Название: Endangered Heiress
Автор: Barb Han
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Короткие любовные романы
Серия: Crisis: Cattle Barge
isbn: 9781474078887
isbn:
“Yes,” he said as he neared the vehicle.
The door to the driver’s side opened and she kept her hands in full view. The woman who stepped out was stunning. Her wheat-colored hair fell around her shoulders in shiny waves. Her body was just as curvy, and, hell...sexy. She had long legs attached to what he could only guess was a sweet round bottom from this angle. Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly, no doubt from adrenaline and fear. She had cornflower blue eyes that were clear and bright. A couple of freckles dotted her nose on otherwise flawless skin. And speaking of skin, her jeans fit like a second layer and were tucked inside red roper boots.
Her hands were in the surrender position and she didn’t bother to close her vehicle’s door. Good moves. He also noticed that there wasn’t a gold band on her ring finger. Didn’t always mean someone wasn’t married, but was a pretty good indicator. He lied to himself when he said the only reason he’d noticed was habit.
“What the hell was that?” he asked, ignoring his other thoughts—thoughts that had no business creeping in while he investigated a possible crime. Speaking of which, this whole scene had angry boyfriend written all over it.
“Thank you for helping me,” she said and her voice shook. She also had an almost imperceptible drawl. She was from Texas. “I have no idea what’s going on. This guy came out of nowhere aiming a gun at me.”
She looked completely rattled. Her eyes—eyes that were almost a perfect match to her convertible—were wild, and she had that desperate look he’d seen one too many times on victims and especially on Misty when...
Hudson refused to go over that again. Not even in his mind.
He could clearly see that this woman’s hands shook. And her eyes had that bewildered quality that victims often had when they didn’t see a crime coming.
Hudson believed her. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No.” She glanced around and his gaze dropped to her jean pockets for confirmation. A serious mistake in his opinion because stray voltage zapped him and a thunderclap of need followed, sizzling through him.
“Where are you headed?” He blew out a sharp breath. Those emotions had no business in this conversation. He’d call the sheriff, turn her over and get back to his day.
“I’m Madelyn Kensington, by the way,” she said, offering a handshake.
He took it, and did his level best not to notice the fact that her skin was as silky as it looked. “Hudson Dale.”
“What branch of law enforcement do you work in?” she asked, dropping her hands to her sides. He didn’t mind the move. There was no way she was carrying a weapon anywhere in those jeans.
Her question caught him off guard. “What makes you think I’m anything more than a rancher?”
She glanced at his legs. “Your posture. The way you hold that shotgun. You walk with your arms out a little, like you’re still wearing a holster, and your aim with that shotgun is pretty dead accurate.”
He put a hand up to stop her. “I’m no such thing. What kind of work do you do that makes you notice the way a man carries himself?”
“Me? I’m a reporter from Houston headed to the Butlers,” she said, and he was close enough to see her erratic heartbeat pound at the base of her neck.
The last thing Hudson needed was someone who knew how to do research nosing around in his business and especially his past. And there’d been plenty of journalists in the area following the death of Maverick Mike.
“Well, right now, Mrs. Kensington—”
“It’s Miss,” she corrected.
He gave a curt nod of acknowledgment even though an inappropriate reaction stirred in his chest.
“Is there any chance that white sedan belongs to your boyfriend?” he asked.
“I don’t have one, but I do have a persistent ex,” she admitted.
Why did relief wash over him when he heard those words? He’d noticed her ring finger a minute ago and tried not to care one way or the other when he didn’t see a gold band.
“The guy who just ran you off the road is getting away.” Hudson fished his cell out of his back pocket, keeping an eye on the reporter. “So, if you don’t mind, I need to make a call to the sheriff’s office and see if we can stop him before someone else gets hurt.”
“Yes, by all means,” she said, taking a step back and leaning a hip against the side of her trunk. She folded her arms and he noticed how the move pushed her breasts against the spring-green cotton shirt she wore. Calmer, her voice was as creamy and smooth as her skin.
Hudson forced his gaze away from the wheat-haired beauty. Getting involved with a woman like her was dangerous. Emotions had no place in an investigation. And he had no intention of repeating past mistakes.
Madelyn’s pulse hammered her ribs. Hudson Dale might look like a cowboy in those low-slung jeans, dark navy T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves and white Stetson, but something—call it reporter instincts and keen observation skills—told Madelyn that he was hiding something. Would that something put her in more danger?
The man had that law-enforcement swagger when he walked but hadn’t identified himself as such. He even sounded law enforcement when he’d instructed her to get out of the car with that commanding voice of his—a voice that traveled over her with an inappropriate sensual shiver that ran down her back.
When she’d outright asked, he denied ever working the job. She’d spent enough time around cops when she worked the crime beat early on in her career to recognize the voice of authority they used when they spoke to someone. This guy looked far too young to be retired. The man couldn’t be a day older than thirty-two, which was only two years older than Madelyn.
He was either undercover, or...
He could’ve been fired. Hiding. Why else would he move to the outskirts of a small town? Then again, maybe he just wanted peace and quiet.
Madelyn tried not to let her imagination run away with her. Either way, she was grateful that he’d been there to help when she needed it. Noticing the fact that the man was gorgeous couldn’t be helped. He was standing right in front of her. They were barely five feet apart, so it was easy to take note that he had the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen highlighted by sandy-blond hair and a dimpled chin. Her nerves were heightened and that was why her body was having an out-of-place reaction. She also tried to convince herself that the only reason she considered his rippled chest and muscled arms was basic survival instinct. On a primal level she needed to know that this man was strong enough to defend her should the white sedan come СКАЧАТЬ