He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, nodding toward her car. “I'll go ahead and hook you up.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, watching his wide shoulders as he walked away from her. Wilhemina's mind raced a mile a minute. If he liked dogs, then maybe he wasn't a murderer. One of her stepmothers had said that if a man liked dogs, then he probably had a good heart. Shortly thereafter, she and her father had split up. Her father didn't like dogs, but when it came to women, he sometimes acted like a dog.
Standing on the side of the road, she watched the man attach a chain from his truck to the front of her car. He looked inside her car and gave a double take.
“Holy shit!”
Wilhemina stumbled closer. “What? What's the matter?”
“That animal in there. What is it? Did it get caught in a fire or something?”
Realization hit her. “Oh, Chantal. I forgot all about her. I should probably bring her in the truck.”
“Chantal,” he said. “What the hell is that?”
Wilhemina opened the car door and pulled Chantal into her arms as the cat hissed and scowled. “Sorry, darling. I was so excited to find help I forgot all about you.”
Feeling his gaze on her, she looked up into his face. “She's a hairless cat. A rare breed.”
He cocked his head to one side and shook it. “I can see why it's rare. That's the sorriest-looking cat I've ever seen.”
Wilhemina winced. She'd always felt an odd kinship with Chantal because she knew she wasn't particularly attractive. “She grows on you.”
“A little fur would help,” he muttered, slipping into the car and putting it in neutral. “Let's go. It's been a helluva night.”
“I couldn't agree more,” she said, following him. She couldn't help noticing that he had the best butt she'd ever seen.
She felt a rush of heat at the wayward thought. She needed to be careful. He could still turn out like Chad.
He did, however, open the passenger door for her and helped her into the vehicle. Wilhemina glanced into the backseat at five puppies and the sleeping mom. Chantal squirmed to get free, but Wilhemina shook her head. “Absolutely not. You might claw them.”
Her rescuer opened his door and swung into the vehicle. He started the car and put it into low gear.
She was accustomed to her father's brand of power, built on money. This man had a quiet competence, a natural strength that drew her. “What is your name?” she asked.
He glanced at her. “Doug. Doug McGinley. And you?”
“Wimernina,” she said, thinking he wasn't nearly as pretty as Chad, but compelling in a different way.
“Wilhemina what?” he asked.
His direct gaze unsettled her. He might not have any idea who her father was, but she didn't want to take any chances. “Smith,” she told him.
His eyes glinted with disbelief, but he nodded. “Wilhemina
Smith,
nice to meet you.”
Doug successfully towed the car from the ditch and drove several miles down the road. He pulled into a small one-story motel, which bore no resemblance to any of the finer national chains Wilhemina had frequented. She told herself it would just be for one night.
“I'll talk to Wilbur, the owner. He's almost always got room,” Doug said, getting out of the car.
“Thank you,” she said, surprised at his chivalry. He could have just dumped her at the front door with her crippled foot and crippled car. Her mind wandered to the story of the cowboy knight, but she pushed the thought aside. So far, Doug had been kind, and she was relieved not to be sitting on the side of the road, but he could still turn out to be an axe murderer.
Doug returned to the car wearing a disgruntled expression as he adjusted his hat. “Bad news. Wilbur's only got two rooms available. The plumbing is broke in one and the other one needs to be treated for rodent infestation.”
Her stomach turned. “Mice?”
He nodded. “I don't know what to tell you. There's not another hotel for sixty miles.” He sighed and looked at her for a long moment. “I've got room at my house, but—”
Apprehension trickled through her. “There must be something,” she said, feeling desperation grow inside her.
He shrugged. “I dunno what. If you don't mind the plumbing problem, you can stay. Only problem is the carpet's wet too.”
She bit her lip, not liking her options. “If only that animal hadn't run in front of my car,” she said.
“That's what made you run into the ditch?” he asked.
She nodded, wondering what her father would do in this situation. He would probably pay the hotel owner triple the rate to oust a guest and let him stay in the room. Wilhemina had the money, but not the nerve. What would Katie do? she wondered. Katie would have walked on her hurting foot and slept underneath the stars. Wilhemina was too tired, hungry, and shaken.
She looked at Doug McGinley. “I really hope you're not an axe murderer.”
He chuckled, his face breaking into a smile for the first time since she'd first seen him. The change was remarkable. His face and eyes lit with warmth and a laid-back sensuality. “No, I'm just your average hog farmer. I breed dogs on the side.” He met her gaze. “How about you? Are you an axe murderer?”
She blinked in surprise. “I've never touched an axe in my life.”
“Good,” he said, climbing back into the car: “I'll rest easier knowing I probably won't wake up with a blade in my head.”
On edge, she sat quietly as he drove back down the road and turned off on another road, then another. With each passing mile, she felt more isolated and more afraid. Two dozen what ifs played through her head, and she began to sweat.
“This isn't anywhere near the main road,” she said as he pulled into a long dirt drive.
“Yeah, it's a lot quieter back here.”
She swallowed over a lump of fear in her throat as he pulled in front of a two-story farmhouse. “Does anyone else live here with you?”
“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine and getting out of the truck. He rounded the vehicle and opened her door.
She could taste the metallic flavor of fear in her mouth. Biting her lip, she slid out of the truck. The second she stepped on her right foot, she pitched forward.
“Damn,” Doug said, catching her in his arms.
Her heart hammering in her chest, she instinctively clung to him.
Doug frowned. “You might need to get that foot checked tomorrow. In the meantime…” He swung her up in his arms, rendering her completely speechless.
Distracted by his wide shoulders and the sensation of his well-developed muscles bunching beneath her hands, she said, “That's not necess—”
“Just easier than having you fall all over the place,” he said without a pause.
Wilhemina couldn't remember the last time anyone had carried her. She knew she was no lightweight. “But I'm—” She broke off, not wanting to draw attention to her weight.
“You're what?” he asked, climbing the porch steps.
“I don't want you to get a hernia,” she blurted out.
He looked at her and roared with laughter. “Darlin’, I've lifted three times your weight.”
Darlin’.
Her stomach turned. She remembered that Chad had called her darlin’. But Doug had been so kind. She'd thought the same thing about Chad.
Doug carried her into a bedroom downstairs. “You can take my room for the night. I'll take a bed upstairs,” he said, allowing her to slide to her feet just beside the bed.
Torn between severe attraction and severe doubt, she searched his eyes.
“I'll get your bag and the cat, then I'll bring in the puppies. I'll check on you before I head upstairs.”
She nodded and sank down on the bed.
True to his word, he returned with her bag and Chantal. Wilhemina washed her face and brushed her teeth in the connecting bathroom. Surveying his medicine cabinet, she unfastened the top of a bottle and smelled his aftershave. It was a clean, sexy scent. She returned to his big bed and sat there for several moments, not knowing what to do. She couldn't undress yet. A few more moments passed and she glanced at his nightstand. A periodical on hog farming lay on top. The drawer was cracked open and Wilhemina spotted a package of condoms. The sight of it unnerved her and she pushed the drawer closed.
A knock sounded at the door and Doug strolled inside the room. She noticed he took up a lot of space. He seemed to suck the very oxygen from her lungs.
“You okay?” he asked, hands on his lean hips, his crotch nearly at her eye level.
She deliberately looked away. “Yes,” she managed. “I have to say this. I absolutely refuse to pay you for sex.”
Four days. Michael had been searching for Wilhemina for four days with zero results. Michael was starting to sweat, and he had the unsettling sensation that the trail was growing cold. Katie had been uneasy since she first set foot on the plane and he could tell that she was getting worried about Wilhemina. Michael also knew that Ivan's slimy attorney, Gaston Hayes, had been calling the house. In another situation, he could have filed a missing persons report and received some much needed assistance, but Ivan would find out and Michael would lose his opportunity to win the account.
He might lose it anyway. The knowledge was a burr under his skin, but he refused to think about it. Do the job. Deal with the consequences later.
Katie sat across from him in the lobby of their hotel. She wore a distracted expression on her face. Michael had seen the ghosts come and go in her eyes. Texas was clearly a tough place for her to be, and he couldn't help admiring her determination to find Wilhemina despite the fact that she wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Since she's obviously using an assumed name at the hotels, we should call back and ask about a woman with an un-usual cat. Nobody forgets Chantal,” he said. “We can split a list and…
He broke off as he watched Katie staring at woman trying to communicate with the front desk clerk. The woman's speech was deeply slurred. A little girl clung to the woman's cotton dress.
“What? I can't understand you,” the clerk said.
Katie surprised the hell out of Michael as she rose from her chair and approached the woman. Katie began to move her hands and fingers, and Michael quickly saw that she was speaking in sign language.
The woman smiled and began moving her hands in a flurry.
Katie laughed and motioned for her to slow down.
She was a surprise a minute. Michael narrowed his eyes. He wondered where she'd learned sign language. And why. He had been staying up late every night trying to trace Wilhemina through credit card usage or bank withdrawals with no luck. Last night he'd been tempted to run a check on Katie to satisfy his curiosity, but he'd ditched the idea. He'd never met a woman who tried so hard to hide her every emotion. Her eyes, however, gave her away. They told stories of pain and love and unspent passion. Stories that were none of his concern.
The same way the drama in front of the desk clerk was none of his concern. He watched Katie talking to the front desk clerk, but the man firmly shook his head. Katie glanced over her shoulder and met Michael's gaze.
In that half moment, he felt her asking for help. Michael felt an odd twist in his gut at the micro-glimmer of trust in her eyes. He knew she didn't trust easily, and that she'd turned to him meant something, It shouldn't, but it did.
She seemed to catch herself and turned back to the clerk who continued to shake his head. Michael held an internal debate that lasted twenty seconds. He preferred to avoid messy situations, and this one looked potentially: messy. With a sigh, he rose from his chair and walked toward the front desk. “Problem?” he asked Katie in a low voice.
She jerked around and met his gaze. He felt a flash of electricity zap between them. He put it down to static electricity in the carpet, or maybe in her hair. “This is Rosa. She's been hearing disabled since birth. She got a letter telling her she had won a trip for two to the rodeo for twenty-five dollars. She sent in the money and received a contest confirmation, but it looks like it's a hoax. The hotel manager doesn't know what she's talking about. Plus the hotel is full for the rodeo. So now, she has spent money on bus tickets and there's no hotel room or rodeo tickets.”
“You have no rooms at all?” Michael asked the desk clerk in disbelief.
The clerk shook his head. “Everybody's booked for the rodeo. I've got prepaid confirmations for people coming into town today. You two are lucky you've still got your rooms.”
He'd known this was going to be messy. He wasn't responsible for fixing Rosa's problems. It wasn't his job to wipe the disappointed expression off the little girl's face either. He was surprised Katie had allowed herself to be dragged into this. He'd gotten the impression she was almost as much of a loner as he was.
He could crab all he wanted, but Michael couldn't stop his brain from trying to solve the problem. It didn't take long.
Rooms. Plural.
Michael glanced at Katie. He stepped back and crooked her finger for her to join him. “How much do you want to help Rosa and her daughter?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean how much are you willing to be inconvenienced in order to help them?”
Her eyes turned wary. “I don't know. What did you have in mind?”
“You could give up your room for the night,” he suggested.
“And stay where?”
“With me,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “With you, but that's not—I don't think—” She gave a little huff and lowered her voice. “I don't think it's a good idea for us to, well, sleep together.”
“Why not?” he asked, pushing her a little because she so rarely lost her composure.
She glanced away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Because we have a professional association. Nothing more.”
“Nothing has to happen,” Michael told her.
She stared hard at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked skeptically.
He chuckled, but fought an undercurrent of discomfort. “I haven't acted like I'm trying to get in your pants, have I?”
She paused and glanced downward. “No,” she finally admitted. “But…”
“But what?”
She looked up at him and he saw it again, the combination of fire and darkness in her eyes that made him think she would be hell on wheels in bed. In another life, he would have been tempted to find out. This life was reserved for rebuilding his reputation. This day was reserved for finding Wilhemina.