To Love & Protect Her. Margaret Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ understand. You don’t really know me that well.”

      She knew him well enough to trust him completely, she realized. She had no hesitation about going to El Paso, or anywhere else, with Griff. “It’s not that. I’ve just never taken off like this before, without planning ahead of time. I’ve never been a really spontaneous kind of person.”

      “I’m sure I can think of somewhere else to go.”

      “No. El Paso is fine.” A recklessness she didn’t recognize swept over her. “The farther the better.”

      His mouth curled into a tiny grin. “For someone who’s never been a really spontaneous kind of person, I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

      “You’ll keep me safe, Griff. I’m not worried about that.”

      “What about your job? Don’t you have to teach at the university?”

      “Classes are off for Christmas break. So no one will miss me. I can go wherever I want to go.”

      “Being a loner isn’t always a good thing.”

      She glanced over at him and his mouth was a tight line.

      “If those two had succeeded,” he continued, “how long would it have been before you were missed?”

      That was something she didn’t want to think about. “Are you saying I should be checking in with someone on a regular basis?”

      “It wouldn’t hurt.”

      “Who do you check in with, Griff?” Her voice held just the right amount of polite enquiry, she thought with satisfaction.

      His mouth tightened further. “That’s different. I know how to take care of myself.”

      “So do I. You probably don’t know it, but I traveled the world with my father while I was growing up.” She felt the same pull of grief and pain that always came when she talked about her father. “I learned very early how to take care of myself.”

      “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His voice was rough. “I’m talking about protecting yourself.”

      “I’ve taken a self-defense class. I know what to do.”

      “It sure helped tonight, didn’t it.”

      She looked away from him and stared out the window. Already the town was falling behind them, and the car passed rolling hills and open pasture. Her home and her job were behind them. And she hoped the kidnappers were, as well. “Now that I know someone wants to kidnap me, I’ll be prepared. I’ll be more alert.”

      She heard him sigh. “Sorry, Willa. I didn’t mean to pick on you. And you’re not going to have to worry about being alone for a while. As long as those kidnappers are around, I’m going to be with you until we find out who they are, and catch them.”

      A flash of pleasure warmed her, surprising her with its intensity. Willa tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal, that Griff was just doing her godfather, Ryan, a favor, but it didn’t matter. The thought of spending the next few days alone with Griff Fortune made her blood heat in her veins.

      But she wasn’t Griff’s type of woman, she reminded herself. Griff, she was sure, was interested in worldly, sophisticated women—the kind of women who traveled in the same circles as he did. Rumors in the Fortune family said Griff was some kind of secret agent. A man like that wouldn’t want to get involved with a quiet, homebody university professor like her.

      And a quiet university professor shouldn’t be interested in a man like Griff.

      The rebellious part of her, the part that wasn’t sure she liked being a university professor, yearned for the wildness of Griff’s life. The part of her that had loved traveling around the world, loved the adventure of life with her father, said Griff was exactly the kind of man she was interested in. But she ignored it. If she listened to that voice, it would be a betrayal of her father and everything he wanted for her.

      “We have a long ride ahead of us.” Griff’s voice came out of the darkness again. “And you had a rough night. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

      “It’s hard to sleep in a car,” she said. “I always wake up with a stiff neck.”

      “You can rest your head on my shoulder. That way I can check you frequently to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and relax.”

      “That would be uncomfortable for you.”

      “I’ll survive.” There was a grimness to his voice she didn’t understand. “One of us might as well get some sleep.”

      “I am a little tired,” she said, and she heard the weariness in her own voice.

      “Then come on, Blue. Close your eyes.”

      She curled up on the seat, adjusted her seat belt, and leaned against his shoulder. His muscles were tense and hard beneath her ear, and when she shifted around, she felt him tremble. But the rumble of the truck’s engine soothed her, and the warmth of Griff’s body surrounded her—she felt herself relaxing.

      “Why did you call me Blue?” she asked, her voice sleepy.

      “It’s an Australian nickname for someone with red hair.”

      His voice washed over her, and she snuggled closer. She felt him tense again, and then his hand stroked over her hair. “Go to sleep, Willa.”

      “Keep talking to me,” she said, tucking her hand under his arm. “Why do Australians call people with red hair ‘Blue’? That sounds kind of contrary.”

      “That’s because Australians are contrary.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Blue is also what we call an argument. I guess people think that redheads are more likely to get into arguments.”

      “I think that’s unfair. I’m very even tempered.”

      “Is that right?” He stroked her hair again, and she wanted to arch into his touch. “I’ll remember you said that next time you’re giving me grief over my protecting you.”

      She imagined that he touched her hair again, very lightly, and she thought his hand lingered on her head. She wanted to beg him not to stop, but she clamped her mouth firmly shut. It was the blow to the head, she told herself. It was making her want things she knew she couldn’t have. It made her yearn for what couldn’t be.

      Silence filled the car again. “Don’t stop talking,” she said, and her voice was drowsy with sleep. “I love to listen to you. Your accent is so musical.”

      “I don’t have an accent, mate,” he said, exaggerating his drawl. “It’s you Yanks who talk funny.”

      She smiled and allowed herself to drift to the place between sleep and wakefulness. “Tell me about your sister. I like her so much.”

      “She’s something, our Matilda is.” Willa heard the love mixed with resignation in his voice. “She’s a handful. It took me and all four of my brothers to keep an eye on her.”

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