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They paused at the passenger side of his truck and he couldn’t help himself.
Tyler took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, longingly.
They ended the kiss when he heard people approaching one of the cars parked near them. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside and then he walked around the car to get into the driver’s seat.
“That was an almost perfect ending to a perfect evening,” he said and started the truck engine.
“I don’t even want to hear what would make it a perfect ending versus an almost perfect ending,” she retorted drily.
He grinned at her. “Ah, we’ve reached that point where you can now read my mind.”
She returned his grin. “Not really. You’re just that predictable on certain subjects.”
“Is being predictable a bad thing?” he asked.
“Not necessarily. I think in most cases it could be a good thing,” she replied.
At that moment the back truck windshield shattered and a thump resounded as a bullet struck the dashboard.
* * *
We hope you enjoy this dramatic series:
The Coltons of Oklahoma: Family secrets always find a way to resurface …
The Colton Bodyguard
Carla Cassidy
CARLA CASSIDY is a New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
The jail-cell door clanked shut behind Greta Colton. She turned and grabbed the bars, staring at her brother on the other side.
“Ryan, you know this is all a mistake. I didn’t kill anyone. I’m innocent. I didn’t kill Kurt.” She watched in horror as Ryan turned his back on her and walked away. How could he believe she was capable of murder?
“Ryan, please.” She grasped the cell bars more tightly, frantic for him, for anyone, to believe her. “I’m not a murderer,” she screamed, but he didn’t stop walking away from her.
Greta sat up and looked around, disoriented as to time and place. Her pounding heart slowed. She was safe in her king-size bed in her bedroom. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told her it was just after four in the afternoon.
She was safe beneath her sky blue comforter with the afternoon sunshine drifting through the lacy white curtains at the window. She released a sigh of relief.
The nightmare she’d just suffered had become a familiar one over the past three weeks, ever since she really had been arrested for the murder of ranch hand Kurt Rodgers.
She’d decided to take a short nap after lunch but had slept longer than she had intended. Lately, sleeping had been far easier than being fully conscious and in the present.
The moments before and since she’d been released from jail had been fraught with anger, sadness, lies and questions. It wasn’t just
