by Unknown
She turned and pushed the exit door open and walked into the cold Denver afternoon. Snow swirled in the air, flakes landing on her hair, face, and clothing. Her mind worked over the disturbing incident. She had no idea why the dog had reacted that way, but it unsettled her to the point she had a hard time shaking it off.
By the time she was in her rental car, she had calmed from the experience. Things didn’t bother her for long—it had to be something serious to keep her down, and that had not been the case.
She decided she needed some “peppy” music while she drove, so she turned on OneRepublic and sang to Life in Color, Counting Stars, and Love Runs Out, followed by Good Life again. She might not have the best voice, but she still sang out loud and bounced to the music as she drove.
It was only ten to fifteen minutes, depending on traffic, to the place she was staying. By the time the fourth song started playing, she reached the hotel and pulled into the snowy parking lot. She drove around, trying to find a space, singing Good Life at the top of her lungs.
A woman stepped out from between two vehicles and walked in front of Natasha’s rental car.
Natasha’s singing turned into a cry as she slammed on her brakes. The wheels locked and the car slid on the icy asphalt toward the woman.
A man appeared from nowhere. He grabbed the woman by the arm and jerked her out of the way. The vehicle came to a hard stop where the woman had been standing seconds before.
Natasha couldn’t catch her breath and she was certain she was going to hyperventilate. She didn’t allow herself to take a few moments to recover. Instead, she turned off the car, leaving the keys dangling. She flung open the door and climbed out, almost slipping on the ice as she hurried to the woman.
The tall man, who wore a cowboy hat, was standing next to the petite woman who had to be in her late twenties. She was gorgeous with white-blonde hair and big blue eyes that were narrowed at Natasha.
Natasha reached the man and woman. She was breathless as she asked the woman, “Are you okay?”
The young woman glared at Natasha before her expression shifted and she smiled at the man who’d saved her. “I’m fine. Thanks to this fine gentleman.”
Feeling flustered, her face hot, words rushed from Natasha as she looked at the man. “Thank you so much. I didn’t see her until she stepped out from between those cars and when I slammed on the brakes the tires slid on the ice and I could have hit her and hurt her or worse, and oh, my God—” She sucked in her breath as she ran out of air.
The man put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. His touch calmed her. “Everything is all right, Natasha. She’s fine. You’re fine.”
Natasha opened her mouth to say more, then clamped her jaws. He’d just said her name. How did he know who she was? She stared at him and realized he was vaguely familiar. She’d seen him somewhere before, yet she couldn’t remember where or when. Maybe she went to school with him? Or maybe he was one of the many people she’d met at one of the trade shows? Someone she’d run across in Indiana or maybe Bisbee? Surely she’d remember him. He was freaking hot.
The younger woman scowled. “You two know each other?”
“No,” Natasha said at the same time the man said, “Yes.”
“I have to go.” The woman’s scowl vanished as she looked into the eyes of the man while she took a business card from her purse. “I’m Patricia. I’m meeting a client now, but let’s have a drink later. I would like to thank you properly.” Before the man could say anything in response, Patricia took his free hand and pressed the card into his palm. She folded his fingers over the card. “Call me. My cell number is on the front.”
Patricia glared one more time at Natasha before turning and heading toward the front of the hotel. Somehow she managed to walk in high heels on the wet salted sidewalk without wobbling. Natasha had the sudden uncharitable desire to see the woman fall on her ass on the concrete.
Natasha released the thought. It wasn’t like her to think that way, and she didn’t want to start now.
As the woman marched toward the hotel’s big brass and glass doors, all Natasha could think to say was, “I can’t believe I almost hit her.”
“Are you all right?” The stranger, or semi-stranger, took her by both shoulders, his touch steading her. “You look a little pale.”
“And you look familiar.” She tilted her head to the side. “You know my name. Where have we met before?”
“I’m Brooks Allen.” He gave the kind of grin that made a woman’s knees go weak. “I was best man at Trace and Christie’s wedding. You were a maid of honor.”
Natasha slapped her gloved palm to her forehead. “Of course. Brooks.” She lowered her hand. “I guess I’m a little shaken up or I would have put two and two together.”
“Why don’t I park your car and then we’ll head to the lounge and have a drink?” He released her shoulders. “I think you need to relax.”
The adrenaline that had kicked in the moment she slammed on the brakes started to fade. She felt like she was coming down hard, and reality was setting in.
She rarely drank anything alcoholic, but she found herself saying, “I could use a double mojito.” When she did it, she did it up good.
“You’ve got it.” He smiled and gestured to the car. “Keys still in the ignition?”
She nodded.
While Brooks moved the car to a parking space, she shivered off to the side. The cold nipped at her face, but it was no doubt the near miss that had her shaking. She took a deep breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth. It was a “reset” exercise, relaxing her a little, and clearing her brain. She’d been taught that years ago by a therapist/life coach, and it helped.
Brooks parked close, and she met him at the car as he climbed out. He moved aside and she leaned over the driver’s seat and grabbed her purse from the passenger side before stepping back and letting him close the door.
“Do you have anything else you need to take in?” He handed her the car keys.
They almost slipped from her gloved fingers before she pressed the lock button on the fob and then dropped the keys into her purse. “I checked in yesterday, so I’m set.”
“Let’s get you that Long Island iced tea.” He gave a nod in the direction of the hotel.
She took another “reset” breath. “I’m ready.”
He pressed his palm against the small of her back. His touch, despite the coat, gave her a heady feeling that heated her from head to toe.
While they walked toward the beautiful hotel’s doors, she pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into one of her pockets. It was nippy, but she’d be inside soon enough, and would warm up.
Gradually, she calmed and started to feel more like herself. She took yet another reset breath and relaxed even more. Sometimes she had to repeat the exercise a few times to get to the point where she completely relaxed.
She had to tilt her head a little to look up at the man who had saved the woman. Natasha found herself taking in his strong features that his western hat didn’t shadow, and the power in every movement he made. The hat shaded his eyes, so she couldn’t tell what color they were, but she could see the intensity of his gaze by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.
He wore a brown leather bomber jacket and she leaned back just enough to see his nice tight ass, molded by the dark blue Wrangler jeans he wore. There was just something about cowboy butts that drove a woman wild.
Dang, but Christie had great taste. Ironically, this was the man she’d wanted to set up with Natasha.
Natasha decided she wouldn’t mind one darn bit spending some time with Brooks to get to know him. A lot more of him.
CHAPTER 4
The doorman opened the large brass door, the clear glass sparking clean, and Brooks escorted Natasha through the entrance. After looking at so many surveillance photos of her, he had her features memorized, as well as her body. The coat hid the full curves of her breasts and her lithe form.
She
looked a lot like Christie, with the exception of her long dark hair that was currently pulled away from her face. Yet there were clear differences in each one’s bearing, expression, and in their eyes.
Natasha had the same shade of blue eyes as Christie, but there was a different light, a spark that set her apart. He’d seen it in the photos and he wedding, and he saw it now, even though she’d almost mowed down a pedestrian.
Speaking of the pedestrian—he would drop her card in a waste can later. Last thing he needed was the woman coming on to him.
Natasha had already taken off her gloves and had unzipped her jacket. Brooks stepped in front of her, bringing her to a halt. “Let me help you with your coat.”
She raised her brows, a smile touching her lips. “A true gentleman? In this day and age?”
He couldn’t help a grin. “That’s how my mama raised me.”
“I like your mom already.” Natasha turned and slipped her arms from her sleeves.
He folded her coat over one arm before he touched her waist again, guiding her toward the lounge. He liked to touch her, liked how warm she felt through her shirt beneath his fingertips.
Damn. He was letting his attraction for the woman get ahead of him and that wasn’t a good way to be thinking right now. She was a suspect. He was supposed to get close, but not that close.
They reached the lounge that had two long couches and several overstuffed armchairs. Guests relaxed in the comfortable-looking chairs, the cushions in shades of taupe and brown. A bartender used a white cloth to rub the gleaming mahogany bar top, before reaching for a martini glass amidst stemware hanging from polished wood racks above. The glass sparkled in strategically placed lighting. He reached for a bottle of Grey Goose that sat among countless bottles of alcohol that shone in the reflection of the mirrored wall behind it.
Brooks gestured to a pair of chairs in one corner with a small round table between them. “That looks like a nice quiet spot.”
She glanced at him and smiled, and it was like a glow lit her features from within. She was so vibrant, so damn beautiful.
He could barely keep himself from clenching his jaw in frustration. He had to stop noticing things that made him want to steal her away from what she was involved in and make love to her six ways ’til Sunday.
Jesus.
A puzzled expression dimmed her beauty. “Is everything all right?”
He forced as natural a smile as he could muster. “Perfect.”
They reached the chairs and he waited until she was seated before he took his own. She set her purse on the floor beside the chair and crossed her slender jean-covered legs, the denim hugging her shapely thighs and calves. She adjusted her white top and brushed something from the hem.
She reached up and pulled something rainbow-colored from her hair, one of those things his younger sisters used—scrunchies, he thought they called them. Natasha shook her hair free and let it fall around her shoulders. It was a beautiful mass of dark brown hair that flowed in shining soft waves to the top of her breasts.
As she leaned to drop the scrunchie into her purse, he had to struggle not to stare at her generous breasts. They appeared large, even behind the loose top, in comparison to her slender frame.
She straightened and bounced one boot-clad foot and he wondered if it was adrenaline from almost hitting the woman in the parking lot. Or was it just nervous energy? She was so beautiful, a beauty that shone from within as well as out.
He looked away, desperately needing to get his attention off the woman and back to his job. He rested her coat over the arm of his chair before shrugging out of his own jacket.
“I’ll take my coat.” Gold bracelets slid down her arm as she reached out one hand. He noticed a butterfly-shaped watch on her other wrist.
He handed the coat to her and she folded it and rested it on top of her purse before relaxing in her seat. For a moment he saw exhaustion in her eyes and she looked like the seat was going to swallow her up.
“Long day?” He set his own jacket over the right arm of his chair before removing his Stetson and setting it on top of the jacket. Natasha was to his left.
“Katy at your service.” A server interrupted as she looked from Brooks to Natasha. “You both look like you could do with a little relaxing and something in your tummies.”
Natasha grinned and her exhaustion seemed to drain away. “Mojito. Vodka instead of rum, and super sweet. Make it a double, please.”
“I’ll have Carl make it sweet enough your teeth will ache.” Katy turned to Brooks as Natasha grinned. “And you, kind sir?”
“That’s something I don’t remember being called.” Brooks laughed. “I’ll take a Maker’s Mark on the rocks.”
“You’ve got it.” Katy smiled before she was off like a whirling dervish.
“Where were we?” Natasha shifted on the seat as she met Brooks’s gaze.
He settled back in his chair. “I asked you if you had a long day. I should have asked you why you’re in Denver, too.”
“WESA. It’s a tradeshow.” She blew out her breath. “It’s always a lot of work preparing for the event. If I had any employees helping me it might be another story, but it’s something I do on my own.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why are you in Denver?”
“I’m doing some training at the local DHS office.” He moved one forearm on the chair’s padded arm that didn’t have the hat and coat resting on it. “Department of Homeland Security.”
“I’m familiar with it.” She nodded. “You work with Trace, Christie’s husband, in Douglas. The DHS’s ICE office.”
He gave a nod. “I’ve known Trace for some time now.”
“Amazing that you ended up at the same hotel that I’m at.” She smiled. “Fate works in strange ways.”
He raised a brow. “Fate?”
“Of course.” She grinned. “Everything happens for a reason, including the different ways someone comes into your life, whether for a moment, a season, or a lifetime.”
“Like the woman you almost hit?” He couldn’t resist teasing her even as he wondered if she was coming on to him.
Natasha groaned and flopped back in her chair. “You might say I’m a little accident prone.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’ve had more than one car accident?”
She straightened in her seat. “My greatest feat was managing to crash into the top floor of a two story home. Try explaining that one.”
“Your car ended up in the upper floor?” Concern for her had him furrowing his brow.
She nodded. “I was driving on an icy winding road in the middle of the night. There were homes below the road. I hit a patch of black ice and next thing I knew I was flying off the edge of the road and crashing into a home.”
“Jeez.” He studied her as if he might see some kind of injury. “Were you hurt?”
“A little bruised, but nothing bad.” She blew out her breath. “It was a summer home, so the people who owned it were at their winter place in Florida. I say thank you to the stars every time I think of it. If they’d been there, they would probably have been sleeping upstairs.”
He shifted in his seat. “That must have been scary as hell.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She gave a little smile. “It does make for some interesting dinner conversation.”
“That’s the truth.” He looked up as the server arrived with their drinks on a tray that she held in one hand.
Katy set a cocktail napkin and the mojito on the table between Brooks and Natasha, then another napkin and the Maker’s Mark close to Brooks. Katy looked at Natasha. “Sweet enough to put you into a diabetic coma.” She flicked her gaze from Natasha to Brooks and back. “Appetizers?”
“I haven’t even glanced at the menu.” Natasha cocked her head to the side. “Do you have a cheese and cracker plate?”
Katy held the tray in front of her. “It includes prosciutto.”
“I’m starving.” Natasha put one hand over
her belly. “I’ll have an order of that—but minus the meat. I’m a vegetarian.”
Brooks wasn’t surprised that Natasha didn’t eat meat.
Katy turned to him. He’d scanned the menu as Natasha told the server what she wanted. He ordered a plate of garlic fries. The server smiled and promised to return with their orders shortly.
Brooks turned his gaze back to Natasha as she sipped her mojito. “What happened the day of Christie and Trace’s wedding?”
“Oh, that.” Natasha picked up her mojito. “I was driving around the roundabout.” There was only one in Bisbee, so Brooks knew what she was referring to. “I missed a yield sign and flew right into the path of a big truck with tires practically as high as the top of my car.”
“Damn,” Brooks said as Natasha sipped her drink. “I seem to remember Christie saying you broke your leg.”
“Shattered the bones in my lower leg. It wasn’t pretty.” Natasha shook her head. “I’m just grateful no one else was hurt.” She looked a little sheepish. “The driver of the truck was pretty ticked off at me until he saw how badly the driver’s side door was smashed in and how I was pinned inside.” She sighed. “Of course my insurance paid for everything and my rates jumped even higher.”
“I take it you’ve had other accidents.” Brooks raised the Maker’s Mark.
“Bizarre things happen around me—I seem to draw them like a magnet.” She changed her voice to sound like an announcer at a football game. “Natasha ninety-two. Chance eight.”
Brooks almost spewed the sip of his drink at the way she said it. He recovered and swallowed before he laughed.
“Grandfather once said to me, ‘Natasha, you might as well never play the lottery.’” Natasha smiled. “I said, ‘Why, Grandpa?’ and he replied with ‘You waste all of your good luck getting out of all of your bad luck.’”
Natasha smiled as she continued. “I prefer to think of them as educational experiences, not bad luck.”
