Page 18 of Losing Control

She started back toward the store, but he only let her get a few steps before calling her name. “Looks like you got a little problem, Leanne.”

She looked up and recognized him at once. Of course. He was a friend of her father’s. Tucking strands of her long, blonde hair behind her ears, she flashed a smile.

“Yeah. My tire’s flat. Lordy, but Daddy’s going to kill me.”

“Over a flat tire? I don’t think so. Where were you headed?”

“Back to…my friends. I made a soda run.”

“They’re waiting at the park?” he asked, chuckling as she gasped in surprise. “Honey, some things aren’t too secret after all. Kids have been sneaking into the park as long as I can remember.”

She dropped her gaze and nodded. “I-I was going to call one of my friends to come and get me, but my cell died. I guess I forgot to charge it.” She perked up a little. “Say. Do you have one? Maybe I could use yours.”

He held out his hands, palms up. “Left it at home, dang it. Charging on the counter. Need to get myself one of those car chargers, I guess.”

“Oh.” Her smiled disappeared as she frowned.

He reached down and picked up her bags. “Why don’t we do this? I’ll give you a ride back to the park. Then you can get a couple of those strong young boys to come back here and change your tire.”

She sighed with relief. “Oh, would you? That was my plan, anyway.”

“Sure. Come on. Just hop into my truck, and I’ll have you there in no time. Lock up your vehicle.”

But they hadn’t driven for five minutes before she turned to him, puzzled. “Wait. We should be heading out toward the interstate.”

“I know a short cut. Just relax, honey. I’ll have you there before you know it.”

Leanne nibbled her lower lip, obviously uneasy. “Listen, maybe you could just drop me off someplace where there’s a phone.”

“Now, now, Leanne. I’ll have you there in short order. Just relax. How about I put in a CD. Music makes everyone feel better.” He lifted the lid on the center console, fumbling inside.

She slid as close to the door as she could get, and he sensed the tension in her body. Okay, he couldn’t wait any longer. Flipping up the console cover with his right hand, he pulled out the saturated cloth he’d stashed there, reached over, and clamped it over her face.

Panicked, she grabbed his wrist with both hands and tried to pull it away, but even one-handed he was stronger than she was. She wriggled frantically, trying to pull her head back, but his hand stayed clamped against her face until finally her hands fell away.

He smiled as he thought of the excitement ahead. His cock hardened, and his blood pulsed. Oh, yes. He was looking forward to this. The killing would just be a bonus.

Chapter Eight

The shower helped ease the tension of the day for Dana. The tea and brandy did even more. Pulling on shorts and an old Tampa Bay Buccaneers T-shirt, she settled at the dining room table with a sandwich, a drink, and her briefcase. Her laptop sat open in front of her, ready for input.

She tried to clear her mind of everything except the project at hand, but Cole Landry’s ruggedly severe face kept flashing across her internal television screen. Thoughts that she’d never had—neverwantedto have—about any other man kept poking at her.

What would it be like to have a man’s hands on her that she desired and didn’t fear? Holding her breasts. Chafing her nipples. Taking those nipples into the wet heat of his mouth. Laving them with his tongue.

Dana shivered. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how things were done. God knows enough men had tried to coax her into it, had tried their best, like Grant, to make it work. But none of them had ever reached her icy core, frozen away all these years.

Until Cole Landry.

What would she do if she found herself alone with him and the unfamiliar sensations buzzed up through her? How would she react? How wouldhereact? She was at once apprehensive and wanting.

And stupid.

She crossed her forearms on the table and rested her head on them. Maybe if she closed her eyes for just a minute, she could gather her scattered thoughts.

****

She knelt on her bed, unselfconsciously naked, and held out her arms to him. He’d just kicked off his worn western boots and stripped off his clothes—jeans and a chambray shirt. He smelled of man and hay and horseflesh, a scent guaranteed to charge her pheromones. Her eyes feasted on his incredible body. Solid. Muscular. Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and lean hips. Muscles carefully sculpted beneath the taut skin. Dark curls scattered over the hard wall of his chest, arrowing down to the thick nest at his groin.

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