Feeling The Heat

by Rhonda Nelson

  “Then what’s going on?”

  Part of the reason she’d hired Karen was for her persistence, but she wasn’t accustomed to having that dog-with-a-bone tenacity directed at her. Nevertheless, she’d enlisted Karen’s help and would be depending heavily upon her to hold down the fort during her absence over the next few days. At least, she hoped it was only a few days. Anything beyond that spelled defeat, a possibility she refused to even entertain.

  Georgia released a pent-up breath. “I’m going to be working with a bounty hunter over the next few days and I want to have a general idea of what to expect.”

  Karen dropped onto the couch and stared at her in apparent disbelief. “A bounty hunter?”

  Georgia nodded. The inevitable why would come shortly, so she took advantage of Karen’s momentary shock to load her plate with a helping of fried rice and sweet-and-sour chicken. Where was her egg roll? she wondered, pilfering through the take-out bag. She knew she’d ordered one. Dammit, if they’d forgotten her egg roll—

  “Okay, you got me. Why are you going to be working with a b-bounty hunter?”

  “He’s looking for Carter Watkins and it’s in my best interest to find him, as well.” That was the vague answer. She knew she’d have to pony up the complete truth, but even telling Karen—who admittedly was a good friend, if not her best friend—was absolutely mortifying. Her cheeks burned just thinking about it. Karen wouldn’t judge, she knew, and would be an instant ally, but even knowing that didn’t keep her from feeling enormously stupid.

  How in the hell could she have been such a poor judge of character? How could she have been so easily fooled? Had she been that desperate for a little romance—for what her parents had shared—that she’d overlooked obvious flaws? God help her, had she been that needy? She’d like to think that wasn’t the case, but she’d allowed a man into her home who’d stolen her most prized possession. She made a moue of self-disgust. Clearly she’d made a grievous mistake somewhere along the way.

  But no more.

  She would no longer be actively looking for love. After this final disastrous outcome, love would simply have to find her.

  Granted, being of the proactive nature, this would be a big change for her. For as long as she could remember, Georgia had been a goal-setter. Eyes on the prize and all that. In grade school it had been honor roll. In college, the dean’s list. In business, nothing short of getting her masters from Wharton would do. She’d built the most successful business of its kind in the area and was proud of her accomplishments.

  Though she’d inherited a modest fortune from her parents and grandparents, she’d wanted to make her own way. As such, other than the property on which her house stood, every penny that had gone into building her dream home had been made via the sweat of her brow, not someone else’s. For whatever reason, that had been incredibly important to her. Furthermore, with the exception of getting married and starting a family, it had been the last to-do on her life list.

  Under the mistaken impression that falling in love would be just as easy as getting her MBA, Georgia had set about dating with the same sort of single-minded zeal she had with everything else. Though she abhorred exercise, she’d joined a gym, a hot spot of many young professionals. She’d want the future father of her children to be healthy, after all.

  Next she’d enrolled in a couple continuing-education classes at the local university. A potential mate had to be smart. What better place to look?

  Finally, for the sake of convenience, she’d joined a couple of online dating sites, but after one horrible experience, she’d pulled her profile down from the site. When her single, mid-thirties, moderately attractive date had turned out to be a balding, married baby boomer in the throes of a midlife crisis, Georgia had deemed the online dating scene a bit too murky for her tastes.

  She’d met Carter at a local upscale bistro on the heels of the online dating fiasco and had dubbed the “organic” meeting as a sign of good luck. She inwardly snorted. Looking back, he’d no doubt been hanging out there, looking for an easy mark. He’d been handsome, charming, witty, well-dressed and seemingly educated. Georgia sighed. She’d ignored that little prickle of intuition that had told her he wasn’t the guy for her and soldiered on, determined to give him a chance.

  Having listened to her mother and father rhapsodize their love-at-first-sight story, she believed—and despite the disastrous outcome of her efforts—still believed that when she found the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with, she’d know. Love wouldn’t arrive on a gentle breeze, but would hurtle at her like a tsunami.

  And it would have to, because she was through trolling, surfing, scouting and searching.

  “I don’t understand,” Karen said, her brow knitting into a frown. “I thought you and Carter were through.”

  “We are.”

  “Then why are you and the bounty hunter looking for him?”

  Georgia swallowed a sip of tea, wishing it was something stronger. “The bounty hunter is looking for him because he skipped bail. I’m looking for him because—” Georgia stopped, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, summoning the courage to go on.

  Karen inhaled sharply and her eyes widened. “Ohmigod! You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “No!” Georgia told her, horrified. “I never slept with him, thank God.”

  Karen slumped and her expression became one of confusion. “Well if you aren’t pregnant, then why would you be looking for him?”

  “Because he took my mother’s ring,” she finally admitted, her throat tightening with emotion.

  Once again Karen’s eyes widened, first with shock, then with sympathy. “No,” she breathed. She grabbed Georgia’s hand, looking for the missing jewelry. “Oh, Georgia,” she tutted. Her eyes blazed. “That bastard. I never liked him.”

  A total lie—Karen had been every bit as fooled by Carter as she had—but Georgia wasn’t going to call her on it. What was the point? She related the details as she knew them to her friend and finished with the arrangement she’d made with Linc Stone. She smiled wanly and pulled a shrug. “He’s my only hope.”

  Karen grimaced and spun a mound of noodles onto her fork. “Sounds like you’ve pinned your hopes on an ass,” she said grimly. “A decent guy would have helped you without you having to plan a free wedding for his little sister.”

  “I don’t know,” Georgia hedged, surprised at her gut reaction to defend him. It was desperation, she told herself, unwilling to examine her motives any further. “I think he’s just used to working alone.”

  “Still, have a little compassion,” Karen insisted doggedly, unwilling to let it go. “Sheesh. I hope he’s good at what he does.”

  An image of Linc’s disturbingly sexy face suddenly materialized in her mind’s eye, causing a flutter of unwelcome, completely inappropriate heat to zigzag through her belly.

  He certainly looked like he’d be good at what he does, Georgia thought, releasing a small sigh. Those keen green eyes didn’t miss much and those muscles certainly hadn’t gotten there by accident. He clearly worked hard at staying in shape, and she didn’t get the impression that vanity wielded the whip prodding him to the gym. He didn’t have that pretty-boy, let-me-shave-all-the-hair-off-my-body-so-that-you-can-see-how-big-my-muscles-are thing going on. Frankly, any man who was more meticulous about shaving his legs than she was got marked off her list. Talk about intimidating. Geez. She had enough body image issues to worry about without putting a hair competition into the mix.

  No, like her, Linc Stone simply wanted to be the best—she’d recognized that too-familiar hunger the first time she’d seen him—and staying in shape was all part and parcel of being at the top of his game. And judging from those broad, muscled shoulders and sinfully ripped abs, anyone who tried to knock him off said game was in for one helluva fight. A little, surprisingly bloodthirsty thrill whipped its way through her at the mere thought, and she released a self-disgusted sigh. Hell, he wasn’t her gladiator, for pity
’s sake. What was wrong with her? Was all that über-testosterone getting to her already?

  Probably so, Georgia decided. Despite the fact that she should be exercising better sense and proper restraint—particularly in light of what had happened recently with Carter—Georgia couldn’t seem to keep from thinking about Linc Stone. Imagining him naked, specifically. To say that she was attracted to him would be a mild understatement. She wanted to run her hands over his chest, kiss the underside of his jaw—taste the salty essence of his skin—and breathe naughty words into his ear. Simply looking at him made her entire body shimmer with need.

  As for worrying about whether he was really good at what he did…Georgia wasn’t. The police officer she’d first talked to after she’d realized what Carter had done had put her fears to rest. He’d taken one look at the file—at who had issued the bond specifically—and just smiled. “You’re in luck, lady. AA Atco issued bail,” he’d said. “Whether he knows it or not, your guy is as good as caught. Those Stone boys don’t let anyone get away.”

  Georgia loaded Dog, The Bounty Hunter into her DVD player, snagged the remote control and determinedly settled in on her couch. Bogey and Bacall landed in her lap and Stitch curled in next to her hip, surrounding her with furry animal love.

  Those Stone boys don’t let anyone get away, she thought again.

  Good, because that was precisely what she was counting on.

  4

  LINC WHEELED HIS midsize standard black SUV into a parking space outside Georgia’s office and simply stared at the storefront, loath to go inside.

  Weddings With Hart fell firmly into “girly” territory, and any man who entered her establishment no doubt had to check his balls at the door. Of course, if he was going into her store, then more than likely his fiancé had already confiscated the stones in question and carried them around in her purse for safe keeping. A droll smile rolled across his lips and he absently thumped the steering wheel with his thumb.

  Just another reason he’d never tie the knot.

  He liked his balls attached to his body, thank you very much, and the only reason he planned to go into this particular store this morning was because he’d agreed to pick her up here.

  Big mistake, he realized now, his mouth going curiously dry. He should have met her at her house, or made her come back over to the bond office. Counterproductive, of course, because her office was the logical place to start. Carter had liked doing his business in Germantown—a trendy, moneyed area on Memphis’s front door—and most of the places they were going to scope out today were here in this area.

  Still…He couldn’t shake a pervading sense of doom, the sense that he was stepping into a minefield of sorts and one wrong move would leave him shattered and broken.

  Or worse, trapped, in a web made of tulle and a shower of rice.

  It was strange, Linc thought, because he’d never worried about anything like this before. He’d always been secure in the knowledge that he would remain single. The idea that he was annoyed meant he felt threatened and feeling threatened wasn’t pleasant. In fact, he hated it.

  White twinkle lights wound through twisting grapevines which had been strung around her windows and over her door. Dreaded tulle and lace dripped like wedding cake frosting from the ceiling and a luminous, frothy white dress with enough seed pearls and sequins to make a girl giddy stood as the perfect put-a-ring-on-my-finger-now! window dressing.

  From his vantage point in the car, he could see a lot of spindly-legged, gilded poofy furniture he was certain wouldn’t support his weight, pale pink flowers, pink velvet and satin and tiny crystal chandeliers. It was like a wedding dollhouse, Linc thought with a snort. Designed as every girl’s dream and every whipped guy’s unwitting web of matrimonial hell. And the smiling bride in her gown was like an overdressed, big white spider waiting right smack-dab in the middle of it all.

  He inwardly shuddered at the imagery and toyed with the idea of merely blowing the horn to alert her of his presence. He wouldn’t, of course, because it was crass. Furthermore, though his word had been reluctantly given, it had been given all the same. He said he would help her and had agreed to pick her up here.

  At the moment, he wasn’t exactly sure which had been the less intelligent decision of the two, but he’d deal with it in a gentlemanly fashion all the same. Linc bared his teeth in a smile and exited his truck. Why would he do that?

  Because he wouldn’t let a little discomfort make a liar out of him.

  The instant he opened the door, the intro to the “Wedding March” sounded, pushing his lips into a sneer of disgust. No doubt intended to bring a smile to a prospective bride’s face, all Linc heard was Doom, doom, do-doom. Doom, doom, do-doom.

  “Do you need some ointment for that?” a petite redhead with an unfortunate set of heavy freckles inquired with more sarcasm than solicitousness. She’d been seated behind a small, spindly legged desk when he walked in, but had stood.

  Linc resisted the urge to bat at the wispy fabric hanging mere inches from his head and quirked a brow. “Come again?”

  “Ointment,” she repeated, smiling. She wore a name tag bearing the name Karen. “You know, for the hives you’re about to break into.”

  “No, thank you,” he said, hating that he was that damned transparent. He made an effort to appear normal, which curiously annoyed him even more. “I’m here for Georgia. Is she around?”

  The redhead’s eyes and mouth rounded simultaneously. “Oh,” she breathed. “You must be the bounty hunter.”

  “Bond-enforcement agent, yes,” he confirmed with a brisk nod. Bounty hunter was an outdated term, but one that hung around with irritating tenacity. Much like Karen, he decided uncharitably, which was hardly fair. It wasn’t her fault he was in a bad mood.

  “Right,” she said. She cocked her head and gazed at him with blatant curiosity. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  He’d expected her to walk to the back, but instead she merely hollered in a singsongy kind of voice that instantly put him on edge. “Georgia, Mr. Stone’s here for you.” She smiled at him once more, crossed her arms expectantly over her chest and rocked back on her heels. “I’m sure she’ll be out here in a minute.”

  The sooner the better, Linc thought, resisting the pressing urge to fidget. Badass bounty hunters didn’t fidget, dammit. But between the intrigued I-know-something-that-you-don’t smile on Karen’s face and the proximity to all things ’ til-death-do-us-part, Linc was beginning to feel a serious itch to turn tail and run coming on.

  “Right on time,” Georgia trilled, hurrying from the back.

  For reasons beyond his immediate understanding, he felt a bolt of heat land in his groin, and a ridiculous smile try to take over his lips. With effort, he flattened his mouth. “Did you expect me to be late?”

  Karen snorted and resumed her post behind the desk. “She expects everyone to be late. Don’t take it personally. She typically builds fifteen minutes into every appointment to prevent ‘downtime.’” She said “downtime” as though it were a dreaded, unforgivable sin. Irritating though she may be, Karen was proving to be quite a font of helpful information about his honorary assistant.

  Linc’s gaze slid to Georgia who looked ready to strangle her chatty help. He felt his traitorous lips twitch. “Is this true?”

  She lifted her chin in a stubborn little angle he stupidly found sexy. “It’s efficient.”

  He could certainly understand that. And she was nothing if not the perfect picture of efficiency. His moody gaze slid over her. Irritatingly, she’d pulled her beautiful hair up into that don’t-touch-me ponytail again. Only the smallest hint of makeup tinted her face—it probably took her less than two to three minutes to apply, which was no doubt the point. Her clothes were tailored, high-end wrinkle resistant with little to no embellishments. Clean collar, flat-panel slacks, sleek jacket, no-nonsense shoes. Simple diamond studs winked in her ears and a nice watch glinted from her wrist. A slim leather bag—which he’d
bet his left nut contained her cell phone, PDA and perfectly organized wallet—hung from her shoulder.

  He was suddenly hit with the insane urge to pull down her hair, drag her tucked-in shirt from the waistband of her pants—copping a feel in the process, of course, because he was a man—and throw a little dirt on her shoes. He wanted to mess her up a little. Rattle her cage and see what set her off.

  Without warning a vision of setting her off in the literal, biblical sense suddenly materialized in his mind’s eye—naked creamy skin, pouting rosy nipples, her perfectly straight teeth sinking into that plump lower lip as she came for him. Linc simultaneously hardened and panicked, then gave his head a small shake to dislodge the vision. He blinked and, with difficultly, pulled the fully clothed version of Georgia Hart back into focus.

  She’d definitely dressed for work, but not his kind of work. He reoutfitted her in formfitting black jeans, a black long-sleeved T-shirt, a pair of shit-kicker boots and backpack as opposed to the purse.

  Ah, Linc thought. Much better. She’d never pull off fierce with that ultrafeminine face and curls, but hot was definitely doable.

  In fact, insanely, she was hot now, otherwise he wouldn’t be thinking about backing her against the wall and taking her until her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “For future reference, I’m always on time. Is that what you’re wearing?”

  She looked down at herself, then her heavily lashed gaze bumped uncertainly back up to his. “It’s what I have on. Is something wrong with it?”

  “You don’t look like a bond-enforcement agent.”

  “I didn’t realize you wanted me to look like a bond-enforcement agent.”

  “For today it’ll be fine,” he said, purposely sounding skeptical. “Tomorrow you might want to wear something a little less dressy. If we have time today, we’ll find you something.” Actually, Linc thought, they would make time. If he had to have her along with him, he might as well amuse himself. And something about making Little Miss Prim and Proper dress for him was downright hysterical.