Killian's Passion. Barbara McCauley

      “A beautiful woman walks out of your bathroom and I’m not supposed to notice?” Nick leaned on his cue stick and gave a snort of disbelief. “Besides, I had to pay attention. Lucas wasn’t there to share in the moment, and I figured he’d want details.”

      “Lucas has better things to do than listen to you yammer on about something that was nothing.” Ian moved around the table to break. They weren’t going to let this drop, he thought irritably. One more reason to dislike Miss Cara Sinclair.

      “I haven’t got anything better to do,” Lucas said. “Julianna went with Maggie for their final fittings on their dresses, and they took the twins.” Lucas grinned at Ian. “So she really called you honey?”

      Ian broke hard and the balls exploded against the table’s cushions. “Both of you can either put a sock in it and play pool, or I can leave and you two sweethearts can bat your eyes at each other and fantasize some more about my love life.”

      “He’s jealous because she recognized me,” Nick whispered loudly to Lucas. “She told me she’s a fan of mine, and that she thinks I’m amazing.”

      “That does it.” Ian threw his cue on the table, as annoyed with his friends as he was with himself for letting them get to him. “I’ve got better things to do than stand around here playing games with you girls.”

      “I’ll bet you do,” Nick said cheerfully. “And don’t worry, I’ll call before I stop by next time, lover boy.”

      Ian’s response was simple and earthy, and Nick merely laughed. Ian decided he’d let them get it out of their system without him around. He stomped out of the bar into the parking lot toward the truck Nick had loaned him to drive for the two weeks he was visiting. The pickup was old, the paint worn, but the engine had been rebuilt. From a stop light he could leave a Porsche behind, reading his license plate.

      He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, revved the engine, then spun dirt and gravel coming out of the parking lot. He enjoyed the power of the machine under his hands. She took the curves like a dream, and by the time he reached the main dirt road that led to the lake, he felt in control again. Something he hadn’t felt since that Sinclair woman walked out of his bathroom this afternoon.

      He pulled off the dirt road onto a long driveway, shut off the headlights and cut the engine as he neared the cabin.

      He needed one thing, and one thing only, from Miss Cara Sinclair—the truth. He wasn’t leaving until he got it.

       Three

      Cara washed her hair twice, then dumped half a bottle of conditioner on the tangled mess, letting it soak in while she scoured her body with a liquid raspberry gel squeezed into a puffy ball of nylon. Even a practical girl deserved a few luxuries, she thought, sighing with pleasure as the hot water rinsed away the grime and sweat of her afternoon encounter with Ian. She knew better than to let herself relax under the invigorating spray; as it was, she’d taken too much time already, and regretfully, couldn’t risk a long, leisurely shower. But even a few minutes was better than none, and at least she’d be clean.

      And she’d also be able to think straight again, something she’d had trouble with since her first tangle with Ian in the cattails. It still irked her that he’d surprised her as he had, that he’d sneaked up so quietly, so smoothly, and overpowered her. Her pride was wounded, true, but more than that, he’d piqued her curiosity. She couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was something amiss with the man, something that went well beneath the surface. And the more she thought about it, about him—which was constantly—the more curious she became.

      Still, she wasn’t here to be curious about Ian, she told herself, washing the last of the soapy suds from her skin. She’d come here to find him. The fact that he’d found her, as well, was inconvenient, but still didn’t change anything.

      Quickly she rinsed her hair, then turned off the water and grabbed one of the two white towels she’d tossed over the shower curtain bar. Bending at the waist, she wrapped her hair in the soft towel, then reached for the second one.

      It wasn’t there.

      She was reaching around the shower curtain to retrieve the fallen towel when it appeared in front of her face.

      “Looking for this?”

      Ian!

      With a small squeak, Cara snatched the towel from his hand while she darted back behind the shower curtain and covered herself. Damn, damn, damn! He’d gone through two locked doors. “Get out of here!”

      No reply. “Ian?” Still no response. After another long, silent moment, she peeked around the shower curtain. Arms folded, he stood with his back against the closed bathroom door. Steam swirled around his long, muscular body. He’d changed into a black T-shirt that stretched tight over his broad chest. His eyes were dark and narrowed as he met her gaze, and she swallowed hard. He looked like the devil himself.

      “Mr. Shawnessy, would you please remove yourself from this bathroom?” she asked tightly.

      He slowly raised one dark brow. “What happened to ‘honey’ and ‘darling’?”

      Since he obviously had the upper hand here, she’d humor him. For the moment, at least. “All right.” She sucked in a breath. “Darling, would you please get out of here?”

      He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. “No.”

      He was laughing at her! She could see the amusement in his eyes. The shower curtain twisted in her clenched fist. She’d murder him. As soon as she had some clothes on.

      “Ian,” she mewed sweetly through clenched teeth. “Honey, would you please leave this bathroom and wait for me in the living room while I get dressed?”

      Dropping his arms, he pushed away from the door and moved toward her. She swallowed the gasp in her throat, refusing to let him see her fear, but preparing herself to fight him off if necessary. She clutched the shower curtain tightly to her, but held his gaze as he moved in front of her. Her breath caught when he reached out and captured one long strand of hair that had escaped from under the towel on her head. His knuckles skimmed her shoulders while he gently rubbed the wet hair between his thumb and forefinger.

      He leaned close, and she felt his warm breath fan over her cheek. “Call me ‘sweetheart’, and I’ll leave.”

      He was playing a game with her, Cara knew that. And as much as she wanted to kill him for it, she also found it exciting, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She stood naked in the shower, with only a thin, plastic shower curtain and towel separating her from this stranger, a man she’d never laid eyes on until a few hours ago. Her heart pounded furiously; she could barely catch her breath. Her wet skin felt hot and tight.

      “Sweetheart,” she whispered, still refusing to break contact with his eyes.

      Immediately she wanted to snatch the single word back. The amusement she’d seen in his eyes only moments ago darkened to something else entirely. Something dangerous and primitive. It felt as if the tiny room were closing in on them. Steam swirled around their bodies like a wispy veil of desire. He still held her hair between his fingers, and she felt connected to him through the wet strands. When he brushed his knuckles over her collarbone, she shivered.

      “Tell me how you got out of those ropes,” he said softly.

      She kept her eyes steady, in spite of the fear slithering up her spine. “Are you going to tie me up again?”

      He smiled slowly. “Not unless you ask me to.”

      Frowning, she lifted her chin at him. “Don’t flatter yourself…I was the Houdini act in my neighborhood amateur talent show when I was growing up. My record for escape was two minutes, twenty-seven seconds. I won three