older brothers.
“I thought you’d have the brains to call and tell us you’d arrived safely,” he admonished, and she felt a twinge of guilt.
“I guess I hadn’t gotten around to it,” she said, smiling at the thought of her brothers, who had once resented her, now fretting over her.
“Is everything all right?”
“So far, although I have a bone to pick with you.”
“Uh-oh.”
“And Matt and Thorne.”
“It figures.”
“Who the hell do you think you are hiring a bodyguard for me behind my back?” she demanded and saw, in the mirror’s reflection, Kurt Striker standing behind her. Their eyes met and there was something in his gaze that seemed to bore straight into hers, to touch her soul.
Slade was trying to explain. “You need someone to help you—”
“You mean I need a man to watch over me,” she cut in, irritated all over again. Frustrated, she turned her attention to the window, where just beyond the glass she could make out the angry waters of Lake Washington roiling in the darkness. “Well, for your information, brother dear, I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah, right.”
Slade’s sarcasm cut deep.
Involuntarily, she squared her shoulders. “I’m serious.”
“So are we.”
Randi heard conversation in the background, not only the deep rumble of male voices, but others as well, the higher pitches of her sisters-in-law, no doubt, and rising above the rest of the conversation, the sharp staccato burst of Spanish that could only have come from Juanita, the housekeeper.
“You tell her to be careful. Dios! What was she thinking running off like that!”
More Spanish erupted and Slade said, “Did you hear that? Juanita thinks—”
“I heard what she said.” Randi felt a pang of homesickness, which was just plain ludicrous. This was her home. Where she belonged. She had a life here in Seattle. At the newspaper. Here in this condo. And yet, as she stared out the window to the whitecaps whirling furiously on the black water, she wondered if she had made a mistake in returning to this bustling city that she’d fallen in love with years before. She liked the crowds. The noise. The arts. The history. The beauty of Puget Sound and the briny smell of the sea when she walked or jogged near the waterfront.
But her brothers weren’t here.
Nor were Nicole, Kelly or Jamie, her new sisters-in-law. They’d become friends and she missed them as well as Nicole’s daughters and the ranch and…
Suddenly stiffening her spine, she pushed back all her maudlin thoughts. She was doing the right thing. Reclaiming her life. Trying to figure out who was hell-bent on harming her and her family. “Tell everyone I’m fine. Okay? A big girl. And I don’t appreciate you and Thorne and Matt hiring Striker.”
“Well, that’s just too damn bad now, isn’t it?” he said, reigniting her anger.
Her headache was throbbing again, she was so tired she wanted to sink into her bed and never wake up and, more than anything, she wished she could reach through the phone lines and shake some sense into her brothers. “You know, Slade, you really can be a miserable son of a bitch.”
“I try,” he drawled in that damnable country-boy accent that was usually accompanied by a devilish twinkle in his eyes.
She imagined his lazy smile. “Nice, Slade. Do you want to talk to your new employee?” Without waiting for an answer, she slammed the phone into Kurt Striker’s hand and stormed to her bedroom. This was insane, but she was tired of arguing about it, was bound and determined to get on with her life. She had a baby to take care of and a job to do.
But what if they’re all right? What if someone really is after you? After Joshua? Didn’t you think someone had already broken into this place?
Her gaze swept the bedroom. Nothing seemed disturbed…or did it? Had she left the curtains to the back deck parted? Had her closet door been slightly ajar…? She lifted her eyes, caught a glimpse of her reflection and saw a shadow of fear pass behind her own eyes. God, she hated this.
She heard footsteps approaching and then, in the glass, saw Kurt walking down the short hallway and stop at the bedroom door.
Her throat was suddenly dry as cotton and inadvertently she licked her lips. His gaze flickered to the movement and the corners of his mouth tightened, and just the hint of desperation, of lust, darkened his eyes.
For a split second their gazes locked. Held. Randi’s pulse jumped, as if it were suddenly a living, breathing thing. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Inside, she felt a twinge, the hint of a dangerous craving she’d experienced last night.
She knew that it would only take a glance, a movement, a whisper and he would come inside, close the door, take her into his arms and kiss her as if she’d never been kissed before. It would be hard, raw, desperate and they would oh so easily tumble onto the bed and make love for hours.
His lips compressed.
He took a step inside.
She could barely breathe.
He reached forward, grabbed hold of the doorknob.
Her knees went weak.
Oh, God, she wanted him. Imagined touching him, lying with him, feeling the heat of his body. “Kurt, I…”
“Shh, darlin’,” he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t you get some rest.” He offered her a wink that caused her heart to crack. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He pulled the door shut tight and she listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating down the short hallway.
Slowly she let out the breath she’d been holding and sagged onto the bed. Disappointment mingled with relief. It would be a mistake of epic proportions to make love to him. She knew it. They both did. On unsteady legs she walked into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She reached for a bottle of ibuprofen and stopped short.
What if someone had been in her home?
What if someone had tampered with her over-the-counter medications? Her food?
“Now you really are getting paranoid,” she muttered, as she poured the pills into the toilet and flushed them down.
Paranoid, maybe.
But alive for certain.
Making her way back to the bedroom, she slid under the covers and decided that she could work with Striker or against him.
With him would be a lot more interesting.
And together they might be able to get through the nightmare that had become her life.
Eight
