Protecting Tricia (9 page)

“I couldn’t find anything. It was probably some animals
outside.”

She stared at him silently as she dissected his words. In
essence, he was admitting he didn’t know what it had been. Possibly it had been
animals, but she’d never been woken before by the sound of animals.

It could have been Matt. Maybe he’d found her and was
waiting for his chance to pounce.

Clint reached for her hand and lifted it. “What’s this?”

She looked down at the bottle of perfume she still held. “I
was going to spray him in the eyes with it.”

“It would have been pretty effective if you had been able to
accomplish it.”

Tugging her hand away, she walked to the dresser and set the
bottle down, then crossed the room and dropped onto the edge of the bed. She wrapped
her arms around her body in an effort to prevent the shaking that threatened to
begin. The thought of what Matt would do to her if he caught her terrified her.

Clint stood in the doorway, his hands braced against the
frame, and watched her. After several minutes, he walked over and crouched in
front of her.

“I checked out everything. There’s nobody here but us.” He
took her hands in his. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You
believe that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered with a slight nod of her head.

She knew Clint wouldn’t let Matt hurt her…if he knew about
it. But in her mind’s eye, she could see the scene taking place. Matt would
slip into the house and snatch her away in the middle of the night. Clint,
sound asleep in another room, wouldn’t hear her struggles. As she thought about
it, her body began to tremble.

“You’re perfectly safe. Trust me.” He rubbed her arms and
then took her hands again, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “There’s nothing
to worry about. Try to go back to sleep.”

She looked at him doubtfully. “I don’t think that’s going to
happen.”

“Try.”

“I doubt I could even close my eyes.”

Clint remained where he was, staring at her hands as he
rubbed them with his own. Finally, he looked up at her. “How about if I stay
with you until you fall asleep?”

At his offer, an intense surge of gratitude flowed through
her.

She nodded, and he released her hands and pushed himself up.
He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and moved it beside the bed.
After shutting the door, he locked it then flipped off the light.

When the room plunged into darkness, she experienced a brief
moment of panic. Feeling foolish, she forced the fear away. Clint was right
there with her. She was safe.

The mattress dipped slightly as Clint evidently propped his
feet on the end of the bed.

She crawled under the covers, snuggled against the pillow,
and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, she still
wasn’t able to see Clint’s face, but she could see his form. Large, strong,
powerful.

Her protector, standing guard over her.

He shifted, resituating his body. That hard, small chair had
to be pretty uncomfortable. And here she was in a nice, soft bed, one which was
plenty big enough for both of them. She could offer to share it with him. It
might even make her feel safer having him closer to her.

Although the urge to extend the invitation was strong, she
resisted, fully aware it could easily result in her doing something extremely
foolish.

* * * *

Tricia woke slowly to the sound of birds chirping. When she
opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Clint. He was still sitting in the
chair at the end of the bed, and he was staring at her. She smiled at him, her
mind still fuzzy from the dream. A dream of him.

An incredibly erotic dream in which he’d lavished attention
on her, worshipped every inch of her body as he’d whispered words of
admiration.

It’d been a long time since she’d experienced sex like that.
With Matt sex had always been about his pleasure, never hers. He’d never taken
the time to make her feel special, cared for.

But Clint always had.

It’s just a dream.

She cleared her throat and mumbled, “Good morning.”

“Morning.” He straightened in the chair, crossed his arms
over his chest. In that pose and with the determination in his eyes, he looked
prepared for battle. “I think it’s time to call David.”

His words jolted her fully awake. “You promised me you
wouldn’t,” she reminded him as she sat up.

“I changed my mind.”

As Clint watched the color drain from Tricia’s face, a pang
of remorse stabbed at his heart. Forcing himself to disregard it, he focused on
hardening his resolve.

He’d spent all night in that stiff, uncomfortable chair, his
imagination conjuring up horrible images of what would happen if Matt showed up
when he wasn’t there to protect her.

And while he was being tormented by nightmares, she’d been
sleeping contently. Twisting and stretching her body sensually, letting out
some of the most erotic little moans he’d ever heard.

Moans that had him hardening in response. And therein lay
the problem. He’d been so busy lusting after her, he’d ignored the mission. He
needed to protect her, and the only way to really do that was to permanently
remove Matt from her life.

David was the solution.

“You can’t call him,” Tricia gasped.

“I can, and I’m going to.” Clint stood and started for the
bedroom door. Although absolutely confident in his decision, he was also smart
enough to know he had to do it fast before the sight of her pale face and
fearful eyes weakened his determination.

As he walked down the hallway toward the living room, he
heard Tricia’s hurried footsteps behind him.

“Clint. Wait. Let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

She grabbed his arm, clutched it. “Please.”

He turned to face her. “Tricia, this whole situation is
ridiculous. We’re just sitting around waiting. It’s nerve racking, and it’s
dangerous. What you need to do is make sure Matt never shows up. You need a
restraining order.”

“I know Matt better than you do. A restraining order won’t stop
him. It’s only going to make him angrier. Let’s wait a few more days and see if
he leaves.”

“We’ve waited long enough. You need help.”

“I’ve got help. I’ve got you.”

That statement kicked him in the stomach because it was more
than just words. Clint looked at the green eyes staring into his. It had been a
decade since Tricia had gazed at him with such trust and confidence.

He wished he could give her what she asked for. But he
couldn’t.

“I’m not enough. You need the help of the police.” He pried
her grip from his arm and turned.

Tricia shifted her body in front of his before he’d had time
to take a single step. She crossed her arms over her chest, determination
filling her eyes. “It’s my choice how I deal with Matt.”

“You’re making the wrong choice.”

“A couple of days, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Tricia, honey, David’s one of the good guys. He’s going to
help you.”

She didn’t respond, just continued to stare at him with
pleading eyes.

With a shake of his head, he stepped around her. He made his
way to the end table, lifted the phone from the base, and hit the
talk
button. Before he had time to dial, Tricia plucked the phone from his hand,
turned it off, and tossed it on the couch.

“Tricia, you’re wasting your time. My mind’s made up.”

She ran her fingertips over his shoulders, her touch soft
and caressing. “Maybe I can change it.”

Her hands traveled over his chest. When her fingers grazed
his nipple, it ignited a spark that rapidly spread through his entire body.

“You’re…” He had to stop and clear his throat before he
could continue. “You’re willing to sleep with me in order to stop me.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I never said that.”

“No, you didn’t say it. But you’re sure as hell implying
it.”

Her plan was incredibly transparent and very simple—to distract
him, to lure him away from what he intended to do, from what needed to be done.
And he had to admit, she was indeed very alluring.

For a brief second, he wondered how far she would take it.
Would she be willing to have sex with him in order to accomplish her goal?

She looked up at him with a flirtatious smile. He watched in
fascination as her tongue peeked out to brush over her lips.

A part of him wanted to push her away and make the phone
call. Another part ached to accept whatever it was that she offered. But they
were overruled by the part that was frustrated as hell because he knew he could
do neither.

“Damn,” he muttered. He shook his head and blew out a breath
of air. “Damn.”

If she was willing to go to such an extreme to keep him from
calling David, then the thought of it must really terrify her. He wrapped his
hands around hers and removed them from his body. If he didn’t get her hands
off him now, she was going to drive him crazy.

“All right. I’ll wait a few more days,” he said, against his
better judgment. “As long as you’re willing to agree to my conditions.”

* * * *

Tricia wiped the sweat from her brow, flexed her aching
hand, and scowled at the man standing in front of her.

“Come on, Tricia, hit me,” Clint ordered. He stood in the
middle of the backyard, his hands planted on his hips, his legs braced apart.
His impatience was evident in both his tone and the expression on his face.

“I did.”

“That was a tap, it wasn’t a punch. Try again. Use all your
strength. Hit me like you really want to hurt me.”

She took a deep breath. With determination, she balled her
hand into a tight fist, drew back her arm, and socked him in the gut.

“Is that the best you can do? You hit like a girl.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I am a girl,” she snapped. Clint
wasn’t the only one losing patience. She had punched that rock hard stomach of
his half a dozen times, and it hadn’t even fazed him.

His gaze raked down her body and back up again. “Oh, I
haven’t forgotten. You may be a girl, but you don’t have to hit like one.”

“I hit you as hard as I could.” She rubbed her stinging
knuckles and looked at him suspiciously. “It didn’t hurt at all?”

“Barely felt it.” He rubbed his hand over his face, and then
dragged it through his hair. “Okay, obviously you’re not going to be able to
knock him off his feet, so I guess we need to change the focus.”

He studied her for a moment as if considering options.

“The first thing you need to concentrate on is surprising
him,” Clint said. “The best way to do that is to attack mid-sentence—yours or
his, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.”

“When attacking you need to zero in on his most vulnerable
areas. Do you know what those are?”

“At the top of the list would be the groin, I’d imagine.”

“That’s one of them. Is that where you’d attack first?”

“If I could.”

“Then you’d be making a big mistake. Every guy in the world
knows when a woman’s mad that’s the first place she’s going to try to hit him.
He’ll be expecting it.”

“Okay,
General Patton
, where should I attack?”

“The throat’s a good place.” He stepped forward and ran his
hand over her throat.

His stroke was gentle, sending a shiver through her body. She
silently reprimanded herself for her body’s involuntary reaction to his touch.
What was wrong with her?

“There’s no muscle tissue around the throat for protection,
so a blow to it is extremely painful.”

“Hmm.”

Now he was brushing the back of his fingers up and down her
throat. If he’d only stop it, then maybe she could regain control of her
composure. Of course, she could simply ask him to stop, and he would, she had
no doubt about that. But then she’d have to face another one of his
self-satisfied little smiles like she had experienced the night before. And she
absolutely refused to let him know how much his touch affected her.

Her gaze shifted to meet his, and the look in his eyes made
it obvious that he knew anyway.

“You can use your fist or your elbow.” He took her arm, bent
it, and cupped her elbow in his palm. His thumb stroked her skin. “Your elbow
is the hardest point on your body.”

“Really?” It came out as a whisper.

“Mmm-hmm,” he replied softly.

For several seconds they stared into each other’s eyes as he
continued to caress her skin. Finally, he dropped her arm. Shifting his gaze
away, he cleared his throat. And the spell was broken.

“Okay.” He stopped to clear his throat again. “Okay. Pay
attention.” He released a long breath and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
“Damn, what was I saying?”

Tricia looked away from Clint toward an enormous oak tree in
the backyard. Something about the leaves swaying gently in the light breeze
helped calm the nervous flutters in her stomach.

It took several seconds of intense focusing for her to
remember what he’d been saying. “That I should go for the throat, use my fist
or my elbow.”

“Right. If you can find a weapon, go for his knee or his
nose. If you break either of those, it hurts like hell.”

She nodded at his instructions and his business-like tone.

“If he’s behind you...” He moved in back of her and wrapped
both his hands loosely around her neck. “What would you do in this situation?”

She curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled. No
matter how hard she yanked, his hands wouldn’t budge.

“Choose one of my fingers, just one, and pull it back.”

When she followed his instructions, he released the hold and
jerked his hands back. “Ouch!”

She turned to face him and couldn’t help but smile at the
sight of him massaging the abused finger.

“I think you’ve got the idea,” he muttered. “Let’s move on
before I lose all feeling in my hand.” He twisted her body around so he was
behind her once again. Then he placed his arm around her throat. “What are you
going to do now?”

After she had tried unsuccessfully to escape from the
chokehold, he led her through a series of complex steps which involved forcing
her chin into the inside of his elbow and taking a bite out of his biceps. If
she were lucky, this would result in a slight release of pressure, allowing her
mere seconds to escape.

Clint forced her to repeat the steps again and again until
he was satisfied she could perform the movements correctly and instinctively
without any hesitation. He made a point of emphasizing several times that in a
chokehold she would only have a few moments to respond before she lost
consciousness due to lack of oxygen.

“How did you learn so much about fighting?” Tricia asked.
“I’ve never seen you fight.”

“Just because you haven’t seen me do it doesn’t mean I don’t
know how.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

He shrugged. “I tended bar for a while when I first moved to
Texas,” he said, as if that explained it all. And actually, it did.

“Anything else I should know?” she asked.

“Fight dirty. Do whatever’s necessary in order to escape.
Use your teeth.” He rubbed his bicep. “I know you’ve got strong teeth. Use your
fingernails, scratch the hell out of his face and eyes. I know how much damage
you can do with those things.”

Mystified by his last comment, she looked at him with her
brows wrinkled in confusion. They hadn’t gone over any moves that involved
using her fingernails.

His lips curved into a secretive smile. Suddenly, she
understood exactly what had prompted the comment. There had been many times
when her fingernails had left scratches down his back. The memories it evoked,
memories of pleasure as his body had joined with hers, had her breathing accelerating.
Then Clint winked at her, and she was barely able to breathe at all.

* * * *

Several hours later, Tricia entered the barn just as Clint
finished saddling the horses. They were beautiful, muscular animals. One was
solid reddish brown, while the other had a dark brown body with a black tail
and mane.

“You ready to go?” Clint asked.

“Yep.”

He pushed his hat back and examined her face. “Well, you
don’t have to look so happy about it.”

“I don’t mind. After all, it was one of your conditions.”
Per the decree of Clint Owens, if he was further than shouting distance from
the house, she was required to be with him.

He rubbed a hand over one of the horses’ neck. “Come and
meet Aphrodite.”

Tricia walked over and stroked the horse’s nose.
“Aphrodite?”

“That’s right. The goddess of love and sexual desire.”

“That seems like a pretty unusual name for a horse.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t name her. My uncle had a thing for
Greek mythology.”

She jerked her chin in the direction of his horse. “What’s
his name?”

“Dionysus.”

Tricia searched her memory but came up blank. In one of her
high school literature classes, they had studied Greek myths briefly. But that
had been a decade ago, and even then she hadn’t been able to remember all the
gods, goddesses, demi-gods. There had to be hundreds of them.

“The god of wine and ecstasy,” Clint supplied.

“Oh. Well, then. Sex and ecstasy. The two sort of seem to
fit each other.”

“Yeah, they do.” Clint glanced at her, his brow wrinkled in
thought. “I’ll be right back.”

He headed toward a room at the side of the barn and returned
carrying a white straw cowboy hat which he promptly plopped on top of her head.
The hat was so large it fell all the way to the bridge of her nose, completely
covering her eyes. She shoved the brim back and looked at him to find an amused
grin on his face.

“I don’t need a hat.” When she released her hold on it, it
immediately fell back over her eyes again.

With a chuckle, he plucked it from her head. “Yes, you do.
Otherwise you’re going to end up with a sunburned face. But I don’t think you
can wear this one.”

He turned and headed back to the room again. As he walked
away, Tricia stared at his back and his earlier comment about her tendency to
scratch when aroused drifted through her mind. Her gaze traveled lower and
landed on his rear. While she had never left scratches on that part of his
body, she did remember digging her fingers in as she’d urged…