Laws of Attraction Page 2

  Oh.

  She was wearing her Bugs Bunny “What’s up, Doc?” panties and complementing demi-bra printed with tiny carrots. An early birthday gift from Valerie.

  The humorous moment helped ease the thick tension as she slipped beneath the covers with him.

  They lay face-to-face, gazes linked in the flickering firelight. She tucked the canister beneath her pillow as she breathed in Dallas’ scent … warm man and subtle, earthy pine. His languid smile slid across his mouth, flooding her veins with lava. Damn, the erotic images his scrumptious lips conjured up …

  Get a grip, Mia!

  She did not need a man. Not now, not ever. She would never give up her independence for some guy, and lose herself.

  Already too cynical for her years at age six, with both her heart and her body broken, Mia had vowed never to fall in love. So far, she’d managed to keep that promise with no hassles from Cupid. And the little imp with the bow and arrows had better stay away, or she’d drop-kick his diapered butt right back to Olympus.

  Besides, nothing was going to sidetrack her fight for redemption. Especially not a yummy hunk of man candy.

  A steely forearm encircled her waist, urged her nearer, and she stiffened. Dallas’ palm stroked her rigid spine. “Easy, darlin’. You’re gonna have to come closer to share body heat. I won’t bite.” He winked. “Unless you ask me to.”

  She gritted her teeth. “If you have any desire to father children in the future, you’d better keep your hands—and your fantasies—under control.”

  A deep chuckle vibrated his chest, now far too close for comfort. “You know, you remind me of a hunting hound I used to have.”

  “Gee, thanks. You really know how to wow a girl.”

  “Named her Dirty Harriet, after Eastwood.”

  Mia rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “She was the snappiest critter in three counties. Couldn’t get near her without getting bit. But once I’d earned her trust, she—”

  “Fetched your slippers and gazed up adoringly from between your feet?”

  “Harriet became my best friend. And my most loyal companion.”

  “Sorry to disappoint, cowboy. I flunked obedience school.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” He continued to rub her back in slow, soothing strokes. “You’re safe. Trust me, Mia. Go to sleep.”

  The wind’s gnashing teeth grabbed the cabin and shook it, rattling boards and shingles. But the storm outside was trivial compared to the emotional typhoon whirling inside her.

  Buffeted by the confusing tempest of attraction and wariness, Mia studied the intriguing man in her bed.

  She’d give Dallas McQuade temporary shelter. Give him her body heat. Give him transport to the city tomorrow.

  But she wasn’t about to give anybody her trust.

  * * *

  When dawn’s watery gray light crept through the windows, Dallas snapped to awareness with stiff muscles, throbbing ribs … and a raging boner.

  He was wrapped around a warm, curvy woman who smelled enticingly like his family’s rose garden in Tyler, Texas. A surge of desire detonated inside him, and he blinked away the sensual daze.

  Hellfire. He’d thought his libido had perished along with his other emotions. Now was a fine time for it to rise from the dead and distract him—when he was finally in position to settle the long overdue score.

  The sexy little Samaritan was a complication he hadn’t expected. A wild card in the lethal long-con he was running. No problem, he could bluff with the best. In his line of work, a player who couldn’t think on his feet had a short life expectancy.

  But all things considered, he preferred chess, where he could strategically plan every move to his advantage.

  Mia’s delicate heart-shaped face had a pixie’s impish smile, but the eyes of an old soul—someone on intimate terms with pain. Her appearance so close to the scene of the latest assassination attempt on his new boss might be a coincidence.

  His chest tightened. He’d learned—the worst way possible—that life rarely slotted into neat coincidences.

  Mia stirring against him scattered his thoughts before they could wind down the familiar torturous path. Her silky thigh glided along his, her soft cotton panties brushing his hard-on. His dick twitched in response, and she jolted. Her eyelids shot open, instant terror striking her lovely features.

  He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He was well aware she’d slept clutching a canister of mace. Someone had mistreated Mia very badly.

  “Morning.” Dallas offered a reassuring smile as he eased back to give her space. Those wide, deep amber eyes caught and held him spellbound. Intoxicating. Beguiling. Tempting a man to drink her up in one long swallow, until he forgot all the sorrow. Forgot the pain.

  He licked his lower lip, almost imagining he could taste her there. “Your eyes are the exact color of Southern Comfort.”

  She scrambled out of bed like the blankets were on fire. “I’m leaving in ten minutes.” Her voice was husky with fatigue … and fear. “If you’re not ready, you can thumb it home.” Then she stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Dallas wanted to kick his own ass clear back to Portland. Why the fuck had he blurted that? Smooth, McQuade.

  He got up as fast as his injuries allowed—and headed straight for Mia’s bulging purse.

  Expensive, professional field glasses. Digital camera with a zoom lens, and dozens of pictures of a certain ski lodge he recognized. A long-distance listening device disguised as a laser pointer. Small notebook detailing way too much of Esteban Montoya’s personal information and whereabouts the past few weeks. Interesting. Dallas frowned. If he searched her car, would he find guns and ammo? Explosives?

  He’d already nearly bought the farm on this new job protecting Montoya from an unknown assassin, and he wanted answers.

  The driver’s license was issued to Mia Elaine Linden. He noted her last name and memorized the license number and address. One credit card, debit card, library card, discount warehouse membership. No social security number, but he could find that easily enough and run a thorough background check when he reached the city. Dallas quickly assessed the remaining contents. Nothing but the usual female paraphernalia. The lone prescription was a plastic compact containing birth-control pills.

  For inexplicable reasons he didn’t care to question, the image of his sloe-eyed rescuer cuddled up with another man made the chilled ache return … and he felt more alone than ever.

  Do not go there.

  He limped to the fireplace and laboriously dressed, remembering the long-ago morning he’d stabbed a needle through his left earlobe, wiped away the blood and thrust in the antique ruby. The sting in his ear had been minor compared to the agony in his heart.

  Even after all this time, not a day went by without acid failure gnawing at his guts. Not a night passed that he didn’t climb from his sleepless bed to pour his anguish into hours of mind-numbing Jeet Kune Do. He rolled his shoulders, relishing the sharp stab of discomfort in his ribs.

  Stay on target.

  If everything went according to plan, his ten years on the warpath would pay off soon. Very soon.

  Dallas clenched his jaw. And if Mia Linden got in his way … he’d just have to deal with her.

  Chapter 2

  Six days later, Mia propped her hip against the lighted-mirror in the dressing room of the Pegasus nightclub and watched her best friend since first grade prepare to go on stage. Valerie Willis sang at the elegant club nearly every weekend. They hadn’t had a chance to catch up yet because Val was taking extra shifts as a 911 dispatcher for her day job, and when Mia wasn’t working her temporary job at the local fish cannery, she’d been on recon nearly 24/7.

  “So after I came out of the bathroom at the cabin dressed and ready to go,” Mia continued, “McQuade got all inscrutable. Didn’t say two words the entire way back to Portland. He had me drop him off at the corner of Fifth and Main. I tried to follow him
, but he poofed.”

  Valerie stopped in mid-application of coral lipstick, eyes dark with horror. “I can’t believe you picked up a hitchhiker. He could have been mental. Or on drugs.” She shuddered. “Think about what might’ve happened to you.”

  Mia shrugged. She’d already survived the merry-go-round to Hell and back. “He was injured, what else was I supposed to do? I am a black belt, and he seemed fairly decent. Other than he sort of made a pass at me when he woke up,” she added darkly.

  She didn’t mention the fact that she’d been intrigued and aroused … or the continuing erotic dreams featuring Dallas McQuade that had her waking up flushed and aching. Why couldn’t she exorcise the annoying, sexy cowboy from her thoughts?

  “You should be used to getting hit-on by now. Blatant disinterest is a challenge the Y chromosome can’t resist.”

  “I guess.” Mia rubbed a blotch of face powder from the vanity top. Even the woman who was like a sister to her didn’t know the real reasons she kept men at arm’s length. Mia had learned early to hide her vulnerabilities. Though she cared about Val more than anyone, she couldn’t bring herself to expose her personal demons.

  Frowning, Valerie resumed slicking on her lipstick. “Do you think Dallas is in league with your former boss and/or Esteban Montoya?”

  She fervently hoped not. “I don’t know. Montoya’s been flying beneath the radar for a couple weeks. Something’s up. When I got home, I researched McQuade. He owns an internationally respected, successful security company with unblemished credit and a sterling reputation. Not to mention impeccable references and a fistful of commendations for saving several clients’ lives.”

  Frown deepening, Val smoothed her long, dark locks. “We should still have Jared run him through the NCIC. See if anything blips. Hey, we could lift McQuade’s prints from your car!”

  Jared Ryan was Val’s fiancé and a dedicated police officer. “No. You promised, Val, not a word to anyone.”

  “Jared’s police contacts allow him access to all kinds of info. In five minutes on the computer, he could—”

  “No! Harper Grayson and Esteban Montoya go for the jugular! Them flushing my life down the toilet is enough, I won’t be responsible for yours and Jared’s too.” Mia glanced at the closed door. “Where is Super Cop anyway? He’s usually within hailing distance.”

  “I left my sheet music for my second set at home and he went to get it.” Val grabbed Mia’s hand. “I know you want your life back, but you’ve sold nearly everything you own to finance this crazy crusade. And now you’re spying during the day and working nights at the cannery. It’s too much, Mia. I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt.”

  Nothing Grayson and Montoya pulled could hurt her any worse. “That cannery pays twelve bucks an hour. And I handled the same schedule through law school. What else have I got to do with my time? Unless I clear my reputation, I’m finished.”

  And stained with shame. Burdened with pain.

  “When Harper Grayson ‘let you go’ from the practice, he promised not to reveal any incriminating information in return for your silence.”

  Small comfort, considering Grayson’s promises were as bankable as Monopoly money. “For all the good it does. Thanks to the gossip network, every law firm in town knows something not quite kosher went on. I’m ruined.”

  “There are other professions, Mia.”

  “You know all I’ve ever wanted to be is a family advocate lawyer.” Mia understood about being unable to defend oneself. In fact, she’d protected the shy, chubby Valerie through eleven years of boarding school, and still burned with fervor to rescue the helpless from merciless bullies. “I don’t have anything left to lose.”

  “Yes, you do.” Val’s eyes filled with tears. “A lot more than you’ll admit.”

  “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.” Mia inclined her head at the clock. “You better get out there, and I want to grab a good seat.” She gave Val a hug. “See you after the performance.”

  Ten minutes later, Mia frowned as a blond man in a designer suit who’d introduced himself as “Schuyler the Stockbroker,” sauntered once more to her table. He offered her a frosty mocha drink. “I see you like Chocolatinis.”

  “I buy my own. For the fourth time tonight, I’m not interested.”

  His toothpaste-ad smile oozing calculated false charm made her stomach cramp. “How about a dance?”

  “No.”

  “A stroll outside in the fresh air?”

  “I don’t pick up strange men in bars. Why don’t you give it a try?”

  He suggestively stroked manicured fingernails down the martini glass, making her skin crawl. “Chicks love me. Once you get to know me in private, you’ll see why.”

  She snorted. “A legend in your own mind.”

  “I saw you here last Saturday, and the Saturday before.” He slid into the seat next to her. “Why is a little hottie like you a regular at Pegasus if not to hook up?”

  He’d been watching her? Okay, giant ick factor. “I enjoy the music. Alone.”

  On stage, one of the saxophone players stepped to the mike, and the hum of conversation subsided. “Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Valerie Willis.” Val glided out to enthusiastic applause, her beaded coral gown shimmering in the spotlights.

  Schuyler’s immaculate eyebrows arched. He probably had them waxed at the same salon where he got his manicure. “Niiice. I’d tap that.”

  “And her fiancé would knock your teeth so far down your throat, you’d have to unzip your fly to eat.” Speaking of Jared, the way he drove, he should be back by now. Mia glanced around, but didn’t see the good-looking scamp anywhere. Too bad. He’d toss this asshat out in a heartbeat. Without breaking a sweat.

  Her fingers tightened on her icy drink. She didn’t need Jared. She could handle Slick Schuyler.

  Valerie’s gaze settled on her before it moved to the man moving in close to Mia, and she gave Mia a conspiratorial grin as she launched into a sensual blues classic. Val didn’t realize how badly the dude’s aggressive come-on rankled. But then Mia was a pro at disguising her feelings.

  Slick took a drink of his cognac. “It’s no crime to appreciate gorgeous broads. Meet me for lunch tomorrow. I have a standing Saturday reservation at Chez Gerard.”

  “No.”

  “Dinner?”

  “No.”

  He wiggled his brows suggestively. “Breakfast?”

  “I’d rather shove lit bottle rockets under my toenails.” She hated to miss Valerie’s first set, but the jerk was grinding her last nerve. “Bye, now.” She rose and stalked away, heading for the Ladies’ Room.

  The winding hallway to the restrooms always gave Mia the heebie jeebies. Though familiar territory, the low, moody lighting left the long passage shadowed with dark pockets. Safely inside the lavatory, Mia freshened her make-up and then pulled a frayed thread from the hem of her lime green sheath. The three year-old dress was hardly a man-magnet, and no reason for some obnoxious baboon to think she was begging for his attention.

  A look at the wall clock showed she’d dawdled twenty minutes. Slick would have moved on to more receptive territory by now. She swung open the heavy door.

  Mr. Clueless was leaning against the opposite wall.

  “Get out of my way.”

  As she attempted to brush by him, he straightened and blocked her path. “Stick around, hottie. I’m not looking for lifelong commitment, just a quickie in the john.”

  She swallowed a surge of bile. Why was he still pursuing her? Was Valerie right, and some men just couldn’t resist a challenge? Maybe Slick was so used to getting his own way his overinflated ego couldn’t comprehend refusal.

  Or maybe, the man who’d cornered her sensed her heart fluttering like a rabbit’s beneath the façade of bravado.

  She raised her chin. She was nobody’s prey. Nobody’s victim. “Back off. I am not interested.”

  “You cock-teasers flirt and flash the goods, and then say no …”
His mouth twisted and he grabbed her arm. “When you really mean yes.”

  Adrenaline rocketed through Mia’s system. She popped her elbow into his solar plexus, then shoved him, hard. He staggered into the wall and she darted around him, sprinting down the dark, curving hallway.

  Seconds later, determined footsteps stalked behind her.

  She scrabbled in her purse, snatched out the pepper spray. Nobody was going to bully her.

  Never again.

  Insistent fingers gripped her shoulder. “Hey—”

  Mia whirled and squirted pepper spray into her assailant’s face, at the same time ramming her knee into his groin. When he doubled over choking and gasping, she pivoted and sprinted to the main lounge. Skidding around the final corner, she collided with another male body and automatically struck out.

  “Whoa!” Jared Ryan’s voice said into her ear as he caught her. “Mia? What’s wrong?”

  She recoiled. “Nothing,” she panted.

  He raked back tousled chestnut hair. “Don’t blow smoke at me, Mia. What’s up?”

  “A man…grabbed me,” she reluctantly admitted.

  His eyes narrowed. “Where is the bastard?”

  “Last I saw, the corridor by the restrooms.”

  “You okay, sweetheart?”

  She managed a shaky nod.

  “Give me a description of him.”

  Mia wrapped her arms around herself, willing her trembling to stop. She sucked in a deep breath. Get it together. You didn’t let the ratbag win.

  “He’s tall, blond, wearing a black designer suit … and bent over wheezing for breath. And probably singing soprano about now.”

  The corner of Jared’s mobile mouth quirked. “Ten-four. Gassed and nailed in the nuts.” He gave her another assessing look. “Sure you’re all right?”

  “Ye—” She stared behind him in disbelief.

  Schuyler sauntered by, completely unscathed, his arm around a busty redhead. The arrogant moron rubbed his sternum and gave her a smarmy smirk as they passed. “Your loss, bitch.”