by Lori Foster
Shay had to admit, they all looked very pretty when the heaviest makeup had been removed.
Bryan caught her elbow and lifted her from the seat, leading her toward the stainless steel toaster. “Why don’t you take a look while I pour your coffee?”
A little apprehensive, Shay hesitated, then bent and peeked at her reflection in the stainless steel.
Oh. My. God. Smudged, kohl-lined eyes blinked at her. A bright red mouth opened in surprise. She choked—and her back snapped straight again. She covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t a vain woman, but wow. Halloween had come early.
Grinning like a sinner, Bryan pulled her hands down and handed her a cup of sweetened coffee. “Drink. It’ll help to clear your head.”
She gulped down half a cup, aware of Bryan chuckling at her.
“They did you up real nice,” he teased. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You could stand on any street corner around and make a fortune.”
She groaned. “Shut up, please.” She handed the cup to Bryan, drew a deep breath for courage, and bent to look again. She had enough eyeliner for Bozo the clown. Her cheeks looked like someone had slapped her. Hard.
And her mouth. With the crimson lipstick, which had smeared during her sleep, her lips looked too full, her mouth too wide.
“Here you go.”
The coffee wasn’t helping, Shay decided, after swilling another cup. She peeked at Bryan, knew he was waiting for her reaction to her appearance, and decided a thorough scrubbing was the order of the day.
“Delicious coffee. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She leaned into the sink bowl, turned on the water and started splashing. Behind her, Bryan laughed out loud.
“Get me something,” she demanded, “a washcloth or a paper towel or whatever.”
“Given that paint job, you could probably use a mop.” He wasn’t gone long. “Here you go.”
Half of Shay’s hair was wet with the furious way she splashed. Blindly, she reached out, bumping Bryan’s abdomen and chest before finding and snatching the hand towel from him. She stuck it under the water and scrubbed hard.
“Easy,” Bryan told her. “You’re going to take off a layer of skin.”
“You’re a wicked, wicked man for not saying something sooner.”
He carefully gathered her hair together and held it back from her face. Shay could feel his warmth, smell his scent. “You couldn’t move, Shay, so what could you have done about it?”
“I could’ve just died and got it over with.”
“Now what a shame that would’ve been.”
Her splashing stopped. It seemed she wasn’t even breathing.
Damn it, he hadn’t meant to say that, to egg her on or encourage her in her infatuation. But watching her furious efforts to remove the war paint amused him.
Seeing her rounded backside jutting out turned him on.
And the damn dream had his emotions all churning, way too close to the surface.
Finding her safe, drunk, and the brunt of a joke had given him so much relief, he wanted to fold her in close to his chest and promise to protect her so he never had to worry again.
Idiotic.
She didn’t need his damn protection. Like cats, women had a knack for landing on their feet, no matter what. He should have learned that lesson by now. Not since his wife had he indulged his inflated noble streak by trying to protect a woman. And look where that had gotten him. Megan, who had been young and naive, had screwed him over in the worst possible way. If she could manage that type of deception, what was someone like Shay capable of?
So maybe she wasn’t a whore, but she still had deep secrets, and secrets were always a dangerous thing.
Very slowly, her face dripping, Shay straightened and turned to him. Her lips were open, her breathing harsh. Bryan knew he should resist temptation, but he couldn’t get his feet to move. In fact, the only things moving were his pounding heart, his laboring lungs, and his cock—which strained with interest.
They stared at each other.
The night’s debauchery had left her eyes bloodshot and some of the smeared makeup remained. The hair around her face was sodden. She looked hungover—and still he wanted her so much that he shook with it.
“I have to leave for a little while today.”
That brought him out of his sensual reverie and nudged his worry right back to the surface. “Leave where?”
Shay lifted one shoulder, and avoided his gaze by looking at his throat. “I just have a few things to do. I won’t be gone long.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What things, Shay?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t tell him that she wanted to check on Leigh, talk to her realtor, arrange to have new clothes dropped off, that she…had so many things she was dying to accomplish, things that would help him, the shelter, and the women. “It’s private.”
He caught her chin and tipped her face up to his. He looked darkly determined, riled. Shay licked her lips in nervousness—and his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Taking the hand towel from her, he used a wet corner to wipe around her lips. “You missed some,” he whispered.
“Oh.” Shay’s heart kicked hard, but not in fear. She just felt so alive, so excited.
“When are you leaving?”
She tried to think, but somehow, it was his thumb touching her lips, and not the towel. “I…I thought I’d go now, so I could be back before the others start waking.”
“Don’t want them asking questions either, huh?”
“I’d rather they didn’t.”
Bryan released her, letting his hands drop to his sides. “You’re coming back?”
He really didn’t trust her at all. “Yes.” Her smile felt shaky. “I promise.”
“All right.” He took a step away from her. “I have some stuff to do, too.”
Shay twisted the towel in her hands. “Like what?”
Her audacity had him lifting a brow. “I have to tell, but you don’t?”
The heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “Unless it’s private.”
“It’s not.” Shay watched him go to the refrigerator and open the door. “Today is grocery day. I need to restock”—He slanted her a look—“minus the whiskey.”
Oops. Shay covered her mouth. So he did know. “Sorry about that.”
“You’re not the one who brought it here. Just try not to get so sloshed next time that you pass out in the chair. God only knows what they’ll do to you if it happens again.” He moved around the various jars of condiments, making note of what had to be bought and what didn’t. “I’ve got to check out a few prospective employers, too.”
“For who?”
“The ladies. If I can find them a better place to work, I’ll have better odds of keeping them off the street.”
“Great idea.” Her thoughts churned. She knew some people she could contact, some arms to twist. Thinking out loud, she said, “You need a place willing to train. Where there’s room for advancement. Someplace local, so they won’t have to travel too far….” She realized Bryan stood there, the refrigerator door still open while he stared at her. Another oops.
Without a word, he closed the fridge and went to the cabinet. “You know anyplace like that, Shay?” He shook a box of cereal, counted cans of vegetables.
“I might.” She did, but didn’t want to give him names. She’d rather contact the people herself, maybe have them get in touch with Bryan, keeping her involvement quiet.
Glancing at her watch, she said, “Well, I should be going.”
“How do you plan to get wherever you’re headed?”
“Bus.”
“Why don’t I drive you?” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back on the counter. Today he wore a black T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and showed off really impressive biceps.
How in the world did a preacher get built like a bouncer? Shay sighed. His jeans fit him like a dream, worn thin in all the right places.
&nb
sp; When she looked back to his face, his eyes were narrowed in that special way of his that showed both impatience and awesome attention to detail. She had no doubt he knew her thoughts, but he wouldn’t acknowledge them.
“I have a station wagon. We use it to get the women to the clinic and back. Nothing fancy, but it’s reliable.”
Riding with him would give them more private time to talk, but then he’d know where she went, and she couldn’t have that. Feeling real regret, she denied the offer. “Sorry, no. The bus is better for me. You can get your errands done, I’ll take care of mine, and…maybe we can visit again later?” She hoped so. She really wanted to spend more time with him.
Her evasions displeased him, she could tell. He pushed away from the counter. “Maybe.” Then he went right past her. A few seconds later, she heard the front door close.
Shay missed him already.
She shook herself out of her melancholy. If she hoped to accomplish everything in the short time she’d have here, she couldn’t waste a single second on moping.
Using the downstairs bathroom, she found a bar of soap and removed the remainder of makeup, then combed her hair and put it into a ponytail. A supply of new toothbrushes was in the linen closet, along with a variety of other things women might need. She pulled out lotion. It wasn’t the expensive brand she normally used, but for today, it’d have to do.
Picturing Bryan in a store, sorting through all the varieties, stocking up on feminine products, brought a smile to her face. What a guy.
She turned on her cell phone. While she was out, she’d call Dawn. Her friend did like to fret.
Not bothering to change clothes—since she had nothing to change into—Shay threw her purse strap over her arm and headed out, facing the day with a whistle and a lot of anticipation.
Chapter Five
Wearing a low-billed cap and mirrored sunglasses, Bryan watched Shay leave the safe house. She looked young and energetic and full of purpose. His instincts insisted that he follow her, not only because he didn’t trust her, but because he still couldn’t shake off the damn dream. He wanted to see what she was up to, and he needed to make sure she stayed safe.
Idiot.
Even as he cursed himself, he kept her in his sights. She headed for the bus stop, drawing a lot of attention along the way. Shay wasn’t a woman anyone could ignore—male or female.
Chili was still at the bar, hanging outside, looking for ways to waste his money. His shirt was more out than tucked in, and he barely managed to stay upright on his feet. He eyed Shay as she passed him, his expression covetous behind his glasses. Bryan made a mental note to have a talk with the little cretin, especially since he seemed to be skulking about a lot more often.
Men in recessed doorways, in various stages of drunkenness, tracked Shay with their blurry gazes. The pawnshop owner, a fifty-year-old woman, stopped sweeping her walk to stare. The newspaper vendor did the same.
Oblivious to them all, Shay slipped on sunglasses and continued on her way, her expression lost in thought.
She wasn’t wearing a see-through dress today, but still she captivated one and all. It wasn’t the clothes; it was the woman.
Bryan groaned. Hell, he was doomed.
He waited until Shay got on the noisy bus, then he followed along in the station wagon. At each stop, he waited to see if she’d depart, but it wasn’t until they reached the nicer area on the outskirts of downtown that he spotted her bright hair and long-legged stride among the crowd leaving the bus. She separated herself, striding up the main street to a family-style Italian restaurant. Bryan pulled to the curb and kept the car running while he watched her go inside.
It was almost half an hour before she came back out, accompanied by an older, rotund man in an apron who kept his arm around her with obvious affection. Shay smiled down at the shorter man. She kissed him on the cheek, accepted his hug, and walked away.
The sun was already high in the sky and despite a gentle breeze, the day had warmed considerably.
It had nothing on Bryan’s temper.
Rather than return to the bus stop at that point, Shay traipsed across the street to a tidy clothing store, then into a coffee shop, and after that, a private gallery.
After each visit, she left grinning.
And so the morning went. Bryan followed her from one destination to the next. She spent anywhere from twenty to forty minutes in each establishment.
After visiting no less than ten places up and down the main street, she hailed a cab.
What the hell was she up to?
In the back of Bryan’s mind grew the ugly thought that she might be servicing regulars, gathering up some ready cash. His hands fisted on the steering wheel and his guts cramped.
He hated the idea so much that he talked himself out of it. After all, she wore no makeup this morning, had her hair in a plain ponytail, and wore the used clothing he’d given to her yesterday. Logically, she couldn’t be working.
But then, even dressed down, Shay looked more edible than any woman he’d ever seen.
His anger simmered. All her dealings were with men, of all ages, build and familiarity. Hell, she seemed to know everyone in this neck of the woods. Why she had to visit them all now, if not for business, he couldn’t guess.
But he’d figure her out sooner or later.
The cab left the business area for the suburbs, and Bryan, a pro at tracking, held back so Shay wouldn’t notice him.
Finally the cab pulled up in a residential area. Small brick homes lined the street, each nearly identical to the one beside it. Only the trim colors on shutters and gutters offered any variety. Enormous trees were everywhere, dating the area. Family-style cars, mostly older, were parked all along the street.
Bryan stopped several yards away, inching the wagon in behind a minivan that helped conceal him. A group of kids ran down the street kicking a ball, chased by a dog. It was the type of neighborhood he’d grown up in: far from wealthy, but wholesome and clean.
His dad had done a hell of a job with them. Raising two kids alone couldn’t have been easy, but not once had Bryan ever heard his dad complain.
After paying the cabbie, Shay strolled up a cracked walkway lined by colorful flowers, to a concrete porch shaded by a massive elm. It was a small yard, lush with vegetation, flanked by another house on the right only two yards away. On the left was an empty building, and a narrow alley that led to another street and more houses.
A young, quite petite woman met Shay at the door. Of course, standing next to Shay would make most women seem short. Bryan guessed the woman to be in her late twenties. She had very dark skin, stylishly short hair, and a wide smile of welcome. They were obviously friends.
She held the door open for Shay to enter, and Bryan caught a glimpse of Leigh, the girl he and Shay had discussed the night before. She hovered in the doorway, anxious to see Shay.
Shay drew her into a warm, friendly hug.
Bryan stared so hard that he almost missed the shadow at the side of the porch, by the alley. Unlike the shade of the tree that moved and shifted with the breeze, this shadow remained still, too still. Bryan pulled off his hat and glasses, then leaned over his steering wheel, keeping his attention divided between the front door and the side yard. He waited, his senses on alert.
The shadow shifted and a shrouded head appeared.
Well, well, well, Bryan thought, already sliding from his car in silent fury. The hot September sun beat down on him, yet the intruder had dressed in dark clothes, complete with a loose-fitting sweatshirt and hood. The clothes were so concealing that Bryan couldn’t catch a single distinguishing feature.
He crept forward, his movements silent, undetectable, as he skirted from the car to a tree, waited, and then moved along the length of the van, staying out of sight of anyone from the house. Tuning out the sounds of kids, barking dogs and running cars, he concentrated on his timing, preparing to lunge so he could take the guy by surprise. He waited, gathering his control—
and suddenly Shay was there.
She stepped around the end of the van, hands on her hips, sunlight glinting off her fair hair.
Bryan was so startled to see her, he didn’t at first move. She managed to look down her nose at him. “I knew it! You followed me. How dare you!”
Goddamn it. Knowing she’d already scared off the intruder, Bryan thrust Shay behind him. “Get in the wagon and lock the doors!”
In the distance, he could see the guy shooting down the alley. He was small and wiry, his feet flying over the ground. Bryan ran hard. He heard Shay call to him, but he ignored her, keeping his attention on the quickly disappearing body. If he got distracted now, he’d lose him.
As Bryan ran past the house he yelled to Shay’s friend on the porch, “Get inside!”
The man skidded around the end of the alley and was out of sight. But Bryan didn’t stop. In his mind, he remembered the shape his brother had been in after being attacked, the bruises and cuts…This had to be related somehow.
He’d be damned before he let a woman get hurt like that. He shot around the corner—and stalled. There was confusion everywhere. Youths were shooting basketball, a woman was unloading groceries from her car, two older folks were talking. But he didn’t see the man. He turned a fast circle, bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to break into another run…but he had no idea which way to go.
Damn it.
One boy, around ten or eleven years old, stared at Bryan.
“Where’d he go?” Bryan demanded.
The kid pointed up the street, but didn’t say a word. The road was long, with side roads cutting across every ten houses and numerous large trees, fences and detached garages.
Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Bryan asked, “Did he turn anywhere? Did you see where he went?”
The woman stepped away from her car, her expression growing suspicious. “What’s going on? You a cop?”
“No, ma’am. I saw that guy sneaking around your neighbor’s property, and then he took off running.” Bryan shrugged. “So I chased him.”
