Protecting Tricia (4 page)

“We need to talk, Tricia.”

“No, we don’t.”

Her open hostility might have had another man backing down,
but not him. He could do this. It just needed to be handled the right way. He’d
be patient, calm, rational.

“I disagree. If we—”

“Okay, you want to talk? Why don’t we talk about how you
tried to force me to come here against my will?” She propped her hands on her
hips, tilted her head, and looked off into space, her face taking on the
appearance of someone deep in thought. “Hmm. I could be wrong...” She brought
her gaze back to him. “But I do believe that may be illegal.”

“In the end, you
agreed
to come. In fact, you claimed
you were about to agree to it on your own without any further persuasion from
me.”

“That’s beside the point. If I hadn’t, you would have
brought me here anyway, whether I wanted to come or not. My God, Clint, you
threatened to tie me up.”

“We needed to get out of there fast. We didn’t have time to
sit around leisurely discussing the issue.” When she didn’t reply, merely
stared at him with an unforgiving look on her face, he tried again. “You’re
safe, and that’s what’s important.” To ensure she understood exactly where he
stood, he added, “I’m sorry I was physical with you, but make no mistake about
it, I’d do it again if I had to.”

Her expression hardened, and he almost expected to see fire
shoot out of her eyes.

“Look, buster, I’ve spent the last three years being
controlled by Matt. It wasn’t my plan to trade in one controlling jerk for
another.”

“Don’t compare me to him. I’m nothing like him.” Clint
worked hard to keep his tone mild, but there was no mistaking the warning in
his voice.

“Really? Matt used to make decisions for me. Isn’t that what
you did? It was your decision to bring me here, and when I didn’t immediately
agree with it, you resorted to force, threats, and intimidation. It’s exactly
the kind of thing Matt would have done.”

“I’m just trying to help you. If you’d stop fighting me—”

“I generally do fight when people are threatening to tie me
up.”

There was that prissy tone again, and it grated on his
nerves. His temper climbed another notch, and his plan to remain patient, calm,
and rational was all but forgotten. He stood and stepped toward her until his
face was mere inches from hers. He had to give her credit, though. She stood
her ground, firmly rooted to the spot, not moving back so much as an inch.

“Is that so?” he asked. “I can remember a time when you
enjoyed me tying you up.”

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.

“As a matter of fact,” he continued, “it was
your
idea.”

Every bit of color drained from her face. “You… I
never…not…” she sputtered. She took a step back, shaking her head as if to deny
his words.

He silently cursed himself, wishing he could snatch the
words back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Although it had been the truth, a massive difference existed
between the two incidents. That night she’d been a willing participant,
allowing him the privilege of binding her hands, knowing he’d never hurt her or
force her to do anything she didn’t wish to do. The situation this afternoon
had been entirely different.

“You’re despicable. I hate you.” Her words were spoken
softly, but they were ice cold. So cold that his body chilled.

He knew how she felt, had known it for eight long years. But
the words still stabbed at his heart.

Hoping that his efforts to keep his face expressionless were
successful, he focused on speaking calmly. “I know you do. But whether you hate
me or not, you need me. You’re stuck with me because, right now, I’m all you’ve
got.”

She shook her head slowly, and her eyes teared. But almost
immediately she blinked a few times and the moisture disappeared. He said a
silent prayer of gratitude. Tears were the last thing he needed now. He
definitely wouldn’t be capable of handling that.

“It’s not like you’re stuck with me forever. As soon as Matt
leaves town, you can go back to Neil and Jenny’s.” Because he thought it would
make her happy, and because it was the truth, he added, “You’ll never have to
see me again.”

“I’m looking forward to that. If we’re finished now, I’d
like to go to bed.”

Sure, they were finished. He’d done enough damage for one
night. Hell, he’d done enough damage for the year. He should have just gone out
onto the deck and never spoken to her.

“Wait a minute, and I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

He went to his bedroom and dug through a drawer until he
located a clean t-shirt. When he stepped out into the hallway, he found Tricia
waiting for him outside the door of the guest room. She snatched the shirt from
his hand, stalked into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.

* * * *

Clint was awakened from a restless sleep by a noise. He
glanced at the clock on the nightstand, squinting against the glare of the red
illuminated numbers. 2:37 AM. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he focused
on listening, bolting to an upright position when he heard a thud followed by
some type of scraping sound.

Quietly, he slid out of bed. Since he had no desire to face
a possible intruder in his underwear, he grabbed his jeans off the dresser and
tugged them on. Easing his bedroom door open, he cursed silently at the squeak
of the hinges. He stepped into the hallway and stood still, listening. The
creaking of a floorboard confirmed that someone was definitely moving around in
the house. He crept down the hall, being careful to avoid making any noise at
all.

Passing the guest bedroom, he saw the door ajar and pushed
it open. Light from the moon filtered in through the curtains and shined on the
bed. The empty bed. Panic and dread poured through his body before he had a
chance to ward it off.

Stop being ridiculous. She’s only gone to the bathroom.

He stepped back into the hallway and quickly traveled the
few steps necessary to reach the bathroom. The door stood wide open, the light
was off, and the room was completely unoccupied.

With urgency, he picked up his pace but somehow managed to
maintain enough level-headedness to ensure he kept his movements quiet. When he
reached the living room, he scanned the area, finding nothing out of place.

Another floorboard creaked behind him, and he stiffened.
Turning, he caught sight of a flash of light in the kitchen. He clenched his
hands into fists, braced himself, and moved toward the light.

Clint exhaled a sigh of relief at the sight of Tricia
standing in front of the open door of the refrigerator. The tension eased from
his body, and his fists uncurled.

She bent over to peer at the items on the bottom shelf, the
motion causing her t-shirt to creep up her body. When she reached inside the
refrigerator to sift through the items, the shirt inched up even further.

His eyes widened in surprise at the view before him. It had
been almost a decade since he’d had a glimpse of her naked butt, but Lord, she
still had a rear that could make a man’s mouth water.

Unbidden, a picture flashed in his mind of a time when she
had been in a very similar position, him standing behind her, his fingers
gripping her hips firmly.

Before he had time to reminisce any further, she
straightened and the t-shirt returned to its proper position, covering the part
of her anatomy he’d been ogling.

With both hands curled around a bowl, she nudged the
refrigerator door shut with her hip. As it closed, the room plunged into
darkness, and within seconds she ran right smack dab into him. She gasped and
instantly retreated. Then her fingertips tentatively touched his bare chest.
She yanked her hand back like she had been burned.

“It’s just me.” Clint stepped away and flipped on the
overhead light.

He should have made her aware of his presence. He’d probably
scared her half to death. But he hadn’t warned her because he’d been
distracted. Totally distracted. So instead of making his presence known, he’d
stood there leering at her like a damned voyeur. But damn it, he was only
human, and what man wouldn’t have appreciated such a sight?

He turned to face Tricia, and one glance at her face
extinguished those lustful cravings blazing inside him. She no longer wore
makeup, and prominent bruises darkened her cheek. Ugly bruises that stood out
in stark contrast against her fair skin. He felt like someone had sucker
punched him in the gut.

Conflicting emotions and thoughts filled him. Anger and
outright disgust toward Matt mixed with compassion and empathy for Tricia. He
had the most incredible urge to walk out the door, hunt Matt down, and beat the
hell out of him. At the same time, he didn’t want to leave the room. He wanted
to take Tricia in his arms, hold her, comfort her, and kiss her face until the
bruises disappeared.

Instinctively, he stepped toward her, began to reach for
her. Thankfully, sanity reclaimed control and halted his hand before he’d
actually completed the task. He jerked his hand back and clenched it into a
fist at his side. If he made any attempt to touch her, she just might leave
some bruises on
his
face.

Tricia took a step back, one of her hands letting go of the
bowl to reach up. Stopping mid-way to her face, she dropped her hand and
grasped the side of the bowl again. With that action, Clint realized she knew
how bad it looked. She wanted to cover it up, to hide it.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he said, stating the
obvious.

“I’m hungry.”

“In the future, eat at dinner and avoid these late-night
refrigerator raids.”

Without responding, Tricia walked past him and placed the
bowl in the microwave.

Clint started to leave the room but had only gotten a few
steps before he stopped and turned toward her. He had to ask.

“Tricia, where the hell are your panties?”

She whirled around to face him. “Excuse me?”

“Why aren’t you wearing panties?” he demanded.

She blushed at the question. Blowing out a soft breath, she
broke eye contact with him and ran a hand through her hair. He knew the gesture
well. It was what she did when she was flustered.

When she looked back, she stared him straight in the eye. “I
had to wash them out,” she said calmly. “If you remember, I don’t have any
clothes here.”

“Well, you can’t run around like that.”

It simply wasn’t healthy for her, and it definitely wasn’t
healthy for him.

If he could go to Neil’s and retrieve her clothing, he
would. But he couldn’t take Tricia to Lexington for fear someone might spot
her, and he refused to leave her alone for the five hours it would take him to
make the trip.

You should have taken the time to get her stuff before
you left.
But he hadn’t wanted to remain in Lexington one second longer
than absolutely necessary. He’d depended on Neil bringing out her things and
hadn’t even stopped to consider the fact that Neil might not be able to do that
immediately.

“I’ll go into town tomorrow and buy whatever you need to get
you by until the weekend,” Clint said. “Just make me a list.”

“I don’t have money to throw away on something I can do
without. Once Jenny and Neil bring my clothes, I’ll have everything I need. I can
survive for a few days.”

“I’m not sure I can,” he muttered under his breath. He could
just imagine the days ahead. Constantly wondering whether or not she was
wearing panties—it would be nothing short of torture.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about the money.
I’ll buy them for you.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Tricia, I’m buying you the damn panties,” he snapped.

She lifted a brow then shook her head and chuckled softly.
“I can’t believe we’re arguing over panties.” She waved a hand in the air.
“Fine. It’s your money. If you want to throw it away, that’s up to you.”

“Make me a list, and I guess I need sizes too.”

“How do I know you’re not going to come back with granny
panties?”

“I promise I’ll buy you something lacy and sexy.” Then spend
his time imagining what she looked like in them. It appeared that whatever he
did, he’d be tortured.

“Why don’t you just take me with you?”

The microwave dinged. Tricia opened the door, and the smell
of the spicy spaghetti sauce floated across the room.

Clint shook his head. “I don’t want anyone knowing you’re
here. It’s safer that way.”

After depositing the bowl on the table, Tricia turned to
face him. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him silently, as if
considering her next words.

“And I suppose the people here are used to you going into
the store and buying women’s panties?”

Clint opened his mouth to speak, then clamped it shut. How
was he supposed to respond to that? She had a point. Within an hour of the
purchase, the news would be all over town that Clint Owens was a cross-dresser.

The corner of her mouth tilted up, and amusement twinkled in
her eyes. “On second thought, maybe you should be the one to buy them.”

The expression on her face was the closest to happiness he’d
seen her look all day. His heart swelled with pleasure, then immediately
deflated when his gaze landed on the bruises.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t take you to town with me
looking like—” He gestured vaguely toward her face. “—that.”

Her lips straightened, and the amusement disappeared from
her eyes. After a moment, she lifted a shoulder. “That’s not a problem. I have
makeup in my purse.”

“Fine. Be ready to leave by eight-thirty.”

“Are you sure? Because if you want to buy them…” She held
her hands up in surrender as the words trailed off.

“I’m sure,” he snapped. He took a deep breath and gave a
careless shrug. “Besides, it’s probably best if we stick together. If Matt does
show up, it’ll be better if you’re in town with me instead of being here by
yourself.”

* * * *

The next morning, as they rode into town, Tricia felt like
she had won a small victory. The fact that Clint had agreed to take her with
him was a tiny thing, an insignificant thing, and it shouldn’t have held such
importance to her. But it did.

Clint turned off the dusty dirt road onto a two-lane paved
highway. Tricia stared out the window at the passing trees as she considered
the situation and tried to determine why she was so elated about this
accomplishment.

It took a good ten miles for her to figure it out, and the
conclusion she reached was simple. For years there had been a man in her life
who had made decisions for her—all the decisions—and once he’d made up his
mind, he’d refused to budge. What she wanted had never been a consideration.
This time, though, she’d actually convinced a man to change his mind.

From the corner of her eye, she snuck a glance at Clint and
wondered once again why he was being so
helpful
. Although the
why
was irrelevant. When she needed help, he’d provided it—had gone out of his way
to do it. Had it been anyone else, she’d be gushing with gratitude. But it
wasn’t anyone else. It was the man who had stomped on her heart and pride.

Of course, that had occurred years ago. One would think
she’d be able to put it behind her after all this time. She wished she could.
But some hurts were too deep to be forgotten or forgiven.

If that weren’t enough to have her swallowing her words of
appreciation, the way Clint had
persuaded
her to accept his help did.
Strange really, because during the time they’d spent together he’d never
behaved in such a manner. He’d never been demanding or controlling. Then again,
in the beginning of her relationship with Matt, he hadn’t acted that way
either. But that had certainly changed as time progressed.

Heaving out a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. On
top of everything else, she was still irked with Clint for having the nerve to
remind
her of their night of bondage fun. Naturally, once he had nudged the memory
from her mind, it lingered, refusing to leave, no matter how forcefully she
tried to push it away. When she’d finally drifted off to sleep, she’d relived
the event in her dreams.

His hands stroking her skin, followed by his lips and
tongue. He’d tasted every inch of her, right down to her toes, which had
shocked her somewhat, but when he’d declared her
utterly delicious
, the
shock gave way to delight. He’d taken his time exploring her body, hours it
seemed, and by the end of the night she’d learned where every single one of her
erogenous zones were. He’d teased her mercilessly, bringing her to the brink of
orgasm over and over again, and then backing off, until finally she had pleaded
for release.

Heat rose to her face as she remembered the shameless way
she’d begged him to take her.

This morning she’d woken up aroused and aching and cursing
herself for it.

As enjoyable as it had been, she had no intention of ever
repeating that particular sexual adventure. It was a game that required
absolute trust in one’s partner. Never again would she be able to trust anyone
that completely.

Massaging her forehead, she focused on clearing her head.
She had enough to deal with right now without wasting any of her time or energy
on thoughts of Clint…or sex. She directed her attention instead to her future
plans. The first thing she needed to do was find a job. She began to make a
mental list of her employable skills. Sadly, they weren’t very impressive.

Over an hour after they had left the ranch, Clint pulled
into the parking lot of a department store. “Let’s make this quick.”

When they reached the glass door at the store’s entrance, he
held it open and waited for her to precede him into the building.

“Come on,” he said as he brushed past her and led the way to
the lingerie department. He gestured toward the racks of undergarments. “Get
whatever you need.”

Tricia zeroed in on a rack that looked promising and begin
to search through the hangers. Clint stood off to the side, his hands stuffed
in the pockets of his jeans, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Not satisfied with what she’d found on the first rack,
Tricia moved on to another one.

Clint sighed loudly. “For God’s sake, Tricia, pick something
and let’s go.”

She spared a quick glance in his direction and then
continued with her search. “There’s a lot to choose from.”

“It’s just panties. How hard can it be?”

“Well, there’s briefs, low rise, bikini, French cut, thongs,
and that’s just the style. Then you have to pick a color.” She looked over at
Clint to find him staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. Because she rather
enjoyed the look of confusion on his face, she continued, “Also, you have to
decide on a fabric.”

She pulled a hanger from the rack and considered the item,
rubbing the fabric between her fingers.

“Personally, I like silk the best.” She returned her gaze to
Clint. “There’s just something about the feeling of silk against your skin.”

For a brief second his eyes darkened. Tricia had seen that
look of passion on his face often enough to recognize it. But it disappeared so
quickly she wondered if she had imagined it.

He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes heavenward, as if
asking for divine guidance. “You have exactly three minutes to pick something.”

His tone was firm, and Tricia had no reason to doubt his
words were sincere, so she turned back to the rack and began searching in
earnest.

“Hi, Clint. I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”

Tricia looked up at the sound of the female voice. The owner
of the voice was a redhead. Clint did like redheads, preferred them over
brunettes actually, a fact she had learned the hard way.

This particular redhead had a tiny waist, an ample bosom,
and looked as if she had barely graduated high school. Miss Homecoming Queen aimed
a dazzling smile in Clint’s direction. Of course, Tricia couldn’t be sure if
her smile dazzled all the time or if that particular smile was reserved
exclusively for the men.

“Hi, Candy,” Clint replied.

Tricia rolled her eyes at the name.
Candy indeed.

Gazing at Clint with adoring eyes, the woman laid her hand
on his bicep. “We’ve missed seeing you.”