by Lori Foster
Or maybe it was that throb of sexual tension that had her shying away. His nostrils flared on the thought.
No, he sternly told himself. She’s off-limits. The rational part of him understood that. But the more primitive part felt driven to show her how good it’d be.
Luckily for all concerned, he’d quit letting his dick make decisions a long time ago.
“I don’t like to be called Red.”
So most of her reaction was over a nickname—a nickname, he reasoned, that suited her perfectly given the vivid color of her hair. “Want to tell me why?” Was it because, as she’d claimed, it was disrespectful, or because she was touchy about her incredible hair?
“Not particularly.”
Hmm. Looking at the way she’d tortured it into a tight knot at the top of her head, minimizing it as much as she could, he didn’t need her confirmation that it was the latter.
Should he delve, or let it go? Maybe a compromise would be best—not a hard push, but a gentle opening for her to share. He wasn’t ineffective with women. He could be charming when he put his mind to it.
He flashed a glance her way, but charming or not, her expression wasn’t promising.
Screw it. “I’m guessing some asshole used to tease you or something?”
Incredulous, she glared at him.
“I hope it’s not still bothering you, because your hair is...” He trailed off, at a loss for the right description.
Ripe with suspicion, she asked, “My hair is what?”
Brodie shook his head. “I was trying to think of the right words, but I’m as far from a poet as a guy can get. Let’s just say it’s stunning.”
“Stunning?”
He gave a sharp nod. “And not to overstep my lowly employee status—”
She made a rude sound.
“—it’s also sexy as hell.”
Lips parting, her hand lifted to her hair, but she stopped short of touching it. Her chin firmed. “It’s red.”
“No shit. Smokin’ hot red.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “Like I said, sexy.”
Her hesitation pulsed in the air, then she said primly, “It makes me look cheap.”
The incredulous laugh came before he could stop it. “Cheap? With the way you carry yourself? How the hell do you figure that?”
She started to speak, but rethought whatever she would have said and instead pointed out, “You, along with a lot of other people, assumed I dyed it that color on purpose.” In a lower voice, she added, “As if.”
“Hey, I’m not a beautician or anything, but I can tell it’s real.” All those different shades picked up by the sunlight were too remarkable to be faked. At various times he saw gold, auburn, brown, burgundy and scarlet. The hair around her face was a little lighter, sort of a strawberry blond, and it looked really soft. “That was just me joking, maybe getting a little payback.”
Her lashes swept up in an expression of surprise. “Payback?”
“Now, don’t act surprised.” Feeling more in his element, Brodie smiled. “You want to talk respect? How about the way you looked at me like I was a bug on your shoe when we first met?”
Her brows came down in a ferocious frown. “You were hungover.”
“So? Newsflash, people are allowed to drink. Besides, it was my day off and we weren’t expecting you. If I’d known you were going to show up, I’d have been better prepared.”
Testing him, she asked, “If it was your day off, what were you doing there?”
“Working on Matilda.” Gaining traction on his argument, he went on to say, “And how do you know I didn’t have good reason to get hammered? Maybe I was dealing with something monumental. Something tragic. Did you think of that?”
White teeth caught that plump lower lip as she studied him with concern.
Did she know how that affected him? He doubted it. She seemed extremely unaware of her own appeal.
In a small, concerned voice, Mary whispered, “Were you dealing with something awful?”
He took perverse pleasure in saying, “Nope.”
Breath left her and she demanded, “Then why did you insinuate it?”
“Just to make a point.”
Bristly now, she crossed her arms. “Being?”
“You started it.”
She huffed, sitting back in the seat. “Okay, fine. I did make assumptions and I was probably rude first. I’m sorry. But once you knew I was a potential client, you should have been more professional.”
“Probably.” Brodie grinned as he shook his head. “But the way you looked at me felt like a challenge, and I admit, I’m not good at backing down.” He reached out with his right hand. “Truce?”
After thinking about it for far too long, she put her small, cool hand to his.
Fuck me, I will not get a boner over a handshake.
It was the female to his male that spiked a heated reaction. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her delicate knuckles. Her skin was so smooth, soft and warm. He knew she had a backbone of iron, yet she felt incredibly fragile. He cradled her hand in his, very aware of the sexual charge arcing between them.
She probably didn’t like it.
He savored it anyway. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time a simple touch felt like so much more.
When she lightly tugged, he let her go, and she retreated to the corner of her seat, getting comfortably settled with her legs crossed under that frothy skirt.
As if she hadn’t just made him edgy with awareness, she gifted him with a warm, sincere smile and said softly, “I’m glad you didn’t have anything tragic going on.”
God, he had it bad. When was the last time he’d fumbled this badly with a woman?
Since Mary Daniels, obviously. She’d breezed in, leveled him with her contempt, cut him with her authoritative manner and left him half-hard, all at the same time.
Neat trick, Red. Dangerous trick.
He’d have to stay sharp around her.
“Yep, me, too.” Needing the distraction, he glanced in the rearview mirror, and sure enough the SUV still followed.
He’d noticed it right away, but hadn’t yet said anything. He didn’t want to alarm Mary.
“So why did you get drunk?”
Good. If she pried, he could pry in return, and that suited him just fine. “Actually, life is pretty damn good, so it was sort of a celebration. Hanging with friends, playing cards, drinking, yukking it up. Old school–style, ya know? Reliving the good times.”
“Getting drunk and suffering a hangover the next day is what you consider good times?”
“Sure.” He glanced in the mirrors again, saw the SUV and switched lanes. “Ever tried it?”
“No, thank you.”
“I wasn’t inviting you to a drunken revelry, Red...er, Mary.” He shook his head. To him, she was already Red and remembering to call her Mary would take some adjustment. “Though if you ever want to give it a try, let me know. I’ll be your designated bodyguard and driver, so no one takes advantage and to make sure you get home safely. Deal?”
She circled a finger in the air. “Let’s rewind this a bit.”
Knowing he’d smothered her anger with nonsense, he grinned. “Sure.”
“I’ll agree to a more relaxed relationship if you stop deliberately riling me.”
“But it’s so fun.”
Though her lips twitched, her brows pinched together, almost making him laugh. “You’ll just have to find your amusement elsewhere.”
When she fascinated him? Okay, so he needed to tone it down. He could do that... “On one condition.”
“You don’t get conditions.”
Ignoring that, he said, “Tell me why you dislike that glorious hair.”
“No.” Mary drew her phone out of her briefcase and started texting.
&nbs
p; “C’mon,” he cajoled. “You can tell me.”
She continued working on her phone.
Disappointed, he shook his head. “The old tried-and-true silent treatment, huh? I thought you’d be more unique than that.”
“If you must know, I’m prioritizing. Therman likes to be kept apprised of what’s going on during our trips.”
No way. He flattened his mouth. “You’re telling him that I’m curious about your hair?”
“What? No, of course not,” she said in exasperation. “Therman wouldn’t care about that.”
He didn’t relax. Not yet. “Then what?”
She looked up at him as if he were a dunce. “I’m letting him know we’re being followed.” She finally put the phone away and turned to glance out the rear window. “I think it’s the same SUV the men in the rest stop were driving. They must have circled around.”
Floored, he felt his jaw slacken. “You knew they were there?”
One eyebrow rose in disapproval. “You didn’t?”
“Of course I did.” As the driver, he paid attention to everything. “They’ve been tailing us for a while now, staying about five cars back.”
“You don’t have to sound so snippy about it.”
“Snippy?” He’d never been snippy a day in his life.
She shrugged. “You didn’t let on.”
“Neither did you!”
As if soothing him, she said, “I didn’t want to alarm you.”
That was so absurd that Brodie was forced to laugh. “Figured you’d somehow deal with it all on your own, rather than bother the driver who’s twice your size?”
“I’d have told you eventually. After all, we don’t want them following us the entire way. At some point, you’re going to have to lose them. But we have some time.”
Brodie grinned when he glanced at her. “You surprise me, Red.” He waited a heartbeat, then corrected, “Mary.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Red Mary is worse than just plain Red, so pick one please and then stick to it.”
Her capitulation thrilled him. It was like she’d just given him more, much more, than the use of a nickname.
Regardless of what name she went by, he looked forward to knowing her better.
“Well, Mary, hold on tight. With your approval, I’ll lose them now rather than later.”
She smiled at him and, in that prim voice that was starting to sound sensual instead of annoying, said, “Yes, please.”
* * *
AS HE WOVE them seamlessly through the traffic, off an exit ramp, along a short drive through a commercial area, then back onto the expressway again, Mary had a revelation: everything about Brodie Crews was over-the-top.
His rugged good looks.
His teasing manner.
His frank way of speaking.
And now, she had to add, his skill at driving. He maneuvered with ease, weaving through traffic without speeding, seeming to find his way in and out of communities instinctively, all the while being completely relaxed.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for seeing his anger at the men who’d approached his car, she would wonder if Brodie Crews took anything seriously.
For the rest of the drive, she helped keep watch but she didn’t spot the SUV again.
Finally, she could relax, too. “I think you lost them.”
He shot her a look of comical indignation. “You had doubts?”
Not really. And for some absurd reason, she was proud of him. What would he think if she told him that? He’d probably make a few more jokes, laugh it off and continue being outrageous.
Belatedly, she answered him, “No.”
“No?”
“I didn’t have any real doubts.”
“Good. Because my guess is that they’ll somehow catch up to us on the way back. I mean, if they’re following, the whole point would be to steal from us whatever your boss bought, right?”
That was always a possibility. There’d been other times where she and a driver were waylaid, the goods stolen and she’d had to go back to Therman empty-handed.
She would avoid that as best she could. “Yes, it’s possible.”
Cavalier, somewhat cocky, he said, “Hey, don’t sweat it. I’ll make sure we make the delivery, and on time, too.”
Mary appreciated his confidence because it boosted her own—especially as they left the highway for the less traveled roads that would take them to their destination.
Giving up her vigilance, she watched Brodie instead. His relaxed posture belied the alert way he took in his surroundings.
She realized that he knew trouble could happen, but also believed that he could handle it.
Astounding.
She’d never known a man so convincingly capable. She’d call him arrogant, except that he was so big, so powerful and formidably hard all over, it was easy to believe he could handle just about everything that might come their way.
Thinking that warmed her and she slipped off her button-up shirt, leaving her in the thin tank top, her arms exposed to the cooler air-conditioning. That helped, but not enough.
Especially when she knew that Brodie noted her every movement, even though he wasn’t obvious about it.
More heat uncurled from deep inside her, making her breasts feel heavy, her inner thighs tight. It was an unfamiliar heat, but she recognized it for what it was—base lust.
For Brodie. Insane. Ill-advised.
But apparently unavoidable.
Before she did something stupid, it seemed wise to distract herself by ensuring Brodie understood every possibility. “They could have been following us for another reason.”
“Yeah?” He pulled up to a red light and, after checking the traffic in every direction, turned to look at her. “What’s that?”
Having that dark, direct gaze aimed at her didn’t help to redirect her thoughts. His eyelashes were almost girlie, they were so thick and dark, but Brodie was more elementally male than any man she’d ever met.
He quirked a brow. “If we were anywhere else, I’d take that as an invitation.”
As if coming out of a trance, she blinked. “What?”
“The way you’re looking at me?” His voice was deep, a little rough. “That usually means—”
“They may just want to rule out what Therman is getting,” she blurted, cutting him off. Dear God, she had been staring at him like a starving woman.
She almost considered putting her button-up shirt back on, just to make sure he didn’t misunderstand. But maybe that would be even more obvious, displaying her uncertainty in situations like this.
“They?” he asked, his supercilious brow still up.
“The men following us.” She jumped on the topic, hoping to talk past her own embarrassment. She wanted him, really wanted him, and it didn’t make any sense at all. She tried for her confident smile. “There are several collectors who want the same items. Usually, whoever is willing to pay the most comes out the victor.”
He grinned. “Sounds like some serious sport.”
“Oh, believe me, collectors take it very seriously.” Needlessly, she checked her hair, smoothed her skirt and overall squirmed over her own revelations.
She’d been forever without a man. Why now, and why him?
She didn’t have any answers; she only knew that he was off-limits. Damn. “Some want an item enough to go bankrupt over it.”
“Or to steal it?” he asked, his attention now on her...mouth?
She drew a breath. “It happens.” A distant memory intruded. “Back when I first started working for Therman, he lost out on an item, but he said it was okay.” Despite her inner turmoil, she kept her voice steady. “The seller gave it to another bidder for a lesser amount because, according to him, it meant more to the other man.”
“Huh.” Th
e light changed and Brodie eased the car forward. “Guess some collectors have an odd code of honor.”
“Yes.” They were close to their destination now, but Mary felt no threat. She didn’t know if that was a sixth sense speaking to her, or her comfort level at being with Brodie.
She was starting to understand why Therman had chosen him.
A few minutes later, a moderate home, white-painted brick with black shutters, came into view at the end of the lane. All the houses in the community sat on quarter-acre lots with mature trees spaced around tidy sidewalks.
When Brodie pulled up at the curb and turned off the car, Howler came awake with a jerk, his jowls trembling. Bleary-eyed after his long nap, he gave a lazy “Woof,” then yawned widely and looked around.
“I have to let the dog do his business first, then I’ll walk you in.”
After pulling on her shirt and doing up most of the buttons, Mary opened her car door. “Not necessary,” she said in her most officious voice, hoping to cut short a disagreement. “You can wait here. I won’t be long.”
Brodie got out before her. “Like hell.”
At being left behind, Howler whined pitifully and strained against his restraints. Brodie looked back at the car, the muscles in his arms flexing as he fought himself.
The man was very dedicated to his dog.
She knew he was torn and took advantage of that. “Brodie,” she said with gentle insistence. “You’re the driver, not my bodyguard.”
He scowled.
Brisk now, Mary pulled the briefcase strap up and over her shoulder. “Take care of Howler, but please be discreet. We don’t know how the seller feels about big dogs using his lawn for a toilet.”
With soft steel in his tone, Brodie stopped her. “I have a question before you go.”
“What?” she asked, the single word clipped.
“Just a second.” He leaned into the car and leashed Howler.
Mary folded her arms and made her impatience loud and clear.
As he led out the now contained dog, he asked, “Am I relegated to outside because I can’t see what Therman is buying?”
“In part.” She turned away.
“Is the other part your independence?”
Mary paused, then looked at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
