“Sounds like a plan.”
“Shower cap? I’d be happy to fetch you another.”
“The one I have is still working like a champ.” She stared deep into his eyes and sent a silent message. Go. He backed up, and she moved to close the door. The minute their gazes disconnected, however, his hand shot through the crack to grip the doorjamb.
“If you need anything else, you know who to call. Me. Eldin. That’s E-L-D-I-N. Some folks spell it with two Es, but my parents wanted something unique.”
“I’ll make a note of that.”
The hand loosened from the doorjamb only to tighten again. “Oh, I almost forgot. You had a couple of phone calls.”
Viv opened the door a few inches. “Who?”
“One was a Cindy Marsfield with Southern Travel. She said her assistant lost your cell number. Since we’re not set up for voicemail here, she asked if I could relay a message. She said they moved up your deadline. It’s two weeks from today.”
Viv nodded. She’d planned on turning it in to Cindy sooner anyway because she knew the odds were that Cruz and Molly would find her before then, and she didn’t want any loose ends left hanging. Cindy had given her the job that had led her back to Garret. She owed the woman.
Article? Check.
Orgasm? Check, check.
At least that had been the plan.
“Never, ever again.”
Garret’s deep voice echoed in her ears, and she focused her attention on Eldin. Anything to ignore the doubt that gripped her.
“What about the other calls?”
“There was just one.” He shrugged. “Don’t know who it was. The man didn’t leave a message. He just asked if I had a Viviana Darland registered here and what room she was in.” He must have noticed the sudden stiffening of Viv’s body, because he rushed on, “But don’t worry. I didn’t give you up. If there’s one thing we pride ourselves on here at the Skull Creek, it’s protecting the privacy of each and every celebrity guest. Why, we had Norm Shannon here last year, and not so much as one groupie wiggled past yours truly.”
“Norm Shannon?”
“He hosts a local AM radio show. He does cow impersonations,” he added, as if that explained it all. “The FFA kids over at the high school just love him. He was in town to speak at their annual banquet, and he was really worried that he wouldn’t be able to get a decent night’s rest on account of his ratings recently tripled—he started doing chickens in addition to the cows. But I sat in the parking lot with my BB gun and made sure none of them youngsters got within twenty feet of him. I didn’t have to shoot anybody, mind you. The darned thing wasn’t even loaded. It was more of a bluff than anything else, but it worked like a charm. So don’t you worry a bit. If anyone tries to bother you while you’re here, I’ll deal with them. I know you famous writer types like to keep a low profile.”
Writing articles for a sleazy tabloid hardly qualified her for celebrity status, but she appreciated Eldin’s protective instincts all the same.
Not that a BB gun would be of any use against Cruz and Molly. They wanted their humanity back, and they wouldn’t stop until Viv was dead for good this time.
Time.
The word lingered in her mind as she closed and locked the door behind Eldin and tried to shake the tingling awareness that gripped every inch of her.
The same awareness she’d felt walking down that mountain, away from the site of the Butcher’s latest bloodbath, with Sheriff Matt Keller.
She’d known then that Cruz and Molly were close.
Just as she knew now.
The truth closed in on her, and she trembled.
While they were just calling around right now, checking facts, it wouldn’t be long before they got enough confirmation to draw them here in person. It would be just a matter of days—if that long—before they finally showed up for a repeat of the Washington ambush.
She turned on the cold water and peeled off her shirt. Anxiety gripped her body, along with frustration.
Her gut clenched, and hunger gnawed at her. Her hands trembled, and her nipples throbbed.
She ignored the doubt that nibbled away at her determination and focused on analyzing the evening and what had driven Garret over the edge.
He’d managed to resist her while they were in different rooms, but when the fire started he’d come to her rescue. Face-to-face, with the heat burning between them, he’d been unable to hold back.
Close.
That was the key. All she had to do was stick to him like glue, and they would be doing the nasty in no time.
She clung to the hope, shimmied off her skirt and stepped beneath the icy spray.
12
DISTANCE.
That was the key to resisting Viv and keeping his fire insurance coverage from going through the friggin’ roof.
Garret tossed another hay bale from the bed of the 4 x 4 Chevy pick-up. It landed in a pile near the three others he’d already unloaded. He jumped down off the tailgate. One hand dove into his back pocket and retrieved a pair of wire cutters.
He snipped the tie on each bale before climbing back into the cab. He gunned the engine and headed for the adjacent pasture to drop off the last bale for the handful of broncing bucks he’d purchased last week.
He’d yet to turn them out with the rest of his herd. He wouldn’t until they were broken.
If they were broken.
When he’d been just a man, he’d been able to tame the wildest horse. But now…Now he couldn’t get within fifty feet. The horses saw his true nature, and they feared it.
He didn’t blame them. He would have pissed himself if he’d known who—what—Viviana really was when he’d first met her. And he sure as hell wouldn’t have put his trust in her.
Her image popped into his head, and he saw her the way she’d looked on that first night. Her luscious body clad in white cotton bloomers, her cleavage pushing up from an ultra-tight corset, her long dark hair flowing down around her shoulders. She’d been beautiful. Mesmerizing. Irresistible.
Then and now.
Only the circumstances were different now. He didn’t want her because of what she was. He wanted her because of what he was. Because he’d been mainly bagging it since he’d come to Skull Creek, and he was desperate for the real thing.
Blood and sex.
His muscles tightened, and his gut clenched as he snipped the wire on the last bale. He’d been cold turkey for so long, and he was starting to feel it. That was the reason for his temporary loss of control tonight. A loss that wouldn’t have occurred if he hadn’t been in a confined space with her.
He ignored the tiny voice that whispered there was nothing confining about a massive fabrication shop with three spacious bays and twenty-foot ceilings.
He needed distance. Space.
His nerves twitched, and his gaze shifted to the faint orange line outlining the distant trees.
Forget space. What he needed at the moment was to get the hell out of here before sunup. Already he could feel the heat creeping toward him and smell the sunshine hiding just behind the cluster of oak trees.
His skin tingled, and his hands clinched.
As anxious as he was, there was a small part of him that refused to hurry. He couldn’t help but wonder if the sun still felt as warm, as honest as it once had so long ago.
It did. He knew it. It was a certainty that grew stronger with each day that passed since he’d moved to Skull Creek, Texas.
Moved, but not settled.
No, Garret Sawyer was still very much unsettled. Still restless. Still waiting.
For the chance to breathe again, to feel, to live.
He shifted his attention back to the cutters in his hand. A quick snip, and the wires popped. He lifted the bale and scattered it for several feet.
He could have easily paid someone to do the work for him. Or even bought one of those state-of-the-art balers that could cut and drop in a fifth the time it took him to load his truck and do the j
ob himself.
He had the money thanks to the success of his choppers.
But it felt good to get his hands dirty.
Normal.
The thought struck and he pushed it away. He was anything but, and he had a burnt mess back at his shop to prove it.
No, he wasn’t normal.
He might never be normal again. He saw the proof in the glittering black eyes of the nearest horse. Delilah. The rich, sweet smell of hay filled the air, and her nostrils flared. She took a few steps toward him, only to draw up short several feet away.
Garret walked back to the cab and pulled a bag of apple slices from the dashboard. He pulled out a slice and held it out to her. The animal drew another step closer, her nose twitching, her hunger battling with her survival instincts.
A knowing light gleamed in her eyes as she stared at Garret.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, but the animal wasn’t the least bit fooled.
Garret’s fingers itched to cross the space between them and stroke the animal’s soft fur. It had been so long since he’d felt the silky horsehair.
Too long.
He knelt and set the apple slice on the ground, and then he turned and climbed back into the truck. Behind the wheel, he pulled out his cell and thumbed through his messages.
He had three, but none of them were from Dalton McGregor. Not that he’d expected one this soon. The man had given him a respectable timetable, and Garret had done enough reference checks to know that he kept his word. By Saturday MacGregor would have the information Garret so desperately needed to reclaim his humanity.
Two days, he reminded himself. Two days, and he would be one step closer to the man he’d once been.
The notion didn’t excite him half as much as the thought of seeing Viv again.
Understandable, of course. He was so damned hungry, so fucking desperate for a woman, that he couldn’t think straight. It wasn’t her.
It never had been.
The hunger clawed inside of him, and his fingers went stiff as he pocketed the cell phone. All he had to do was head for the interstate and the nearest bar. He could take his pick of any woman there and forget all about Viv Darland.
He shifted the pick-up into gear, gunned the engine and headed for the far gate. Once out on the main road, he idled for a split-second, indecision pushing and pulling inside of him. Finally, he hung a right onto the dirt trail that led back to the ranch house.
As much as he hurt, he wasn’t acting on it. He didn’t have time. The sun was already creeping over the horizon which meant he was bagging it today.
And tomorrow.
And the next day.
Because he’d made a promise to himself. One he didn’t intend to break, no matter how hungry Viv made him.
The next time Garret climbed into bed with a woman, it would be because he wanted to. Not because he had to. Because he craved the feel of her body and the smell of her skin and the dizzying energy as she came apart in his arms.
An image slid into his head, and his stomach muscles bunched. Heat spiraled through him, making him harder and hotter.
He cranked up the air conditioner, gathered his resolve and forced Viv out of his head.
He was keeping his priorities straight and his distance where she was concerned. Even more, he wasn’t getting stuck under the same roof with her while she leaned this way and bent that way and worked him into a sexually frustrated frenzy.
Never, ever again.
“FORGET THE EQUIPMENT BAG,” Garret said when he met Viv in the parking lot of Skull Creek Choppers on Wednesday evening. “We’re traveling light.”
Viv eyed the black and silver motorcycle with the skull and crossbones motif that now sat parked near the doorway. “A ride?”
“A road trip. I’ve got to test out this bike and make sure she performs up to spec before I send her out. The only way to do that is to take her out and open her up.”
Excitement flared in her gaze for a split-second before she seemed to tamp down on it long enough to give him a calm, controlled, “Sounds good.” She pulled out her camera before tossing her bag into the car, then slammed and locked the door. “So,” she said, turning back to the bike and hooking the camera strap over her shoulder. “How do we do this? Do I get on first or last?”
“First.”
When she started to straddle the chopper, he caught her arm. Skin met skin and the air around them seemed to crackle. She stalled, and her gaze locked with his. For just the smallest moment, the past seemed to fade. The hurt. The betrayal.
Suddenly it was just the two of them standing beneath the stars, staring into each other’s eyes the way they’d done so long ago.
When he’d been a man, and she’d been just a woman.
Or so he’d thought.
He stiffened and let his hand fall away. “Not that one.” He pointed to another chopper parked a few feet away near the back door. It was a silver and pink number he’d just completed for a runway model from New York. “That one. I’m shipping it out next week, and I want to do some final tweaks. You’re about the same size as the client, so you can give me a feel for how she’ll handle.”
“But I can’t ride.” For a split-second, there was more than simply dismay in her gaze. He saw a glimmer of uncertainty. Fear. And something softened inside of him.
“You can ride a horse, can’t you?”
“Sure. About a hundred years ago before I grew vampire cooties.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “It doesn’t matter. Once you’ve done it, you never forget how. Just stash your camera in that compartment beneath the seat, climb on, keep your knees locked and your hands steady, and you’ll be fine.”
She looked hesitant, but finally she walked over, stashed her camera and straddled the bike. Her fingers tightened on the hand grips. “I hope you have good insurance.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because if I fall off this thing, I’m going to sue.” When he started to remind her that her injuries would heal faster than he could call 911 or pull out a first aid kit, she added, “For the emotional duress I’m going to suffer when I fall on my ass in front of everyone and make a complete idiot of myself.”
“We’re taking the backroads, so the only one likely to see you on your ass will be me. I’ve busted my own more than once, so you’ll be in good company.”
She looked doubtful. “You’ve really fallen off one of these things?”
“One or two times.” He shrugged. “Or forty-three.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.” She eyed him.
“I was popping wheelies or racing or doing something equally stupid when I bit the dust. You won’t have that problem because we’re going to go nice and slow.”
She eyed the bike again, and disappointment glimmered before diving into the deep blue depths of her eyes. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I? If I want to ride, it’s this or nothing.”
“This or you can take pictures inside and wait for Jake and Dillon. I’m sure one of them would double up and give you a tour of the town when they come in.”
“But not you?”
“I’ve got my own bike to evaluate. I need an accurate ride,” he added, suddenly eager to convince himself. “Two people throw the balance off. I need to make shock and alignment adjustments. If you climb on, my readings will be messed up.” And so would his control.
Already, he could feel his body temperature rising. His hands trembled, and it was all he could do not to reach out and pull her close.
He wanted to taste her again.
To feel her.
“I’m crunched for time on this. The bike has to go out tomorrow.”
She sat there for a long moment as if trying to make up her mind. Stay or go. With him or without him. “It’s heavier than it looks,” she finally said, turning the handlebars from side to side.
“Only because it’s stationary. Once we start moving, she’ll loosen up.”
Indecision
faded into serious intent. “I really could use some firsthand experience,” she admitted. Then, eyeing the bike as if she were a bullfighter about to climb into the ring, she asked, “What do I do first?”
13
IT WAS NOTHING like riding a horse.
The cold metal against the insides of her bare knees. The hot exhaust blowing around her ankles. The soft, cushiony seat pillowing her bottom. The steady vibration between her legs.
A horse wasn’t nearly this exciting.
This stirring.
This decadent.
The wind whipped at her face and lifted the neckline of her blouse. Air teased her nipples, stirring them to a full, throbbing awareness. Electricity rippled up her spine and she chanced a glance to the side to see Garret staring back at her.
Again.
As reassuring as he’d been about her ability to ride, he seemed intent on keeping a close eye on her.
A strange warmth blossomed in her chest. A crazy feeling because the last thing she wanted from him was his concern.
Her nipples pebbled, and she shifted on the seat. A bad move even though she’d worn panties tonight. They were thin enough to be non-existent, and desire spurted through her, along with a rush of anxiety.
“How much longer until we get where we’re going?” she asked. Where the wind would have masked her voice to the normal human, Garret heard her loud and clear.
“It’s not about getting somewhere. It’s about the ride, sugar. Just relax.”
Sugar.
The sentiment stuck in her head, and the warmth spread from her chest throughout the rest of her body. Need spiraled through her, dive-bombing several erogenous zones and making her that much more uncomfortable. And desperate.
She tightened her grip on the handlebars and did her damndest not to shift on the seat. No problem when they were on the main highway. But when Garret turned off onto an old dirt path, Viv knew she was in big trouble.
Sure enough, she bounced this way and slid that way and rubbed up and down and—
Easy.
Yeah, right. By the time they came to a stop by the edge of a sprawling river, she was this close to going up in flames.
A Body to Die For Page 9
