Wild Enough For Willa. Ann Major

“Thank you. But I don’t much like sharing a…a cage with a beast like you.”

      “I’m not a beast.”

      Her lack of gratitude, her refusal to admit her own shortcomings, her ability to see the worst in him—everything about her maddened him. But what really set him on edge was her standing there in the bathroom doorway in that robe, looking sexy as hell as she stared daggers through him.

      “Come out for God’s sakes. I won’t bite.”

      Shyly, she took a trembling step. “I have to go home.”

      “Not till I’m sure you’re okay…safe.”

      “You don’t care about my safety,” she said in that soft, knowing tone. “I know why you won’t let me go. What sort of games do you play, Mr. McKade, with your women?”

      His pulse accelerated. “I worked my ass off to sober you up. I fed you supper…breakfast.…”

      “You made me eat eggs. I don’t like eggs.”

      “How was I supposed to know that?”

      “I told you.”

      “For God’s sakes, I’m not running a short-order grill. I ordered eggs. I ate them myself.”

      “But you like eggs.”

      “You have the most illogical mind.”

      “Don’t say that.”

      As if she were remembering the other battles they’d fought, she stared past him, to the closet, to the skeleton key in the closet door. “You deliberately scared me.”

      “Relax. Forget that,” he growled, ashamed of that little episode.

      “You threatened to lock me in there.”

      “You ran out.”

      “Because you’re a big bully.”

      “Only sometimes…when pushed.”

      “All the time, I bet.”

      “I couldn’t let you run off drugged—”

      “Quit saying I was drugged.”

      “When you quit calling me a bully.” His heart darkened with a bitter memory. There was ice and yet pain, too, in his deep voice. “Where I come from…it was bully…or be bullied.” Why had he said that? Why had he betrayed himself to the likes of her?

      She lifted her chin, studied him. “I bet you were the biggest, baddest bully of all.”

      He glared. She chewed on her bottom lip, considering him with one of those intense glances that unsettled him and made him wonder what she might do next.

      They were in Little Red’s hotel suite. The room key had been in his brother’s wallet. Luke had brought her here on the thin chance his brother would show up…alive…and he could, thus, kill two birds with one stone.

      His brother’s suite had seemed as good a place as any to sober her up. Once, after pouring countless cup-fuls of coffee down her, when he’d been forcing her to pace the room with him, she’d panicked and broken out of the suite. He’d caught her in the hall, shoved her back inside, and pushed her into the closet. She’d pounded wildly on the door. He’d opened it and told her to be quiet, threatening to tie her up the way Baines had or gag her and lock her in the closet if she didn’t behave.

      She stared at the skeleton key in the lock of the closet door and went still.

      “My aunt used to lock me up…in the dark,” she said. “And tonight…” Her eyes filled with terror.

      “Difficult aunt.”

      “Oh, she was. She was a lot like you. She believed all people were for sale, too, especially women. She even saw marriage in that light. She was always saying, ‘It’s just as easy to marry a rich man as a poor man.”’

      “Every woman I know thinks like that.”

      “Not me. I believe in love, in chemistry, in magic—in excitement.” She snapped her fingers. “Or I used to. Till Brand.” Her voice dropped. “Till you.” Again her eyes held fear although she strove to talk about something else. “My aunt and I drove each other to distraction. But she taught me to read and to appreciate the fine arts. On the whole, she was a lot nicer than you.” She tried to smile. “And at least she was very well educated and way more honest about what she was up to than you are—McKade.”

      “Call me Luke.”

      “I’m not sure yet if I want to know you that well.”

      “You’re rude.”

      “Me, rude? That’s rich.”

      “Ungrateful too,” he accused.

      She seemed to make an effort to concentrate on what he was saying instead of on what she was so afraid of.

      “My aunt used to say I was a brat. And maybe I was…sometimes. I used to follow her when she didn’t know it. I was too curious about what went on.…There were the most fascinating rumors about her, you see. And I was way too lively just to accept what she said as gospel.” She was silent. “As if anything she could say would be gospel.” Her voice changed. “I am a brat by day…and brave…but by night…I’m afraid of the dark.”

      “You chose an odd line of work, considering that fear.”

      “Ha! You don’t listen any better than—”

      “And you’re afraid of me.”

      She shook her head. “Not of you…”

      She didn’t fool him. If she wasn’t afraid, why did she keep glancing from him to the bed? Why was she pressing herself against the wall?

      He advanced upon her, to prove his point. “Feel better after your bath?” he asked silkily.

      But she didn’t back away as he’d expected. “My brain still feels…weird.…Like the thoughts are drifting…not connecting.”

      “Why don’t you get some sleep then,” he suggested.

      “What will you do?”

      “Watch over you.”

      “Just watch?”

      “Disappointed?” he inquired softly.

      She blushed. “Do you ever stop with the sex talk?”

      “That might be hard…with you around. I can’t seem to forget I found you higher than a kite tied to a bed.” He picked up the red polka-dotted dress. “This little number was shrink-wrapped to your body.” He wadded it up and threw it at her. “What kind of girl wears black mesh hose and a dress like this two sizes too small?”

      Unfolding the suggestive garment, her eyes rounded. She jiggled the dress and made the flounces bounce. “Oh, my!”

      “Not much dress. Lots of girl,” he said.

      “It isn’t mine!” She threw it at him and stalked toward the bed away from him.

      “You were quite…fetching in it,” he taunted darkly.

      Another blush. She sank into a chair.

      “You want me to be some idiot you can fool with your fake blushes and little-girl smiles and sly glances.”

      “I know about you, too. You brought me here…because you thought I was that kind of girl. That’s why you won’t let me go. I wonder…If I did what you wanted, would you let me go then?”

      He stared at her, scared to the quick and yet darkly thrilled, too, by her tantalizing suggestion.

      She shut her eyes. “It’s all so extraordinary…like a bad dream.” Her hollow, fearful tone floated to him. “Brand