Hot & Bothered. Susan Andersen

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Hot & Bothered - Susan  Andersen

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have a clue how I feel about my newfound status. But I sure as hell deserve the chance to get to know my daughter while I figure it out.”

      “Yes, you do.” Her heart was trying to beat itself through the wall of her chest again. “So get yourself a hotel room and stop by daily to see her.”

      “And give you the opportunity to pack her up and beat feet for places unknown? Not a chance, lady.”

      “I wouldn’t do that!” She stared at him, appalled that he’d believe her capable of such a thing.

      “You forget, baby, I was the one left behind when you did it before.”

      Yes, but that was because I was in over my head with you and getting way too involved after giving you my word I wouldn’t. Her heart, her skin, the very core of her throbbed at memories that had a habit of surging to the fore without a hint of encouragement from her. Six long years ago, she’d sneaked out as dawn crept over the Pensacola beach because she’d found herself falling too hard and too fast for a man whose rugged sexuality was far removed from the sanitized men in her world. She’d initially assumed sticking to his rules to enjoy their time together with no strings attached would be easy as pie. But when every day spent in his company sucked her deeper under his spell instead, it had scared her silly. To preserve her heart before she ended up with something a great deal worse than its already growing ache, she’d slipped away with the sunrise.

      She wasn’t crazy enough to admit that to the hard-eyed man standing in front of her, however. He bore little resemblance to the charmer she remembered, and she didn’t doubt for a moment that he would take full advantage of any weakness she displayed. She met his gaze with faux composure and lied without a qualm. “I told you before, a family emergency called me away.”

      “And I plan to be right here should another one suddenly crop up to call you away again.”

      Even though there was neither skepticism nor so much as a hint of sarcasm in his voice, she felt mocked—and somehow threatened. It was those eyes, she decided, and longed desperately to defy him.

      But Rocket looked at her as if he were prepared to make things truly nasty if she fought him on this. And the fact was, Tori knew, someone had killed her father and it wasn’t her brother. So perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to have a man in the house who was capable of protecting Esme if the real killer decided to pay them a return visit because this hadn’t been a grudge against her father after all.

      Unsatisfied with the decision but too tired to figure out what else to do, she said stiffly, “I plan to stay exactly where I am until Jared is found. Nevertheless, I will inform Mary to prepare a room for you.”

      “Good.” His look said there’d never been any doubt. “Then if you’ll supply me with a photograph, I’ll get to work locating your brother.” And he thrust out his hand as if closing the most mundane of business deals.

      To refuse his handshake would have been rude, but the minute she accepted it, Victoria knew she’d made a mistake. The chemistry that had existed since she’d first laid eyes on him in a resort bar all those years ago—and had been doing funny things to her pulse as recently as a few minutes ago—was still at work. Her skin heated where it touched the hard brown hand wrapped around her own and nerve endings deep inside sizzled and seethed, dispatching urgent messages to every erogenous zone she possessed.

      She broke the contact the instant she could do so without giving away its effect on her. It’ll be okay, she assured herself. If you try hard enough, you can make this work, and Esme will emerge the winner. Victoria would put up with anything to see that happen.

      So why, then, couldn’t she shake the feeling that she’d just sealed a deal with the devil?

      

      JOHN WAS PISSED. SERIOUSLY steamed. “I apologize,” he snarled in a high-pitched falsetto. “That wasn’t civil.” He climbed into his car, fired it up and reversed in a hard, tight U out of his parking spot. Well, screw Tori’s weak foray into sarcasm. Slamming the gearshift into First, he aimed the car down the drive. Not telling him he had a kid the minute he walked through the door was uncivil.

      Fury and frustration boiled in his gut, enticing him to strike out. He wanted to hit someone, to feel the satisfaction of flesh giving way beneath his pounding fists. And, frankly, right this minute he wasn’t particular about whose flesh it was.

      That was just too freaking reminiscent of his old man in one of his drunken rages, though, so John sucked it up and contented himself with punching the accelerator instead to send the car shooting through the closing estate gates with barely an inch of clearance on either side. His car fishtailed onto the road before he straightened it out and laid rubber down the highway. He was damned if he’d allow Tori’s betrayal to flush years of hard-earned self-discipline down the toilet.

      Still. He had to do something or he’d explode. Letting up on the gas until he had the speed down to a more reasonable level, he reached for his cell phone and punched an auto-number.

      He was grateful when Zach answered so he didn’t have to go through his friend’s wife. John adored Lily, but small talk was simply beyond him at the moment, and without any preliminaries, he snarled, “Pass out the cigars. I’m a daddy.”

      There was a brief hesitation, then Zach said, “Rocket?”

      “Yeah. Hang on a sec. I want to see if I can get Coop, too. I have a real need to vent, but I’m afraid blood’s gonna flow if I have to explain this twice.”

      “Take your time, buddy. I’ll be right here.”

      That cooled John’s temper by several degrees and he turned his attention to reaching the other number. Within moments he had a three-way connection going with Cooper Blackstock and Zach Taylor, former team members from his reconnaissance days in the Marines and his two closest friends. As succinctly and unemotionally as he could manage, he told them he had a daughter, then laid out the details of how he’d come to learn of her existence.

      There was a moment of silence when he concluded his story. Then Zach breathed, “Holy shit,” at the same time Coop said, “I don’t believe it. The Muzzler finally has a real name.”

      “Victoria,” Zach concurred. “The timing fits.”

      “Huh?” Brow furrowing, John lifted his foot off the gas pedal. “What the hell are you two babbling about?”

      “Marines don’t babble, chief,” Zach said. “Did you think it somehow skipped our attention that six years ago you suddenly embraced total discretion after more than a decade spent regaling us in pornographic detail about whatever girl had ridden the rocket the night before?”

      “Give us some credit,” Coop agreed. “The transition was too abrupt not to note.”

      “I don’t recall either of you ever asking me why.”

      “We might have, but you were so damn close-mouthed about it we didn’t feel we could. It was so out of character for you to keep time spent with a woman under wraps.”

      “Gotta admit, we would have appreciated just a couple of details, though,” Zach added. “Ice and I spent a lot of time speculating on who could have taken the bite out of the dog.”

      “Great.” The car drifted to a stop on the shoulder of the road, and he slapped the gearshift into Neutral, then yanked on the brake. “That’s

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