Page 2 of The Wrangler

So, she tilted her head, looking him up and down. Slowly. Deliberately. “You’re predictable.”

Jesse’s eyes darkened. “Am I?”

He didn’t reach for her. Didn’t touch her.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Keely knew—knew—that if Jesse ever laid his hands on her, it wouldn’t be gentle. It wouldn’t be polite.

It would be commanding, unapologetic, and amazing. Jesse was one of five members from her brother’s unit that had banded together to open and operate the Iron Spur, San Antonio’s elite lifestyle club. Her brother Reed might be one of the owners, but he wasn’t the only member of the Malone family that played there.

The thought sent a thrill through her, but she smothered it before it could show on her face. “You’re here because Reed told you to be. Not because you want to be.”

Jesse’s jaw flexed. “You think I don’t have better things to do than chase your ass through Milan?”

“I think you resent being here. And I think,” she lowered her voice, stepping closer, “that you hate how much you like the chase.”

Jesse snorted, and for a second, just a second, Keely thought he might snap. That he might grab her, press her against the wall, and remind her exactly what kind of man he was.

But Jesse was too disciplined for that.

Instead, he let out a rough chuckle. “You’re a brat.”

She smiled. “And, as I said, you’re predictable.”

Jesse shook his head and grabbed her wrist—not rough, but firm enough that there was no mistaking the power behind it. “Enough games. We’re leaving. Now.”

Keely’s belly flip-flopped, but she refused to let him see it. “Or what? You’ll toss me over your shoulder?”

Jesse's lips curled into a deliberate, mischievous smile. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

Oh, hell. This was not going the way she wanted at all. She needed to stop pushing. She needed to let it go. But where was the fun in that?

Keely leaned in, her lips a whisper from his ear. “Be careful, cowboy. Someone might think you actually want to be here.”

Jesse took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, his grip on her tightening for half a second before he let go. “Get in the SUV, Keely.”

He’d called her a brat. Reed often called her the same. Neither of them was wrong. There was a reckless part of her that wanted to argue—to push his buttons—just to see how far she could push him. But there was something about the way he said it—the quiet command, the finality in his voice—that sent a thrill straight through her.

For the first time since this game started, she considered surrendering. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to. Instead, she flicked her hair over her shoulder and sauntered toward the waiting SUV. “Next time, try to keep up.”

Jesse’s voice followed her, low and full of promise.

“Next time, I won’t let you run.”

The following day, Keely adjusted her oversized sunglasses as she strolled through Malpensa Airport, her designer carry-on rolling smoothly behind her. She wasn’t in a rush—she never was when she traveled. Milan had been good to her, as always, but it was time to head home.

As she moved through the terminal, the faintest whisper of unease crawled up her spine. It was subtle, nothing overt, just the kind of awareness that came from experience. Someone was watching her.

She kept her stride easy, casually pausing near a glass storefront, adjusting the strap of her purse as she checked her reflection.

And there he was. Jesse again. She thought she’d given him the slip this morning after leaving the hotel, but then it shouldn’t be surprising that he was here. He probably just accessed her flight itinerary and knew where she’d be.

Leaning against a column like he owned the damn place, arms crossed over that ridiculously broad chest, those sharp blue eyes locked onto her. He wasn’t trying to hide—not really. He wanted her to know he was there, that she’d failed at slipping away unnoticed.

A gradual smile tugged at her lips as she turned, walking away like she hadn’t just spotted the man assigned to babysit her.

Reed sent Jesse, one of the firm’s best operatives, instead of one of the newer guys, and she supposed she should be flattered by that. The idea sent a thrill through her, even as she rolled her eyes. Jesse was one of the best—a problem solver, quick thinker and dominant, especially in high-pressure situations. His discipline was clear; she had never seen him lose his temper or become truly ruffled. But she liked to think she got under his skin in a way no one else did.

---