when the question itself was rude enough to warrant enemy status. Tina knew how to handle the paparazzi. Macy did not. And she paid the price for not being as charming as her famous mother had been.
Her heart pounding, her body abused and her head clouded with uncertainty, Macy glanced down to find her tightly wound fists encased in strong, protective hands. When she gazed up into the cowboy’s eyes, he reassured her with a nod. His words had been like velvet to her ears.
Trust me.
She did.
Someone bumped her from behind, and the cowboy’s gaze grew fierce, giving the photographer ample warning. “Back off.”
Then he met her stare again. “You coming?” His voice was a little more insistent this time.
Macy didn’t have to think twice. She was out of options. The crowd herding her had become more curious now that the cowboy had intervened on her behalf, peppering her with questions as to who he was.
She honestly didn’t know.
But she was about to find out.
She nodded, and he gave her a fast smile. “Let’s go.”
The cowboy’s grip was steady on her hand as they took off at a run. Mentally she cursed the Paciotti pumps slowing her down. She struggled to keep pace with his strides.
“Don’t look back,” he ordered. He guided her down an alleyway, dodging garbage cans. She ran on the pads of her feet to keep from stumbling on three-inch heels. her scarf flew off her head, clinging on by the knot at her throat. The material whipped at her shoulders. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her nerves rattled as the cowboy led her away from the tabloid hounds dogging her.
The sound of labored breaths and footsteps shuffling from behind dropped off a little at a time as they hurried along the narrow alley. It wasn’t a herd following them anymore, just several hangers-on. Those few were persistent, and the cowboy tightened his hold on her hand when they reached the end of the alley. He took half a second to glance both ways on the side street before gesturing to the right. “There.”
She followed him, running quickly to a shiny black Lincoln Town Car. “Get in and we’ll be off.” She glanced behind her to see four photographers snapping pictures at the base of the alleyway.
Her savior opened the back door for her, surprising the chauffeur, who was eating a burrito in the front seat. She climbed inside and slid over. He joined her a second later. “Give it some gas, Larry. And be quick.”
“Yes, sir.” The chauffeur tossed his food down and fumbled for a second, obviously caught off guard. Then the engine revved to life. Before the paparazzi got within twenty feet, they had pulled out, Larry driving as fast as traffic allowed.
“Wow.” Macy leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. The past twenty minutes were a blur. One second she was on her way to meet Avery for dinner, and the next she was being pursued by overly zealous tabloid maniacs.
She tried to slow her breathing, but then there was the Stetson-wearing cowboy to think about. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d thrown her off balance.
She turned to face him and caught a whiff of his musky cologne. The scent was a turn-on in its own right, but on him, now that was really something. She’d already put him in white knight status; he didn’t need any more help. “I don’t usually accept rides from strangers,” she offered, clearing the air.
He chuckled and deep twin dimples appeared, softening the sharp planes of his face. Okay, this was just not funny anymore.
“But you made an exception for me?”
“I knew I could trust you. I saw you yesterday at the, uh, the auction. I was there, too.”
He gave her an appraising stare. “I know.”
“You know me?”
“No, can’t say that I do. But I noticed you. You were trying your best not to look conspicuous. Guess the designer sunglasses and scarf gave you away. It’s kind of hard not to notice a beautiful woman covering herself all up. Not that I blame you for trying to disguise yourself.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the direction they’d just come from. “Does that happen to you often?”
He thought she was beautiful, even under the disguise. “Lately, yes…unfortunately.”
They were traveling down the street, and Macy had no idea where they were headed. All she saw behind him through the window was a flash of streetlights and neon signs.
He took care with removing his hat and laid it between them. He continued to watch her. Normally she’d squirm under the heat of a stranger’s stare, but oddly all she felt was excitement, as if she was living out her fantasy. She still couldn’t believe she was in his car, driving toward who knows what.
Then she reined in those thoughts. He was engaged. Or going to be soon. Her fantasy was over. “I’m Macy Tarlington.”
His eyes flickered with recognition. “Tarlington?”
His recognition wasn’t aimed at her. He didn’t know who she was. It was the Tarlington name that turned heads in every civilized country around the world. Apparently, the cowboy had never seen any of the work Macy had done on film. She wasn’t a star by any rights, but most people in the know would recognize her on the street. “My mother was Tina Tarlington.”
“I’ll be damned.” He shot her a charming smile then put out his hand. The large capable hand she’d already held. “Carter McCay. I’m from Wild River, Texas.”
Of course, he was a Texan. With that charming accent, where else could he be from? “Hollyweird, California.”
His lips quirked up and they sat staring at each other, their hands entwined in a slow shake.
Macy would’ve lost her footing if she’d been standing from the way he watched her. “I want to thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten away from them if you weren’t there.”
He finally released her hand, and she was momentarily at a loss. “Appeared that way to me, too.”
“You saved me,” she said, still awestruck.
“You needed saving.”
Macy held in a sigh. His fiancée was a lucky woman. “Are you in the habit of saving women, or am I the only one?”
“I’m not in the business of saving anyone anymore.”
“Meaning you once were?”
“Once, a long time ago.” The city lights reflected in his eyes as his gaze shifted out the window. “I was a marine.”
“Ah, that explains your call to duty.”
His gaze snapped back to hers.
“I mean, isn’t that wh-what you do?” Oh boy, she didn’t want to insult the man who’d saved her. She found herself fumbling with an explanation. “The first to go in when there’s a crisis.”
His
