The Texan's Contested Claim. Katherine Garbera

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      She stomped on the accelerator and careened onto the highway, sending the rearend of the car fishtailing crazily.

      “Is he following us?” he asked.

      She looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the truck had indeed pulled onto the highway behind them. “I don’t know that he’s following us, but he is behind us.”

      “Speed up.”

      Though she wasn’t sure the rental she was driving could outrun the truck, she pressed down harder on the accelerator.

      “Is he still there?” he asked after a minute.

      She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Yeah. About four car-lengths behind.”

      “Faster.”

      She shot him a look. “Are you crazy? I’m already going thirty over the speed limit.”

      “So go fifty! Just lose him.”

      She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Uh-oh,” she murmured, and lifted her foot off the accelerator.

      “What are you doing?” he yelled. “I said speed up, not slow down!”

      “I don’t know what whirling red lights mean where you’re from,” she told him, “but in Texas, they mean pull over.”

      He sat up and looked out the rear window. “Ah, hell,” he groaned, then turned to scowl at her. “You might have told me the cops around here drive unmarked vehicles.”

      “And ruin your fun?” she said sweetly. She hit the button to lower the window and greeted the patrolman approaching the car. “Good morning, Officer.”

      He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “Morning, ma’am. Is there a reason you were driving forty-five miles per hour over the speed limit?”

      “Only one,” she replied, and hooked a thumb over her shoulder at Garrett. “Him.”

      Garrett hissed a breath between his teeth, then yanked off his sunglasses and leaned around Ali to look up at the policeman. “My fault entirely,” he said. “I didn’t realize you were a police officer.”

      “Ah,” the patrolman said, nodding. “So speeding’s all right, so long as the law isn’t around.”

      “No, no, no,” Garrett replied in frustration. “That’s not what I meant, at all. I was buying a newspaper and saw you watching me. I thought you’d recognized me, so I told Ali to lose you.”

      “Why don’t you dig yourself a little deeper?” Ali said under her breath.

      Garrett burned her with a look, then shifted his gaze to the police officer again. “I’m Garrett Miller,” he said, as if that explained everything.

      The officer looked at Ali. “What? Is he some kind of rock star or something?”

      Ali rolled her lips inward, to keep from laughing. “Uh. No, sir. He owns Future Concepts, a computer company.”

      When the officer’s expression remained blank, she looked over at Garrett and shrugged. “Your turn.”

      “It’s not funny,” Garrett snapped as he flopped down on the sofa.

      “No, it’s not,” Ali agreed, trying her best to hide her smile. “But if you could have seen your face when Officer Wilhelm told you to put your hands on the trunk of the car and spread ’em….” She sputtered a laugh, unable to help herself. “Now that was funny!”

      Scowling, he folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I’m glad you found it humorous. Being frisked like a common criminal certainly isn’t my idea of fun.”

      “I’d think you’d be relieved,” she said, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “You told him everything about yourself except your favorite color of underwear and he still didn’t have a clue who you were.”

      “No, but the dispatcher recognized my name.”

      “Which is all that saved you from taking a ride in the backseat of a patrol car,” she reminded him.

      “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

      She didn’t even try to hide her smile. “Uh-huh.”

      “Why?”

      “Honestly? Because I think you place way too much importance on yourself.”

      He lifted a brow. “Oh, really.”

      “Yes, really. You need to lighten up. Forget you’re a zillionaire for a while. Kick up your heels and have some fun for a change.”

      He snorted. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be me.”

      “Other than boring, no.”

      “Boring?” He pushed to his feet, his jaw clenched in anger. “Let me tell you what it’s like to be me,” he said, bearing down on her. “Money attracts people, including crazies and crooks. And unlike our friendly police officer this morning, most people recognize my name, if not my face, which causes problems for me. Because of my success, I haven’t been able to fly commercially in years. I can’t go to a movie theater or a restaurant, or anywhere for that matter, without drawing attention. If I do venture out to a highly publicized event, I’m forced to take a bodyguard along, just in case some lunatic decides to try to kidnap me for ransom.

      “And as for having fun,” he continued, “unless it can be boxed and delivered for me to enjoy in the privacy of my home, I can forget it. Going out in public is a freedom I lost the day I made my first million.”

      By the time he finished his tirade, he was standing nose to nose with Ali, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her mouth.

      “I—I had no idea,” she stammered.

      “Most people don’t. They envy my success, even try to emulate it, but they don’t know what success has cost me, what it would cost them if it was theirs.” Hiding a smile, he turned away. “But you’ll get a taste of it soon enough.”

      She tensed. “What do you mean?”

      “Our good friend Officer Wilhelm gave us his word he wouldn’t tell anyone about seeing me, but I’ll bet you money he tells someone. Or the dispatcher will. And if one of them does tell, you can expect the media to start arriving by morning.”

      Her eyes rounded. “Here?”

      “Here and anywhere we dare venture. Media hounds are like fleas on a dog. Irritating as hell and all but impossible to get rid of.”

      * * *

      Ali paced the living room, stealing an occasional peek through the blinds she’d closed. So far, so good, she thought. Not a person or a car in sight.

      Confident that Officer Wilhelm had been true to his word—or Garrett had exaggerated СКАЧАТЬ