by Cindy Stark
"What?" She gave his arm a friendly smack. "I told you not to look."
"But I didn't agree."
"You are not an upstanding officer of the law."
"Honey, I might be a lawman, but I'm still a man." He tugged on her shirt, looking up at her under raised brows. "Off."
She exhaled a sigh of frustration. He was good. Damn good. There was nothing she loved more than a worthy opponent. Well, except a worthy opponent with his shirt off.
The first button on her cotton shirt offered no resistance as she undid it. The second quickly followed.
"Wait. Slow down. I want to enjoy this."
She lifted a brow, her internal temperature shooting through the roof. He wanted a show, did he? Fine. She'd give him one that would make him regret his little professional relationship speech. She might have lost the first round of cards, but she'd be a fool to not take advantage of her current opportunity. "Whatever you say, deputy."
She stepped forward putting one of her thighs between his, bringing her breasts just above his eye level. She wasn't sure where the hell she was going with this, but right now she didn't care. She'd spent so many months hiding from her father and essentially from life. The sparks between her and Milo were intense, addictive, and she couldn't stop.
She trailed her fingers down the gaping vee of her shirt to the third button, his eyes widening with interest. She popped the button open, revealing a good expanse of her bra.
His smile grew bigger. "Mmm…purple. Sexy." He took hold of her hips as though he was afraid she'd bolt.
She removed his hands. "Touching was not part of the game."
His gaze jumped to hers and then narrowed. "Touché."
She finished unbuttoning her shirt with agonizing slowness, wondering if she was torturing him or her more. When she finished, she put her hands behind her back, tugging off her sleeves, and conveniently thrusting her breasts forward.
The feel of his warm breath on her skin and the dark desire burning in his eyes caused her to inhale sharply.
"Shit." He stood so fast his chair nearly toppled. He backed away from her, his face a mixture of passion and agony. "I concede. You win this round." He headed for the back door. "I need some air." The alluring smell of rain rushed in as he walked out.
Just like that she stood in his kitchen, shirtless and stunned. "What the hell?" she muttered as she pushed her hands through her sleeves and followed after him. He couldn't walk away like that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Milo strode out the door, continued past the porch, stumbling to the center of the yard. He lifted his face toward the heavens, letting the blessed cool rain wash away some of the heat consuming his body. The back door slammed. He knew she'd come outside, but he wasn't ready to face her yet.
She shoved his arm, her anger evident as he turned to her. "What the hell was that?"
"Go away, Ariana." He owed her an explanation, but he wasn't sure he could explain the fiery ball of desire that had overwhelmed him while the storm raged. He'd thought their teasing might have been a fun way to spend the evening, even though he knew he'd ignored many policies the U.S. Marshals would have held him to. But he wasn't in the Marshals any longer, and they were both adults.
He'd been dead wrong. He'd thought he could handle himself with her? Big joke. Even now with her standing in the rain, her shirt still unbuttoned, all he could think about was how badly he wanted to pull her to the grass and make fierce love to her.
"No. You need to talk to me. One second we're flirting and having fun, and then you bail with no explanation. That's not okay."
He gave her a chilly, don't-mess-with-me look. He was such a dumb ass. How could he have forgotten what had happened the last time he didn't follow the rules? Yes, Ariana was the sexiest thing he'd come across…maybe ever, but she wasn't his for the taking. Intense chemistry between them made the situation extremely volatile. He had to remember she was only a client, not the smartest and sexiest woman he could remember meeting. His job was to protect her life. Her job was to stay alive to testify and then move on to a permanent new identity. He'd never see her again. But she'd be alive. "I've already explained to you about maintaining the integrity of our relationship."
"Yes, you did, but I thought we agreed we could handle it. You seemed so cocky, so self-assured inside. What happened?"
He'd never be able to explain how much his feelings for her terrified him. He glanced down at her chest where her blouse still remained open. "You need to button that."
She frowned, clearly unhappy with the direction their evening was headed. "Not until you talk to me." She pushed away the wet strands of hair that had plastered to her cheeks.
He worked the muscles in his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Why can't you do what I ask?"
"I'm going to be stuck in this house with you for the next month, so I need answers. If there's a problem, let's talk like adults. If that's not an option, I'll pack and find somewhere else to stay."
An angular flash of lightning cracked the sky as his heart jolted. "Do not leave my protection." God, the last time that had happened…he couldn't think about it.
He grabbed her hand and more or less dragged her to the porch, out of the rain. "If you want to stay alive, you need to listen to me when I tell you to do something." A drop of water cascaded down her neck, capturing his attention as it ran over the curve of one breast and under her purple bra. "You need to do up those buttons, or better yet, go inside and dry off."
She folded her arms under her breasts, lifting them higher, and he cursed under his breath. "Talk to me."
The fact that he couldn't control her heightened his frustration. Emotion warred beneath his surface. He had to make her see reason. He pushed her backward, trapping her against the door. She widened her eyes, but it wasn't fear on her face. The smoldering look she gave him sent a sharp, pointed tremble straight through him, undoing everything the rain had cooled.
He leaned down so his face was inches from hers. "You really want to know? Fine. I'm attracted to you. Extremely attracted. But I've been charged with your protection. I should have refrained from flirting with you. Rule number one—don't get personally involved with your clients. It's not ethical, and it's not smart."
And it could cost a client her life.
He gave her the most intense look he could conjure, hoping she'd get the point. It was the only way they'd survive the month intact. If he was still in the Marshals, he could ask to have her reassigned. Not now. He was her last hope.
She searched his eyes, and he was almost certain he'd gotten through to her. "I don't care."
Before he could question her further, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his in a possessive kiss.
Her warm lips tasted like the berries she'd nibbled, and he couldn't deny himself any longer. Need exploded inside him. He shoved her against the door, framing her face with his hands, losing himself in the exquisite feel of her.
Her tongue danced against his, her hands slipping under his wet t-shirt and finding bare skin. Unbelievable sensations sent his blood shooting through him, making him rock hard. He kissed her until he couldn't breathe. When he came up for air, reality gave him the bitch-slap he deserved. He stumbled back.
"Damn it." He raked shaking hands through his hair, drinking in the sight of her standing in the yellow glow of the porch light, her eyes wide with surprise, her breasts heaving from their heated interaction. He took a step back, her surprise turning to confusion. "That can't happen again. That can never happen again."
She watched him for several long seconds, and then without a word, she went into the house shutting the door behind her. He would have preferred it if she'd slammed the door. Her anger he could understand and, therefore, could handle. If she'd even left the door open signaling there might be some sort of reconciliation after they'd cooled, that would have been better.
Instead, a frighteningly cool shield had slipped
over her expression, like what they'd done, what she might have experienced meant nothing to her. Was that truly how she felt? 'Cause it meant a lot more than nothing to him.
He'd really fucked up this time. He scrubbed his hands through his soaked hair again and went inside the house to face the aftermath.
* * *
Ariana stayed in bed much longer than she should have. She'd awoken with a startle as usual, but she hadn't been able to make herself get out of bed. Instead, she'd tossed for more than an hour, trying to fall back asleep. Facing Milo required more courage than she had at the moment.
She'd made a complete, unadulterated ass of herself the previous evening. She'd pushed Milo into a corner, forcing him to choose between playing strip poker or seeming like a prude. When he'd gotten caught up in the moment, she'd seduced him, and when he'd tried to cool things, she'd kissed him like there was no tomorrow.
Maybe that's because there might not be a tomorrow for her. Or maybe because too many of her yesterdays were tortured, lonely, or just plain unhappy days. What a disaster her life had become. She'd hoped testifying would be the first step toward improvement, but the trial was taking too damn long to arrive. The more she was left waiting, the worse choices she made.
She'd done too many irresponsible things, enough that Quinn had pulled her from the Marshal's protection and placed her with Milo. Then she'd turned around and created chaos here as well, and she'd only been living with him for two days. Good Lord, somebody stop her.
The sound of a door closing and an engine starting brought her upright in bed. She jumped up and raced to her window to see Milo's truck driving away.
He'd left her alone.
A driving spear of sadness sank deep within her. She shouldn't feel bad. She was perfectly safe. Not a soul other than Quinn knew her whereabouts, and Milo had mentioned going to the store. It's just that she'd really wanted to go. Even if it was only to sit in the car. She'd been forced into seclusion for far too long.
She wallowed in her misery long enough to pour herself a glass of orange juice, and then she gave herself a mental kick in the butt. She had less than a month. The worst was nearly over. A couple more weeks and then she'd be able to move forward. She could do this. She had to.
Milo had left a note on the table letting her know he'd headed to town for groceries and to check on his mother, and he'd be back soon.
Soon. But not soon enough.
She took her juice out and sat on the porch swing. The evening's storm had moved on, leaving only trace remnants of twigs and leaves scattered across the lawn. Morning sun heated the porch. She tucked her legs beneath her, letting the bright light warm her.
Being in the peaceful fresh air helped lift her spirits. With the exception of the little issue she'd created with Milo the previous night, perhaps Quinn sending her to the middle of nowhere had been his best idea yet. She might be isolated, but she wasn't trapped inside a building. Here, she could wander and explore without worry of being found.
No one said she couldn't entertain herself while Milo was gone.
She quickly dressed and strapped on his pistol. The likelihood of her father's men finding her was slim, but she wasn't fool enough to think it was non-existent.
Soon, she was following the same footpath Milo had taken her along the day before. It would do her good to get some exercise. She could walk to the river and be back long before Milo returned.
As predicted, it didn't take her long to reach their spot. The quiet river from the previous day had swelled from the massive amounts of rain they'd received, partially burying the rock she and Milo had fished from. She smiled, remembering her ridiculous dive into the river. It had been a good day. A really good day…until she'd messed it up.
She slipped off her shoes, not wanting a repeat experience of walking home in squishy Nikes. She removed Milo's pistol for the same reason and placed it on her shoes. The river rushed by as she sat on the edge of the rock, the coolness of the stone filtering through her jeans. The water was faster today, more powerful. Leaves and small branches cruised along the surface, apparent victims of the storm. Still, it carried the same appealing sound, the same ability to wash away her stress.
Maybe she'd been wrong about small towns all along. During her previous relocations, the obscure places where she'd been forced to live had stifled her. There'd been nothing to do, nothing but boredom to suck the life out of her. She'd craved going to the theatre with Kenzie or dining at a fine restaurant, the things her father's tainted money could purchase. She'd been torn, wanting to rid herself of that lifestyle, but missing it all the same.
This time was different. Instead of viewing her temporary surroundings from behind a plate of glass, she was actively interacting with nature. Feeling the grass beneath her feet, listening to the rush of the river, and smelling the sweet air.
She dipped a toe into the cold water. This was a place she could heal. Once the trial was over, she'd have vindication for Danny's death. She wouldn't be coming back here, but maybe she could go somewhere similar, somewhere she could finally put the first part of her life behind her and look forward to building a new future, a future she could proudly claim. All she had to do was hold out for a month, and then she'd have a new chance at life.
She never should have kissed Milo. As amazing as he'd been, kissing him had only provided a temporary distraction and had definitely muddied the waters between them. Not fair to either of them. If she messed things up with her protector, she'd have nowhere to go. Quinn would kill her figuratively, and if she came out of deep cover, her father might kill her literally.
The sound of approaching male voices jerked her from her reverie. She slid Milo's gun from the holster and tucked it in her waistband, covering the weapon with the hem of her shirt.
* * *
"I can't do this, Quinn." Milo sat in his truck along the side of the road, just a mile from his house. He'd been to the grocery store, but had forgone stopping at his mom's house. She'd know in a second something was wrong, and she wouldn't stop until she had the truth. "I can't remain objective and focused where Ariana is concerned. I don't think I'm the one who should protect her. It's not fair to her."
A laugh came through the speaker on his phone.
"This isn't funny."
"I know she can be a bit of a firecracker."
"Quinn, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you. This is her life we're talking about."
His friend cleared his throat. "You want a serious conversation. Then here you go. You are her last chance. I thought I made this clear before. There are no other options. She's been compromised too many times to be put back into the system. Her father has long-reaching arms, and somehow, he's infiltrated the Marshals. My most recent reports state he's trying to get the trial postponed again in an effort to give him more time to find her. He wants her, Milo. He wants her dead."
"I understand this, but having Ariana in my home is more difficult than I thought it would be. Before long, they'll call me back to work. Maybe she could stay with you for the next couple of weeks."
"Your work situation has been handled. There's been a glitch in the investigation, and it will take a couple more weeks to get back on track. And no, Milo, she can't stay with me. I'm being watched. Why do you think I sent her to you in the first place?"
Milo sighed. "She's a beautiful woman, Quinn."
"I'm well aware."
"Did she flirt with you? Tempt you and tease you like this is all a big game?"
A silent pause came across the phone. "No. Is she flirting with you?"
"She took her shirt off last night during strip poker. Picture her, man. Popping buttons open, inches from your body, flirting with you like crazy." He couldn't bear to talk about the sizzling kiss they'd shared. "How am I supposed to remain professional?"
"Explain to me why you were playing strip poker in the first place."
Milo scrubbed a hand down his face. "I don't know. There was a big storm. She was bor
ed. It was supposed to be regular poker, but she somehow convinced me to play."
"Seriously? She was bored? She convinced you? Do you realize how moronic that sounds?"
Ah…shit. He did. "You don't understand. She's very…distracting." He knew the moment he'd muttered the words they wouldn't help his case.
"What happened to the cold-blooded soldier I knew in Afghanistan? The guy who could stay completely focused on a target despite the chaos raining down around him?"
He drew his brows together, now wondering the same thing. He wasn't some weak-ass kid out of high school. He had skills. He had training. Why the hell wasn't he using them? "You're right. I let her mess with my head." She'd slipped under his radar when he hadn't been paying attention, but he had her in his sights now. He'd figured out her MO, and he could deal with this.
"So you're good then? I'm counting on you, man. If not you, I've got nothing."
"I'm good. I can handle her." Hell, she was just a woman. He'd been up against insurgents and rebels. People who wouldn't give a second thought before killing him.
He'd manage Ariana.
"Thanks for setting me straight."
"Any time. Don't let her get to you, Milo. She needs you to be strong. She may not show it, but she's under a tremendous amount of emotional stress right now. This has dragged on for many months. I think she can sense the end is in sight, and she's starting to fray a little at the edges."
He was an idiot. He should have been able to figure this out for himself. He'd allowed her to get under his skin, and he'd reacted instead of anticipating and planning ahead. That wasn't like him at all. "You're right. Sorry for the call. I'll take good care of her, Quinn."
He shut off his phone, disappointed in himself. When had he ever had a job he couldn't complete? Never. That's all protecting Ariana was. A job.
Keeping that reminder at the forefront of his thoughts was all the armor he'd need.
She was a job.
* * *
Ariana could barely breathe as the male voices drew near. She'd run, but she couldn't be certain where the men were, and she'd likely end up running right into them. The other side of the river was banked by a fairly steep bluff, and she couldn't see anyone up there. She glanced across the grassy fields behind her and couldn't see anyone there either. But the voices were coming closer.
