Asking For It

by Alyssa Kress

  "She didn't know about my plans."

  "No lie. Boy — " Bert released an admiring breath. "You are one kinda operator."

  "So it seems."

  "Then I put that rattler in the cabin with you. An' I was nice about it. I made sure you were all alone in there." Bert emitted a disgusted sound. "But that didn't work, neither."

  "It was a great idea, though," Griffith allowed.

  "Yeah." Bert sighed. "But a Winchester should work better'n a good idea."

  During this conversation, Kate inched her way closer to the voices. Her brain was a whiz of frantic and contradictory plans of action. She should wait and see what happened. She should throw something heavy to one side and create a distraction. She should go back up the trail and call Rita to send someone immediately; a helicopter holding a troop of SWAT officers would be nice.

  Only the idea she had to stay calm enough to save Griffith's life kept her from freezing completely. She'd seen the animal skins nailed up outside Bert's place. He had no trouble killing things.

  "There's only one problem with using the rifle," Griffith remarked.

  "I know. It's mine. But I got that worked out. I'm thinkin' Kate came and borrowed it from me. Ever'body knows she hates you now. The sheriff will find it hidden under some straw in her barn."

  "Ingenious," Griffith said. "But that wasn't the problem I meant."

  Bert hesitated. Meanwhile, Kate nudged her face past the bush blocking her view. She could just make out the edge of Bert's left shoulder. Now, what should she do? Her heart slammed. Griffith was acting so calm, so cool — and he was the one with a rifle pointed at him. She had to calm down, too. Think.

  "What's the problem?" Bert asked at last, suspicious.

  "It's simply unnecessary to shoot me. Possibly even self-defeating. You see, I'm not building the housing project the engineer told you about in July. I'm not diverting the stream."

  "Yeah, yeah. I heard that story." Bert sounded spectacularly unimpressed.

  "It's not a story," Griffith told him. "After spending two weeks at Camp Wild Hills and...meeting Kate, I couldn't close the camp."

  Bert made a rude sound. Kate held her breath.

  "That construction trailer?" Griffith said. "It's a place from which to supervise the building of new cabins for the camp."

  "Five miles up the hill?" Bert asked, rightfully dubious.

  "No. The plan is to build a second site, down at the bottom of the hill. Adding stables. The kids could ride up and down the trail, trading bunks, trading horses. Or maybe there would be tents at the lower site, more roughing it. Oh, I didn't have it all worked out. I needed Kate to tell me what would work."

  Kate closed her eyes. Is that what he'd planned? A second camp site? Horses? But unsure what would please her, needing her input, input she'd repeatedly refused to give him. Her chest went hot and tight.

  "Hell." Bert sounded impressed now. "You really are a operator. Ta come up with a story like that on the spur of the moment."

  "It's not a story. Come down to the trailer with me. I'll show you the blueprints."

  "You'd like that, wouldn't ya."

  "I can prove it to you."

  By inching forward a bit more, Kate could see Bert shaking his head. "Don't think you can fool me, mister Blaine. You already tried feeding that line o' crap to Kate. If she didn't believe you, then I'm sure not goin' to."

  Kate saw Bert raise his rifle. Her heart — everything — seemed to come to a stop. Bert wouldn't believe Griffith now because she'd made it clear she didn't believe him. She'd refused to go into the trailer, and Bert had obviously seen that. By stubbornly clinging to her guilt over her brother's death this afternoon, she'd made Griffith out to be a villain to the man now holding a rifle aimed at his chest.

  A whole new load of guilt threatened to swamp her. It was her fault, this deadly situation was her fault. Oh, God, oh, God. But she sucked in a breath, and pulled herself together. Guilt wasn't going to get the job done. She needed to get past it and take action. Now.

  Kate saw the muscles under Bert's T-shirt bunch as he got ready to pull the trigger. She leapt, aiming for Bert's shoulder, wanting to tilt the aim of the gun.

  "What the — ?" Bert exclaimed, and reeled just the way Kate had wanted him to, sideways. The rifle went off with an enormous cracking sound. Kate didn't have a chance to worry Griffith might have been shot. He was on Bert like a tornado, arms swinging: swift, silent, skilled. The rifle tumbled to the ground amid Bert's surprised gasps.

  "Get the gun," Griffith commanded, a curt order that didn't stop the motion of his arms.

  Kate slipped in and grabbed the firearm. She hissed as her fingers met the hot part of the muzzle. She quickly moved to hold the butt end.

  "You okay?" Griffith asked this, sounding soft and concerned, even as he landed a debilitating punch to Bert's mid-section.

  "I'm — I'm fine." Kate couldn't take her eyes off of Griffith's astonishing proficiency. With two more well-placed blows, Bert was reduced to unconsciousness. "How did anyone ever manage to kidnap you?"

  The corner of Griffith's mouth twitched as he rose from Bert and faced Kate. "I told you it wasn't easy."

  "And you were teaching Orlando how to do this?" Kate held out the rifle as Griffith stepped toward her.

  An odd look crossed Griffith's face as he saw she was holding out the firearm. After a brief hesitation, he took it. "Yep."

  Kate was shaking. Now — now — she was going to fall apart. Or she would have, if Griffith hadn't had the foresight to wrap his free arm around her. She threw her own arms around him and squeezed as tightly as she possibly could. God, he felt good: alive, healthy...good. "Oh, Griffith. Griffith."

  "It's okay, now. Everything's okay. Man, you have great timing." Kate could feel that Griffith, too, was trembling.

  She lifted her face. "I was on my way down the hill to see you, to let you show me your blueprints."

  A laugh escaped Griffith.

  "They really do show everything you said to Bert, don't they?" Kate demanded. "Stables, more cabins?"

  "Well..." Griffith grimaced. "I'm not certain what they show, anymore. Having no idea what I'm doing, I've got the architect up to Alternate E."

  Kate's laughter was a deep rumble. "I bet I could cut that down to one or two options."

  "I had a feeling you'd be able to."

  Kate's rumbling laughter turned grim. "God, if I'd only let you show them to me this morning, Bert might have believed you. He might never have felt the need to go after you today."

  Griffith's smile faded. "It's possible." He continued slowly, with his eyes close on her. "But we can't run our lives based on what some madman might do."

  Suddenly, as if the skies had opened up, Kate got it. Yes, she'd fallen in love with Eric, but she hadn't agreed to help embezzle money from the dealership. She hadn't run away from a sheriff's transport bus. She hadn't pulled the trigger of that gun-happy deputy.

  Kate closed her eyes and buried her face against Griffith's side. She squeezed even tighter. "I love you." She drew in a breath. "And thank you for being so stubborn."

  "It's a failing of mine." Griffith sighed and held Kate just as close as she was holding him. "I hate to lose."

  Kate laughed and sobbed and squished against him. She felt free: free to love and be loved.

  It didn't matter that in one hand the man she loved held a rifle or that a sad case gone too far lay unconscious a few yards away. When Griffith lifted Kate's chin to kiss her, Kate felt utterly safe, and completely in the right place.

  She kissed him back.

  ~~~

  "I wasn't sure we'd ever get to sleep tonight." Ricky yawned extravagantly. Lying on his back in the narrow camp bed in Bunkhouse Three — the warmest of the bunkhouses, Kate had promised him — he had one arm around Deirdre and the other bent behind his head.

  "The sheriff's deputy was rather...confused," Deirdre agreed.

  Ricky barked a laugh. "Diplomatic way of saying h
e was slow-witted."

  Deirdre turned toward Ricky and placed a palm on his bare chest. "You have to admit the situation is rather complicated." She and Ricky had driven his car hurriedly up the road after hearing the rifle shot. They'd found Kate and Griffith standing guard over an unconscious man Ricky told Deirdre was named Bert LeBow, a ne'er-do-well who shacked out in a cabin on the other side of the hill. Minutes later, while Deirdre and Ricky were wide-eyedly trying to find out what had happened, the sound of a siren had pierced the night air, struggling closer.

  It had taken awhile, but eventually the deputy who'd arrived in the patrol car had sorted out who was the bad guy — not Griffith, after all. He'd taken statements and, after receiving the promise everyone would stay in the area for more detailed interviews the next day, he'd carted Bert off.

  "Did I mention you're helping me live out one of my earliest fantasies?" Ricky turned so that his lips touched Deirdre's.

  "You mean the fantasy of finding the woman of your dreams and knowing she loves you as much as you love her?" Deirdre kissed him, just as lightly and teasingly as he was kissing her.

  "Actually...I was thinking of the fantasy of having a naked woman in my bed at camp." Ricky touched Deirdre's lips again, but this time flicking his tongue between them with wicked intent.

  "Oh. How romantic." Deirdre meant the words to come out dry, but ruined the effect by giggling.

  "I love you," Ricky murmured.

  Deirdre hitched a breath, but managed to sound cool. "Are you sure you're not just trying to get into my pants?" But she wrapped her arms quite willingly around Ricky as he smoothed his hands down her naked back.

  "Well, there is that." Ricky sighed, clearly liking the feel of Deirdre's rear end beneath his palms. "But a lot more. It's good to need you, Deirdre. Because it makes me realize how much you do for me, how much...I can be when I'm with you."

  "Oh, Ricky." Deirdre closed her eyes as a marvelous warmth flowed through her.

  "We're together now, aren't we?" There was an endearing note of uncertainty in his voice.

  "We're together," Deirdre assured him, dimly marveling that she, the wallflower, was reassuring him, the dashing Romeo.

  "Good," Ricky said, and pulled her hips close to his.

  "Ricky..." Just before she gave herself completely to his tender seduction, she thought of her last sight of her boss and Kate when they'd all said goodnight at the door of Kate's cabin. Deirdre had seen Griffith's hand gripping Kate's close, as if afraid of letting her go. "Ricky," she asked. "Do you suppose Kate and Griffith are going to be all right, too?"

  "I have no idea," Ricky said roughly, while palming Deirdre's rear. "And right now I don't care."

  ~~~

  "You know, this is totally fulfilling a fantasy of mine," Griffith said, rolling off of Kate. They'd collapsed in her bed, supposedly to sleep, but had ended up stripping off their clothes and making mad love despite their mutual exhaustion.

  Kate was still panting. "Your fantasies are reassuringly tame."

  "Not if you take into account that was the first time I got to be on top." On his side now, Griffith hooked a leg over Kate's knees. "But sex isn't what I was talking about. I meant the fantasy of making love here." Griffith used his leg to give Kate a tug. "In your bed."

  Kate patted the leg Griffith had over her knees. "I didn't know that was a fantasy of yours."

  "Bull." Griffith grinned. "You always made sure to say goodbye very firmly at the door. All those nights we had to rough it under the oak tree."

  "You're saying I was withholding?"

  "Uh... Yup."

  Kate laughed. "I suppose I was."

  And now? Kate could see the question in Griffith's gray eyes, but he didn't ask it. Instead he gave another little tug with his leg. "I'm going to New York next week."

  Something fluttered under her breastbone. He was leaving? "Ahem. Oh?" she asked.

  He smiled. "To visit my mother. Wanna come?"

  Kate's eyes widened.

  "Which part is surprising: that I have a mother or that I'm going to visit her?"

  "Neither. Uh — " Kate swallowed. "I guess the part where you ask me to come along."

  "Oh." Griffith's steady gaze dropped to where he rubbed a lock of Kate's hair between his fingers. "That make you nervous?"

  "Um..." He had to ask?

  Curling her hair around his finger, Griffith admitted, "I won't say you shouldn't be. Once my mother gets a load of you, she'll be all over me to put a ring on your finger. And if I manage to do that, she'll be clamoring night and day for grandkids."

  Kate stared at Griffith.

  He flicked his gaze to her eyes. "I'm no bargain. Gotta lot of baggage and bad habits, but...I'm learning. And I really love you, Kate. You don't actually have to marry me if you come to New York with me, but — " He pulled a little on her hair. "I'd sure like your company. And for you to meet my mom." He paused, adding very low. "And for you to marry me."

  Kate closed her parted lips. She touched her forehead to Griffith's. He was a hero, in more ways than she'd ever dreamed. Could she accept that, or that he, such a good guy, actually wanted her? She squeezed her eyes closed, feeling happiness like a bubbling, way down low. Dare she let it come flowing up?

  Kate pulled her head back. She looked straight into Griffith's gray eyes. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'd love to come to New York with you. Yes, I'm nervous about meeting your mother. And..."

  She hesitated. Was she ready? Could she accept this as the gift it was? She took a deep breath. "And yes, I'll marry you."

  Griffith drew in a sharp breath, then shouted. Wrapping her in his arms, he whirled with her right out of the bed. "Yes!" he clamored. "I love that word, yes." He pulled Kate close and gave her a deep and hungry kiss.

  "I want to live here," he said, abruptly releasing her from the kiss. "Right here in this cabin."

  "Really?" Kate raised her eyebrows. "It's kinda far from L.A."

  "Exactly." Griffith laughed.

  "Well, I suppose nowadays you can get a lot done with just a telephone and a computer, but Griffith, we don't have telephone or Internet up here."

  "You will, doll." Griffith tugged her close again. "You're going to have the best telephone service and the highest speed Internet access available."

  "Oh, dear," Kate said.

  "We'll need it to complete construction of those new cabins on the accelerated schedule I worked out," Griffith explained.

  "Oh, dearie dear."

  "But don't worry, sweetheart." Griffith's smile warmed. "I won't be using the phone or the computer once the whistle blows."

  "And I'm supposed to believe that?" Kate shook her head affectionately. She knew who she was dealing with.

  "Believe it." With a happy, possibly wicked, sparkle in his eye, Griffith reached out for the satellite phone Kate had set on her bureau top. He set the switch to 'off' and put it on the night table. "Let's go back to bed, Kate."

  Laughing, Kate put her arms around him. "And sleep late?" she asked.

  "And sleep very late," Griffith agreed.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Alyssa Kress completed her first novel at age six, an unlikely romance between a lion and a jackal. Despite earning two degrees from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and spending nearly a decade in the construction industry, she's yet to see her feet stay firmly on the ground. She now lives in Southern California, together with her husband and two children.

  You can learn more about Alyssa Kress and her other novels at http://www.alyssakress.com.

  Other books by Alyssa Kress:

  Marriage by Mistake

  The Heart Heist

  The Indiscreet Ladies of Green Ivy Way

  Preview of Love and the Millionairess

  She was the sweetest thing Mitch had ever seen.

  From his position standing under a '05 Volvo on the mechanic's lift, Mitch watched her cool, cream-colored lines as she sailed into his garage. His heart l
eapt in his chest. Man, oh man oh man.

  Two hundred and ninety-four horsepower, 4.2 liter engine, all packing speed in a feather-light aluminum frame, the Jaguar XK8 pulling in was a car to make any red-blooded male gasp for breath. She could do 0 to 60 in 6.3 seconds. She could round corners like hugging. She was power, class, and beauty, all wrapped in one.

  Go ahead and look. Mitch's mouth quirked. Yeah, looking wasn't going to cost him anything, but a working class bum like himself wasn't likely to do more than that. After buying this garage two years ago, there wasn't enough left over to get a new Volkswagen, let alone a Jag. So Mitch hung one hand on the side of the lift and looked his fill.

  Meanwhile the XK8 purred into the empty berth next to the lifted Volvo, shuddered inelegantly, and with a horrible rattling sound, died.

  Oh, that was sad. Lowering his wrench, Mitch started to hunch out from under the side beam of the lift. Then the driver side door of the XK8 clicked open. Mitch came to a complete halt. In fact it was all he could do to keep breathing as a woman every bit the match to her car stepped out.

  Power, class, and beauty. She wore a skirt suit that skimmed her curves with well-tailored ease. High heels gave an accented end to some long, long legs, and her cream-blond hair was pulled into a sleek and elegant twist. She came to a stand by the side of her car, spine straight, a calfskin briefcase in one hand, and her long-lashed eyes looking around with an expression of incredulous dismay.

  Mitch's heart had leapt for the Jag. That was nothing compared to what it did now, even though the woman's expression said what she thought of his humble, if excellent, garage, even though normally he wasn't any kind of a lech -- and even though cool, unapproachable females weren't his type, not at all.

  Nevertheless, he couldn't help swallowing as he ducked under the side beam of the lift. The lady truly was magnificent, all silk and steel and cream. And God knew it had been a while.

  "Hey," he said. Pulling up his best smile, he grabbed a rag out of his back pocket to wipe the grease off his hands. "Good morning there."