe that.
“No problem.” The baring of Damon’s teeth in no way resembled a smile. And if Emma didn’t miss her guess, he was relieved to send Casey away. She only wished she felt the same. “Perhaps you could call us a cab, then?”
“No cabs in Buckhorn. Sorry.” Reflecting Damon’s mood, Casey looked anything but sorry by that fact. “And you know, if you don’t get to the Cross Roads soon, you’ll get locked out.”
“Locked out?”
“Yep.” Casey transferred his gaze to Emma—and his eyes glittered with a strange satisfaction. “Emma, you remember Mrs. Reider? She refuses to get out of bed to check people in after midnight.” He lifted his wrist to see the illuminated dial on his watch. “That gives you less than fifteen minutes to make it there.”
The beginning of a headache throbbed in Emma’s temples. She rubbed her forehead, trying to decide what to do. “It was difficult enough convinc
ing her that B.B. wouldn’t be a problem.”
Casey lifted an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you could convince her. She’s not big on pets.”
“Paying a double rate did the trick. And I just know she’ll still charge us if we don’t make it there on time. Her cancellation policy is no better than her check-in policy.”
Casey’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “She’s the only motel in town. She can afford to be difficult.”
“Damn.” Damon started to pace, which truly showed his annoyance, since Damon normally remained cool in any situation.
Casey stopped him with a simple question. “Can you drive stick?”
Somewhat affronted, Damon said, “Of course.”
“Great.” Casey pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Damon, who caught them against his chest. “Why don’t you take Kristin on home? The Cross Roads Motel is on the way. You can stop and check in, get your room keys, and then after you get Kristin unloaded, you can come back for us.”
Damon idly rattled the keys in his palm, looking between Casey and Emma. “Us?”
“I’ll stay here with Emma and B.B.”
Emma nearly strangled on her own startled breath. Seeing Casey so unexpectedly had unnerved her enough. No way did she want to be alone with him. Not yet. “I can drive a stick.”
B.B. looked at her anxiously and took an active stance. His muscles quivered as if he might leap after her if she tried to leave.
“Right.” Damon sent her a look. “And you really think he’ll stay alone with me on an empty street while you ride off with a stranger? He’ll have a fit. Hell, he’d probably chase the car all the way into town. It’d be different if we were at the motel and you left, but out here…”
“Okay, okay.” Damon was right. B.B. was so defensive of her, she often wondered if he hadn’t been a guard dog in another life.
“Besides,” Damon added, further prodding her, “the room is held on my credit card.” He stared at Emma hard, undecided, then abruptly shook his head. “Hell no. Let’s forget this. It’s already late, so what’s a few more hours? We can wait for Triple A and then find a motel back on the highway to stay in for the night.”
Emma gave that idea quick but serious thought, and knew the only reasonable thing to do was to stop acting like a desperate ninny. She couldn’t imagine finding another motel that would allow her to bring B.B. inside. Besides, Damon had driven most of the hours, and despite his suggestion, he looked exhausted. B.B. wasn’t in much better shape.
She’d stopped being selfish long ago.
“It’s all right, Damon.” She gave him a smile to reassure him. “I’m beat and so are you. You go on, and B.B. and I’ll wait here.”
Kristin crossed her arms and struck a petulant pose. “Don’t I get a vote on this?”
Casey spared her a glance. “Not this time.” Then he added, “And, honey, don’t pout.” He walked her to the car, his large hand open on the small of her back, urging her along while he spoke quietly in her ear.
Damon used that moment to pull Emma aside. He practically shoved her behind the open driver’s door and then bent close. “Dear God,” he muttered, holding his head. “I can understand why he became your adolescent hero, Emma. He’s testosterone on legs.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh at Damon’s look of distaste. He wasn’t into the whole machismo display. Damon was far too refined for that, a man straight out of GQ. He also knew exactly how to lighten her mood. Not that he was wrong, of course. If anything, Casey was more ruggedly masculine now than he’d ever been.
Emma decided to tease him right back. “I hate to break it to you, Damon, but he’s obviously into women.”
Refusing to take the bait, Damon glanced over at Kristin with critical disdain. “I’m into women. He’s obviously into twits. There is a difference.”
Casey and Kristin were still in quiet conversation, their bodies outlined by the reaching glow of the car lights. “You really think so?”
“That she’s a twit? Absolutely.”
“No, I didn’t mean that.” She swatted at him and stifled a laugh. “I mean, do you think they’re a couple?”
“Worried?”
Damon knew better. She wouldn’t be in Buckhorn long enough to get worried about Casey and whom he might or might not be involved with. Probably his girlfriends were too many to count, anyway. Until he’d turned sixteen, Casey had been raised in an all-male household. Sawyer and his three brothers had been the most eligible, respected and adored bachelors in Buckhorn. One by one they’d married off, starting with Casey’s father. But Casey had inherited a lot of their appeal and long before Emma had left town, the females had been chasing him. “Only curious. I haven’t seen him in so long.”
Damon’s look plainly said yeah, right. “I think he wants to be into her, if you need true accuracy. Whether or not he likes her—who knows?” Then he added with more seriousness, “You know to most men, liking and wanting have nothing in common.”
That was Damon’s staunchest requirement. He had to genuinely like and respect a woman to decide to sleep with her. Intelligence sat high on his list, as did motivation and kindness. The second a woman got gossipy or catty, he walked away. Unlike many of the men she’d known through the years, Damon wasn’t ruled by his libido. Emma respected him for that, even while she knew he’d be a tough man to please.
Again Emma chuckled, but her humor was cut short as Casey called, “You ready to go?”
Damon ignored him as he cupped Emma’s face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Too fast, doll. That was nothing more than an automatic answer.”
“But true nonetheless.”
He waggled her head. “Just be on guard, okay? I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I’m not made of glass,” she chided.
“No, it’s sugar I think.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, nipped her knuckles and said, “Yep, sugar.”
Emma was well used to that teasing response—he’d been saying it to her since she was seventeen years old, when they’d first met. She’d been backward, afraid, alone. And he’d treated her like a well-loved kid sister.
Laughing, she turned toward the other car, and caught the censure on Casey’s face. He didn’t say a word, but then he didn’t have to. She knew exactly what he thought. And none of it was nice.
Worse, none of it was accurate.
CHAPTER THREE
EMMA STOOD IN front of her car, watching Damon and Kristin drive away. With their departure, the previously calm evening air suddenly felt charged. She was aware of things she hadn’t noticed before, like the warm, subtle scent of Casey’s cologne, the nearly tactile touch of his watchfulness. The pulsing rhythm of her own heartbeat resounded everywhere, in her chest, her ears, low in her belly.
B.B. shifted beside her, restless and uncertain with this turn of events and her renewed tension.
Though he didn’t make a sound, she knew Casey was now closer behind her. As if he’d touched her, she shivered in reaction, and continued to stare after the car.
“So how’ve you been, Em?” His voice was low and intimate, a rough whisper of sound somewhere above her right ear.
The twin taillights of the other car faded away, swallowed up by distance and fog, the inky blackness of the night. Left with nothing to stare at, Emma drew a deep breath, took two steps away and turned to him with a bland smile. “Goo
d. And yourself?”
“Good.” He visually caressed her face, slowly, thoroughly, as if he’d never seen her before. As if maybe he’d…missed her.
Emma moved to the side of the car, taking herself out of the harsh beams of the headlights. The dog followed and she leaned down to give him a reassuring pat. When she straightened, Casey was even closer than before and he made no attempt to move away. She felt vaguely hunted.
“You look so different, Em.”
She wasn’t about to back away a second time. Faking a calm that eluded her, she shrugged. “Eight years different.”
“It’s not your age,” he murmured, once again looking her over in that scrutinizing way of his. “Your hair is different.”
Emma started to reply, but the words hung in her throat as Casey reached out and caught a shoulder-length tress, rubbing it between fingers and thumb.
Both breathless and a little indignant, she tossed her head so that her hair fell behind her shoulders. That didn’t deter Casey. He simply drew it forward again, making her frown. He was bolder than she remembered.... No, that wasn’t true. He’d always been bold—with the girls he’d wanted.
He just hadn’t ever wanted her.
“I don’t bleach it anymore.” Despite being annoyed, awareness trembled in her belly, sang through her veins. “This is my real color.”
His long fingers tunneled in close to her scalp, warm and gentle, then lifted outward, letting the silky strands drift back into place. “I can’t see it that well here in the shadows.”
Her breath came too fast. “Light brown.”
“I never really understood why you lightened it.” He stroked her hair again, totally absorbed in what he did, unmindful or uncaring of her discomfort. “Or why you wore so much makeup.”
She refused to apologize for or explain about her past. That was one of the things Damon had taught her—to forget about what she couldn’t change and only look forward. “I thought it looked good at the time, but then, I was only seventeen and not overly astute.”
