“Thanks for everything, Cara. I’ve never really had a friend before, so I hope I’ll see you again sometime.” She looked away as the heat of embarrassment turned her skin clammy. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Walker what we talked about. It will only make things awkward for the rest of the time he has to be here.” She almost got through it without her voice breaking.
“You underestimate yourself.” Cara put her arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “Whatever happens with you and Walker, I want you to come and stay with Joe and me for a while. You need a friend . . . me . . . and a little self-confidence. Joe specializes in that. Where do you think I got all of mine? I hope you don’t think I was always so obnoxious.”
Darcy laughed and hugged her back. She blinked hard and cleared her throat. No way would she let any more tears fall because of Walker. He’d saved her life and promised to stay with her until she made her decision. That should be enough.
Joe was anxious to get going by the time she and Cara returned upstairs. On the deck, Cara hugged her again and then Walker.
“It’s between the Walther P22 and the Glock 30. They both have a light trigger so be careful. She’s nervous about guns, but once she’s fired them a few times . . .”
“Cara, I’ve got this. Thanks for your help. Now, get out of here.” Walker linked arms with her and stepped toward the end of the deck.
“Right. Shutting up now.” She gave him another quick hug, and with an impish grin, told him to take care of Darcy and then climbed into the chopper. The helicopter lifted off and soon the sound of the rotors faded into the distance.
The house on the hill was eerily quiet as Darcy and Walker went back inside. Alone with him again, she couldn’t think of anything to say and the silence stretched endlessly. He followed her into the kitchen and she sensed him watching her as she checked to make sure everything was clean. There were still dishes in the drainer so she pulled them out and tried to find where they belonged. After she’d banged the cupboard doors a few times, Walker took the dry dishes from her and put them away. She tried to ignore the way his touch sent tingles up her arm and his proximity caused her heart to race out of control. The words she searched for to dispel the awkward silence remained just beyond her grasp, as usual. She was hopeless when it came to men.
Cara and Joe looked at each other like they were totally in love, always touching when they stood close together. Darcy was envious of their relationship. She wanted that . . . the closeness . . . the love of someone without whom life would be futile. She barely knew Walker, and it was foolish to feel the way she did about him. He would never settle for someone like her. Robby’s despicable act had damaged her self-esteem, more than she’d ever admitted, and made her afraid to explore a healthy relationship with a man. If she’d had any experience romantically . . . no, not even that would help. She simply wasn’t the kind of woman that attracted a man like Walker.
When he’d finished stowing the dishes and turned to look at her again, she retreated to the sink where a towel lay draped over the edge of the counter. She folded the towel, then straightened it out and folded it again. After her third attempt to get it just right, Walker took it from her and tossed it on the counter.
“You’re frowning. What are you thinking about?”
She couldn’t tell him she was thinking about him so she said the first thing that came to mind. “Robby, actually.” She shrugged and her cheeks flushed with warmth. He was so close she felt the heat of his body, and she had to force herself to stand still.
Instantly, anger darkened his eyes. “You should have let me take care of that scum when I had the chance.”
She was mesmerized by his lips as he spoke, so close, so soft and inviting. Her heart beat an uneven rhythm and her breathing followed suit. The pull of those lips was too strong and drowned out all of her sense and reason. Ignoring the warning that screamed in her head, she stepped into him, rested her hands on his arms, rose up on her tiptoes, and brushed her lips lightly across his. Almost immediately, she pulled back, afraid to open her eyes and see the anger and disgust in his. When she finally looked at him from beneath lowered lashes, the surprise in his eyes confirmed her fears.
What had she expected? Only yesterday, he’d deftly sidestepped her clumsy advance on the beach. Yet, here she was again, blatantly inviting him to . . . to what? She didn’t even know what she wanted from him. Oh Lord, she’d done it now. Not waiting to see rejection cloud his face or hear his scornful words, she stepped around him toward the door.
He stopped her and tilted her chin so she looked directly into his troubled eyes as his gaze swept over her. “You know you’re driving me crazy . . . right?”
A heated shiver coursed through her as his fingers stroked her cheek. Her chin came up and she shook her head. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“No?”
He leaned toward her and she stopped breathing as his lips lightly feathered across her neck.
“I love the way you smell . . . honeysuckle, isn’t it?”
She stepped back, but he caught her shoulders and pulled her forward again.
“Please, let me go.” Darcy’s heart pounded in her chest so loudly surely he heard.
He raised his head, looked in her eyes, and gently caressed her neck. “You can go anytime you please . . . but is that really what you want?” His hand dropped to the base of her throat. “Do you know what you want, Darcy?” His words whispered against her ear.
The brush of his hand on her neck sent tingles up and down her spine. Every nerve in her body vibrated in response and her ragged breathing rasped in her ears.
“Not everyone is like that bastard who hurt you. Not everyone takes. Some give as much as they get. You just have to let the right man get close. Stop being afraid.” His lips moved teasingly over hers.
Her eyes closed as she leaned into him. He exuded an almost tangible force she seemed powerless to resist. She needed air, but the breath she drew in was shallow, and the unfamiliar need that raged through her body left her knees weak and shaky. She laid her hand against his chest to steady herself.
“It’s time to give some of them a chance, Darcy.” He pulled her into his arms. “Do you want me to let you go?”
She wasn’t even sure she’d heard him. His lips were so close to hers she might have only felt them moving, but she didn’t want him to talk anymore. She forced her eyes open, held captive by the dark depths of his. He still waited for her to answer, so she shook her head, the faintest of movement.
“I didn’t think so.” Reaching behind her head, he pulled the tie holding her ponytail in place. Her unruly red hair fell forward around her face. He ran his hand through the thick mass of curls to cup the back of her head. His lips brushed hers and then claimed them possessively. Warm and moist, they moved gently on hers, his tongue seeking access and entering when she opened her mouth.
She breathed in quick, short gasps, never quite filling her lungs full enough. From somewhere, the thought came that this was a mistake, but his lips and his body molded against hers robbed her of any ability to protest. Her hands, braced against his chest, relaxed as his arm tightened around her.
He still held her head, making it impossible for her to break away—as though she would. One of his hands dropped to her waist and pulled her against him. She slid her arms around his neck and a moan escaped her. If he let her go at this moment, she had no doubt she’d land in a heap on the floor.
He continued dropping kisses on her lips, her eyes, her ears. His perfect, deliciously grown-up kiss seemed to go on forever . . . and that was just fine with her.
Chapter Eight
* * *
WALKER EXHALED SLOWLY as he opened his eyes and strove for control. Hers were still closed, but those long, dark lashes veiled the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. What in the hell was he doing? Her soft, sensuous kiss drew him in, breaking through his defenses, and he foolishly gave in to it. Damn. Where did he think he was going with this anyway? He
knew where he’d like to go—upstairs and down the hall to the first bedroom . . . but that was out of the question. She was his responsibility and that meant delivering her to the federal marshals in the same condition in which he retrieved her. Besides, goddamn it, he wasn’t supposed to get involved.
It was too late for that now. She’d gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t get her image out of his mind, or her smell, or her taste. He groaned as he slowly ran his thumb over her lower lip. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, so damn sexy his breath caught in his throat. Hell, she made the first move. Surely she wasn’t surprised when he kissed her back. There was probably a whole lot of passion bottled up in this small, shapely package, just waiting for someone to uncork it. Why shouldn’t it be him?
Walker had been with his share of women—women who never questioned how the night would end and never expected him to be around in the morning. Women who didn’t mind if he was too drunk, or too rough, or too fucked up, but this girl was something else entirely. She was from a different world than him. Her whole life was in front of her. The life he’d led had scarred him—changed him. His future was more of the same. He could never fit into her world.
Suddenly, he was scared. Scared she’d see right through him. Afraid he’d hurt her or do something to make her stop looking at him with longing in her eyes, the way she was now. Stealing a kiss or two was one thing, but it couldn’t go any further than that. Another groan rumbled in his chest. Man, did Joe ever pick the wrong guy for this job.
Concern flashed across Darcy’s face as she leaned back to search his eyes, and the beginnings of uncertainty took root in hers.
There was no way in hell to downplay this and convince her, or himself for that matter, that what just happened between them was anything other than what it was—mutual attraction, but that was exactly what he should do. He only had to make her believe she’d had no affect on him. That theory was pretty much shot to hell by the evidence of his desire pressed against her stomach at the moment, and damn if he didn’t want more.
The insecurity in her eyes made his gut ache. If he stepped back now, she’d think he rejected her because she wasn’t good enough. It made him furious that someone, somewhere along the line, put that thought in her head. He was the one who wasn’t good enough . . . to touch . . . to steal a kiss . . . and damn sure wasn’t good enough to expect anything more than that. If he were any kind of man, he’d tell her right now he wasn’t interested and walk away. All he had to do was ignore the pain and humiliation that would settle on her face, just as it had yesterday on the beach when he pushed her away.
He couldn’t do it—he wouldn’t. Not now. His instincts told him he was screwing up big-time, but it just didn’t feel like a mistake. He returned her smile and grazed one final kiss across her lips before reluctantly letting her go.
“Do you think you could stop wasting your time thinking about Robby? Someday you’ll find a man who knows how to treat a woman. If you need any help deciding if he’s good enough for you, just let me know.”
“Um . . . right.” She stopped and a tinge of red colored her cheeks.
He hid a smile and forced himself to walk toward the door. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”
FOR SEVERAL MINUTES, Walker watched her struggle to hold the gun and assume the stance he’d suggested—turned slightly, gripping the gun with her right hand and using her left to support from the bottom. It became clear immediately her left arm was still bruised and sore from a collision with something up on that mountain near Tillamook. He’d wanted to check it out sooner but she’d refused his help adamantly. Now, however, if her injury was going to get in the way of her defending herself should it become necessary, he couldn’t take no for an answer. He walked up behind her and took the Walther P22 from her hand. It was the lightest handgun in Joe’s arsenal. If she couldn’t handle this one, they were wasting their efforts.
“It’s time for you to tell me what’s wrong with your arm.” He put the safety on the handgun and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans, snug against his back.
“It’s nothing. I fell when I was trying to get away from Grant and slammed my shoulder into a log. It’s just bruised.”
He didn’t like the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Let’s have a look.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s practically healed.”
He reached for her arm just below the shoulder. She tried to shrug away from him, suddenly tensed, and emitted a sharp gasp.
“You’re a lousy liar. Let’s go in the house and have a look. If you don’t want to take your shirt off, I’ll be happy to do it for you.” He was joking, trying to win back her smile, but he knew right away he’d made a mistake.
She bristled and glared angrily before she turned her back and started for the house. “I said it was fine. Now that we’ve got a freezer, I can ice it. Anyway, it’s my problem, not yours.”
He overtook her, anger slowly eroding his good judgment, and jerked her around to face him. “Not my problem? I’m risking my neck to keep you alive and all I’m asking in return is for you to be honest with me. It is my problem because when there’s no one but me between you and a very painful death, I need to know what you can and cannot do.” The fear that sparked in her eyes stabbed through to his conscience and left him with a seriously bad taste in his mouth. Damn it. Surely there was some other way he could have said that.
Stormy green eyes challenged him as she raised her chin and drew herself up straight with a slow inhale of breath. “I didn’t ask you to risk your neck. As you may recall, I suggested you leave before you get hurt because of me, but . . . no . . . you’re going to do whatever it is you think is right—like Johnny, and my father, and every other man I’ve ever known. Well, stop treating me like you think I can’t take care of myself.”
Darcy was yelling by the time she was done, then she brushed at the tears running down her cheeks, whirled, and strode to the house. Walker stared after her, wondering what the hell he’d said to make her so mad. She probably could have done without his smart remark about removing her shirt, but surely she knew he was joking. She had to know he wouldn’t hurt her. Didn’t she? In addition to blowing this whole thing out of proportion, she’d gone and compared him to her father and that bastard Johnny Fontana. That wasn’t setting well.
Nor did he like what Joe had told him this morning. Something wasn’t adding up. The U.S. Marshals Service was being secretive and uncooperative. They said they wanted someone outside the agency to find Darcy. Enter Walker. Now there was no information coming through the marshals. They stonewalled Joe when he requested assistance with Deputy Cooper yesterday, then turned around and called their deputy off. Joe had a bad feeling, and Walker had learned to appreciate his friend’s hunches. Trust no one, Joe had advised. That was fine with Walker since turning his back on Cooper wasn’t in his plans for the foreseeable future.
He unloaded the Walther P22 and carried it back downstairs to the safe room, leaving it on the bedside stand with the box of shells. Moving from one floor to the next, he methodically checked all the windows to make sure they were securely locked. Once he felt certain his temper was firmly under control, he went in search of Darcy.
She held a dust rag in one hand and a can of furniture polish in the other, going to town in the living room. She ignored him until he took the cleaning supplies from her hands.
“Sit down.” He pointed to an ottoman next to the table she’d been working on. For a moment, it looked like she’d blow him off, but he stared her down and she finally dropped onto the stool. He knelt in front of her. “Do you trust me?”
Surprise crossed her face for a moment before she nodded.
“Do you believe I’d never hurt you?”
“Of course.” She tried to turn away, but he cupped her chin in his fingers and turned her so her angry gaze fell on him.
“Do you understand why it’s important you and I be honest with each other?”
“You’re
doing it again.” She brushed his hand away and he let her.
“What am I doing?”
“Treating me like a child.” She sat up straighter.
A smile crossed Walker’s face as he studied her, but he wiped it away when he saw her expression harden. “Is that what’s got you so mad at me?”
She looked away as a flush of color worked its way up her throat. He turned her chin so she looked at him again. “If I ever thought of you as a child, I promise I stopped about the time I kissed you this morning.” He grinned at her and her lips twitched the slightest little bit. It was all the encouragement he needed. He leaned toward her and covered her mouth with his in a slow, gentle kiss.
What the hell . . . he’d already crossed the line. Nothing left to do but draw a new line and stay on the right side of it. He could do that—couldn’t he? Walker straightened and pulled her up with him, then wrapped her in his arms and deepened the kiss. When he finally relinquished her lips, she was flushed.
“So, if I treat you like a woman, and not a child, will you promise never to compare me to your father again?” He nibbled on her ear as he whispered.
Darcy laughed lightly and pushed herself back to meet his gaze. “Did that bother you? Aren’t you the one who told me how much older you are than me?” Her eyes teased him, her previous anger apparently already forgotten.
“Keep it up, Darcy, and I’ll show you age doesn’t make the man.” He spoke in a pure down-home Southern drawl just to see her reaction.
She laughed again, then grew serious and regarded him with those deep jade-colored eyes until he was sure she could see clear through to his soul. He suddenly wanted another taste of her but knew he was getting dangerously close to the new line he’d drawn. He let her go and stepped back.
When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel Page 12
