Protecting Tricia (13 page)

The smile evaporated from her lips, and she stared at him
for a long moment without responding. So long in fact, that a feeling of
uneasiness crept up his spine. He studied her face, trying to determine her
thoughts. But damned if he knew what she was thinking. Her face was expressionless,
her eyes unreadable.

She picked up her mug and took a sip of coffee. “In that
case,” she said, setting the mug carefully on the table, “I’d better not do it
again.”

Picking up her fork, she dug into her breakfast while his
mind replayed her words. Not do it again? What was that supposed to mean? She
didn’t
want
him to want it every day?

Because she has no intention of being here to provide it
every day.
Clint struggled to silence the aggravating voice in his head,
but it was persistent.

“You trying to tell me something?” He kept his tone light,
despite the seriousness of the question. He hoped for—no, he
needed
—reassurance
that he was simply overanalyzing things. That there was no hidden meaning
behind the words.

She lifted a shoulder. “I just want to make sure we’re both
on the same page. Last night was nice—”

“Nice?” His brow lifted at the extremely insulting
adjective.

Definitely not the word he would have used to describe the
experience. He could have sworn he felt the earth move. And from her reaction,
he would have bet money that it had been the same for her.

“Yes. It was very nice.” She shifted in her seat and ran a
hand through her hair.

“I suppose the word
regret
is coming next?”

“No. It happened. It would be pointless to regret it now.”

“That’s right, and you wanted it to happen just as much as I
did. You initiated it. I gave you every chance to stop it. All you had to do
was say the word, and I would have walked away.” It would have killed him, but
he would have done it. “
No, stop, don’t
—that’s all you had to say to put
an end to it. But you didn’t say any of those words.” He threw his fork on the
table, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms. “Do I need to remind you
what words you
did
say?”

“No,” she said quickly. A blush covered her face, and she
averted her gaze. She set her fork down and rubbed a hand over her forehead.
Finally, her gaze returned to his. “Why are you being so defensive?”

“I want to make sure you remember things as they actually
occurred.”

“I do. I wanted it to happen. I’m not denying that. But I
want to make it clear to you that it was only sex. Nothing’s changed. This is
only a temporary situation. Once Matt’s gone, I’m leaving, and we won’t see
each other again.”

“I see.” He reached in his shirt pocket for a cigarette and
lit it. “So you felt nothing.”

“I felt lust. That’s all.”

“Lust,” he repeated.

His imagination must have been in overdrive then because he
could have sworn it was more than lust. Apparently, he had been hallucinating.

He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, inhaled, and blew out
a stream of smoke. “So, from what you’ve said, it sounds as if you intend to
stay here until Matt’s gone. You know, you have your keys now, you can leave
anytime you like.”

She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and cleared her
throat. “I thought you didn’t mind if I stayed, but if you’d rather I left…”

“You can stay as long as you need.”

“Okay then. But just so you know, there’s not going to be a
repeat performance of what happened last night.”

What the hell had happened? An hour ago, she had been
pressing her body against his, moaning his name.

“Honey,” he drawled, “there was already a repeat performance
this morning.”

“This morning you caught me off guard.”

“True. But you enjoyed it nevertheless.” His lips curved up.
“Didn’t you?”

“That’s hardly the point.”

“I’d say enjoyment is a big point of sex. Why not repeat it?
It’s nothing more than a pleasurable experience, no emotions involved to get
things all tangled up. What would be the harm? Maybe you should explain it to
me. Use real simple terms so I can understand it.”

She exhaled a loud breath. “You’re just being difficult
now.” Shoving her chair away from the table, she picked up her plate and
carried it to the sink.

He watched silently as she filled the sink with water and
began washing the dishes. There was no way, absolutely no way, he had been so
mistaken. She had felt something. For a brief time she had let down her shield,
had let him inside. But now, those defenses were right back in place again.

She’s scared.

Reaching for his mug, he stood and walked over to the coffee
pot. After filling his cup, he leaned against the counter, staring at her back.
He sipped his coffee as he mulled over what to say, searched for a way to reach
her.

“Tricia,” he said softly, sitting the cup on the counter.
“Not every man is like Matt.”

Her back stiffened. “I understand very little about men. But
the one thing I do understand is you can’t trust them.”

“And I top the list of untrustworthy.” There was the real
issue.

She didn’t reply, merely lifted a shoulder in apparent
agreement.

“If you would let me explain what happened, why I—”

“There’s nothing to explain.” She whirled around to face
him. “The fact that I saw—
I saw
—you with your…tallywacker,” she
sputtered with a gesture of her hand toward his crotch, “inside another
woman—not just any woman, but a friend of mine—told me everything I needed to
know.”

“Tallywacker,” he muttered. “Well, I guess that’s a better
term than
little thing
. But your memory is a little faulty. My
tallywacker
wasn’t in anything but my pants.”

“And her hand was shoved inside your pants. It didn’t
exactly look like you were resisting. You appeared to be enjoying it and fully
participating. If I hadn’t walked in on you, you would have been inside her eventually.”
She paused long enough to tilt her head. “But maybe I’m wrong. Was she
attacking you, Clint? Was she forcing you to participate against your will?”

“No.” He rubbed a hand over his throbbing forehead. “But you
don’t know the reason—”

“There’s no reason that could excuse it,” she spit out.

“You don’t want to know the reason because you’re afraid if
you did, you might—”

“Forgive?” she asked, her brow raised in question. “In your
dreams.”

He clenched his jaw and prayed for patience. “If you don’t stop
interrupting me…”

She propped her hands on her hips, glared at him. “What? Are
you resorting to threats now? Oh yeah, you’re not like Matt at all.”

Clint turned and walked away. His hands closed over the back
of the kitchen chair. He was so frustrated he felt like picking it up and
smashing it against the wall. What he did instead was clutch it so tightly his
knuckles turned white. He inhaled deeply and counted backward from ten. When
that didn’t work, he counted backward from twenty. Finally, he turned around to
face her and found her standing in exactly the same position, eyeing him
warily.

“That’s the second time you’ve compared me to Matt.” He was
careful to keep his voice quiet and calm. “Don’t do it again.”

He headed for the door and stomped off toward the barn.

“Damn frustrating woman,” he muttered.

She absolutely refused to talk about the one thing they
needed to discuss. The obstacle that stood between them like a huge brick wall.

Why the hell should he care?

An hour later, he leaned the pitchfork against the side of
the barn. Lifting the hat from his head, he wiped a forearm across his brow to
remove the layer of sweat. With a sigh, he replaced the hat on his head.

He cared because he was tired of being viewed as the bad
guy. Eight years of it was long enough.
Wasn’t that exactly what you
wanted—to make her think you were the bad guy?

Yes, and he had definitely accomplished that goal.

There was no denying the fact that he’d been…intimate with
her friend. Had done it knowing Tricia would catch them in the act. Even if she
hadn’t, someone else would have, and they would have made damn sure Tricia knew
about it.

But damn it, he thought he’d done it for the right reasons,
and he had convinced himself that the end justified the means.

He snorted at the thought. “Yeah, try convincing her of
that.”

You stupid asshole.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Shit, even he
wouldn’t believe it. He’d better put some major thought into how exactly to
word his explanation. Otherwise, he would still come out looking like a
first-class jerk.

One thing he was certain of…before Tricia walked out of his
life again, he would have his say. It was important she know the truth. All of
it. She might not consider it important, but it was crucial to him.

He realized, of course, even after she knew the truth, it
might not change anything. But she was going to hear it, even if he had to tie
her to a chair to get her to listen.

He winced and mentally kicked himself for the thought. Twice
now he’d threatened to or attempted to restrain her hands, and both times she’d
been panic-stricken. No, there would be no more restraint—
ever
.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he drew in a deep breath
and struggled to think logically. What he needed to do was get her to let her
guard down. Then once she was feeling all relaxed…get the words out before she
even realized what was happening. He should have done it last night when she
was snuggled against him.

Now, apparently, it would take some doing to get her in that
position again. Well, not
that
position exactly, but that frame of mind.
Relaxed, friendly, generous. He had no idea how he’d accomplish it, but
somehow, he’d find a way.

Tricia wiped her hands on the dishtowel and tossed it on the
kitchen counter. Leaning against the counter, she crossed her arms over her
chest and sighed heavily.

She had told a blatant lie and didn’t feel the least bit
remorseful about it. It was a matter of survival.

Of course she had felt more than lust, a great deal more.
But this morning memories of the past had come back to haunt her. They started
out as a trickle, but quickly evolved into a raging flood. Once the flood had
begun, she hadn’t been able to hold it back.

Doubts and suspicions nibbled away at her until she’d been
convinced Clint would once again leave her heartbroken. She had traveled down
that road before and knew exactly where it ended.

Sleeping with Clint had been a mistake. But what a wonderful
mistake. For the first time in years she had felt affection and desire. She had
felt…loved. When his body had finally merged with hers, she’d practically heard
the angels above singing the hallelujah chorus.

Her eyes opened wide in alarm, and she straightened, drawing
in a sharp breath of air.
Whoa, back up. Love? How did that word manage to slip
in there?

There was no love. Desire definitely, affection maybe, but
not love. The only kind of love Clint was capable of was the temporary kind.
He’d love her right up until the newness wore off, and then he’d trade her in
for a different model and walk away without a backward glance. It was
imperative she remember that.

It might be easier to think rationally if the smell of sex
wasn’t clinging to her body. She headed down the hallway toward the bathroom.

After adjusting the temperature of the water, she stripped
her clothes off and stepped inside the shower. Sighing with pleasure, she
rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. For several minutes, she simply
enjoyed the sensation of the water beating down on her body, relaxing her
muscles.

She picked up the bar of soap, worked up a luxurious lather,
then realized she’d forgotten to grab a washcloth from the cabinet. With a
shrug, she smeared the soapsuds over her body. The smell of the soap floated up
to her nose, reminding her of Clint’s scent. The feel of her hands moving over
her body reminded her of Clint’s hands stroking her skin, exploring every inch,
leaving her aroused and needy.

Suddenly aware of the direction her thoughts were headed,
she yanked them to a screeching halt. She quickly rinsed off and stepped out of
the shower.

Once dressed, she strolled back toward the living room. When
she reached the door to Clint’s bedroom, her steps faltered as her gaze landed
on the rumpled bed. The bed she’d spent a night in ecstasy in.

Scenes of the previous night flashed before her with such
clarity she could almost feel Clint’s lips against hers. As she remembered his
mouth leaving her lips to travel down her throat, she absently reached up and
stroked her neck. Her body tingled as the erotic daydream continued and he
kissed, licked, and nibbled his way down her body. It had almost seemed as if
he had been intent on tasting every inch of her. As if he had been hungry—no,
more than hungry, ravenous—and she was the only thing that could satisfy him.

When her hand drifted toward her chest, following the path
his lips had taken, she curled her fingers into a ball and jerked her fist to
her side. She shook her head to dislodge the mental images.

Her gaze still on the bed, she smiled. No doubt that bed,
with its ugly green sheets, and the activity that had taken place in it would
remain firmly ingrained in her memory. And that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
It was a memory she would cherish.

Just remember to keep things in perspective. It was
sex—utterly pleasurable, fulfilling sex—but no more than that.

Stepping inside the room, she sank down on the mattress,
curled up on her side, and buried her face in the pillow. She yawned and
chuckled softly at the reason. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before.
Her eyelids grew heavy, and within minutes, she drifted off to sleep.

Some time later she was awakened by a gentle shaking of her
shoulder and someone calling her name, the voice soft and gentle. When she
pried her eyes open, she found Clint sitting beside her on the bed. Her mind
still groggy from sleep, she smiled in automatic response.

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch whisper
soft. “I’ve got to ride out and check on the cattle. I was hoping you’d come
with me.”

She groaned. “My butt’s still sore from the ride yesterday.”

Clint’s lips tugged up into a smile. “You’ve just got to
keep riding. It’ll toughen up eventually.”

“I actually have no desire to have a tough butt, but thanks
anyway.”

His gaze left her eyes to glance at her rear. “Well, I kind
of like your butt the way it is too.” He looked back at her and winked. “So
we’ll take the truck today.”

Rolling over onto her back, she squinted at him as her brain
began to return to working order. “Take the truck? Do you mean we didn’t have
to ride horseback a million miles yesterday? We could have taken the truck?”

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. But I usually ride to keep the
horses exercised. Besides, it did provide me with the opportunity to offer to
massage those aches away.”

“Ah. So you had a plan then?”

“Not a plan. It just ended up working out to my advantage.”

Indeed it had. Even after she’d passed on his original
offer, he had still ended up massaging her rear, along with numerous other
parts of her body.

Which only served as a reminder that Clint was a dangerous
man, one she needed to steer clear of as much as possible. Temptation was much
easier to resist when you simply avoided being in its presence.

“I don’t have to come, right?” she asked. “Last night didn’t
you give a little speech about how you were going to let me make my own
decisions?”

“No, you don’t have to come. It’s your choice. But I’d like
for you to. It won’t take long, and there’s something I want to…”

His words trailed off when a knock thudded on the front
door. He glanced in the direction of the hallway. “Wait here,” he said as he
stood and headed out the room.

She hadn’t missed the worried look that crept into his eyes,
but he was gone before she had a chance to point out that she doubted Matt
would announce his presence by knocking politely on the door. Matt would
pound
on the door, or more likely, simply break it down.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she cocked her head to
the side and concentrated on listening. Hinges creaked as the door opened,
followed by the sound of Clint’s voice and another man’s. Although the other
voice sounded familiar, she couldn’t place it. The one thing she did know was
that it wasn’t Matt.

She got up, padded out into the hallway, and down to the
living room. Sticking her head around the corner a fraction of an inch, she saw
Clint speaking to Jack.

Although she hadn’t made a sound, Jack seemed to sense her
presence. He looked over at her and lifted a brow. A huge grin spread over his
mouth. “Well, look who’s here. Hi, Tricia.”

She took a step inside the room. “Hey, Jack.”

“I’m trying to convince Clint to let me do a little fishing
at his pond.”

Tricia hadn’t even known Clint had a pond. Of course, she
was sure there was a lot of his land she hadn’t seen.

“Ah.” She nodded. “I guess that explains that ugly hat.”

She pressed her lips together to suppress the grin that
yearned to erupt. It had to be one of the most hideous things that had ever
existed. The cotton was so worn it practically molded to his head. The seams
were frayed, and several safety pins held the brim onto the rest of the hat.
She imagined at one time it had been white, but now it was spattered with
numerous stains. No doubt he was afraid to wash it because it might fall
completely apart in the process.

Jack took a step back and laid a hand over his heart as if
her words had hurt him deeply. “Listen to her,” he said, looking in Clint’s
direction, “insulting my hat.”

“I’ve been telling you for years it’s ugly, and it never
bothered you.”

“That’s because I couldn’t care less what you think.” Jack
propped his hands on his hips and returned his gaze to Tricia. “When a man’s
fishing, his lucky fishing hat is an
essential
piece of equipment.”

“I know. My dad had one too. It was just as ugly as yours.”
A giggle slipped out before she could stop it.

“You won’t be laughing when I come back with a big string of
fish.”

“Well, it sounds like fun.” Her tone was casual, cordial,
and the words were completely insincere. Hours gazing at a little ball bobbing
up and down in the water was not her idea of an exciting time. But if he was
under the illusion that it was entertaining, who was she to disagree?

“You want to come? I’ve got an extra rod and reel.”

Tricia stared at him in surprise for a split second.
Apparently, her words had sounded genuine to him. “I’m not much of a fisherman.
The last time I went fishing I was about six years old, and my dad got mad at
me because I made too much noise and scared all the fish away.”

“You can make as much noise as you want. I promise not to
get mad at you.”

“I spent hours on that lake with my dad and didn’t even get
a nibble. All I ended up with was a sunburn. I doubt my luck’s changed much
since then.”

“We’ll sit in the shade. And if you’re real nice, I might
let you wear my hat. I promise it works. You’ll be reeling them in one right
after another.”

She started to refuse his offer and then reconsidered.
Actually, it might not be a bad idea. It would keep her occupied. And it would
make Clint happy, since she wouldn’t be alone at the ranch while he was gone.

“You convinced me. But I think I might pass on wearing the
hat,” she said with a smile. “Give me two minutes to get ready.”

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. He shot a
disapproving look in Jack’s direction, then turned his gaze Tricia’s way.

She lifted a brow. “Something wrong, Clint?”

“When Jack goes fishing, he stays
all day long
.
You’ll be bored out of your mind.”

“If she gets bored, I’ll bring her back,” Jack interjected.

Clint’s gaze stayed on Tricia. “I don’t really think you’d
enjoy yourself.”

She mustered her sweetest smile. “I’m sure I’ll find Jack’s
company very enjoyable.”

Before Clint could protest further, she turned and walked
down the hallway. After she’d thrown her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her
sneakers, and grabbed her sunglasses, they headed out the door.

Jack glanced back at Clint, who stood in the same spot, arms
still crossed over his chest, glaring at them. “When you get done with what
you’ve got to do, come on out.”

“You can count on it,” Clint replied, his words sounding
like an ominous promise.

Half an hour later, Jack pulled his truck beside the pond.
After they unloaded the equipment, Tricia watched carefully as he baited his
hook. She plucked a wiggling worm from the container of dirt. Of course the man
couldn’t use artificial bait…it had to be live bait. Saying a silent apology to
the animal that was about to surrender its life, she picked up a rod. Focusing
all her attention on the task, she tried to mimic what Jack had done.

When Jack chuckled softly, she lifted her head to find him
watching her.

“Want some help?” There was a spark of amusement in his
eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were trying to hold back a
grin.

“No. I can do this.”

Finally, after ten frustrating minutes, she succeeded. The
worm dangled precariously from the hook, looking like it might fall off any
second, but it was on the hook.

“Well,” Jack said mildly, “you certainly accomplished that.”

“Yes, I did.” She shot him a look that dared him to let
loose with that laugh she knew he was holding back.

Jack demonstrated how to cast the line. Although Tricia had
paid close attention to his instructions, her first attempt landed less than
five feet from the shore. Jack watched her with that annoying look of amusement
on his face, which she tried her best to ignore. Determined and persistent, she
repeated the procedure again and again until she was at last successful.

Feeling ridiculously pleased with herself, she smiled at
Jack. Not only had she managed to complete the task, but the worm had actually
remained on the hook. She had been afraid that when she cast the line, it might
go flying off.

They sat side by side on the edge of the pond in silence for
a short time. While it wouldn’t qualify as the most exciting thing she’d ever
done, she did find it relaxing. The peace and quiet that surrounded them was
calming and soothing.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead, removing a layer of
perspiration, which she promptly wiped off on her shorts. Grabbing the front of
her shirt, she pulled the material to and fro to fan herself. Even sitting
under the shade of the tree it had to be close to a hundred degrees, and not a
single breeze had blown.

Jack reached for the cooler. He lifted the lid, dug through
the ice, and handed her a can of soda. She smiled in appreciation, popped the
lid, and took a long swallow of the cool beverage.

“Oh, that’s good,” she proclaimed as she set the can on the
ground beside her.

“You looked a little hot.” Jack stood to reel in his line
and recast it.

“It doesn’t look like your hat’s working very well today,”
she teased.

“Don’t worry, it will.” He settled down on the ground again.
“When we were leaving the house I noticed a red Chevy parked behind the barn.
Florida plates. That your car?”

“Yes.”

“How did you meet Clint?”

“He already told you, he won me in a poker game.”