Brazen. Carly Phillips

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      Before he could see any more, the three old men had surrounded her. Mac looked at the ceiling and rolled his eyes, then made his way around the bar. “For God’s sake, give the lady some air,” he shouted.

      The men scattered. And Mac got a firsthand look at the white tank top clinging to her round breasts with exact precision. Thanks to the cold night air, her nipples puckered against the otherwise loose fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. He had the insane desire to cup his hands over her breasts and warm the lady himself.

      He’d gone too damn long without sex if this bedraggled female turned him on. She stared from him to the group in the corner.

      “They don’t mean any harm.” He gestured to the three men ogling her without shame. He knew how they felt.

      “Thanks just the same,” she said in a husky voice that he’d like to think was sexy by design, but since she’d obviously taken a long hike in the dry desert, she’d probably swallowed more than her share of dust. “My car broke down,” she explained.

      “Have a seat and I’ll get you something cold to drink,” he said. “For your throat. Then you can pour your heart out to a friendly bartender.” After which maybe he could find a sweatshirt behind the bar to warm her up and cover her considerable charms. Before he acted on impulse rather than common sense.

      She lifted her gaze to his and obviously caught him staring at her chest. A pink flush rose to her cheeks, and she not-so-discreetly crossed her arms in front of her, blocking his view. Her awkward smile disarmed him at the same time he noticed her eyes. The impact sent a jolt of awareness sizzling through him. He’d never seen such an arresting color before, a unique combination of violet and indigo framed by dark lashes and pale skin. Skin marred only by streaks of mascara and what had to be dried tears.

      He found himself touched by the sight because this woman was real. Dirty, disheveled and so unlike the women who came to his resort to “rejuvenate” on a regular basis. In his world, a place far removed from the down-to-earth town of his youth, women viewed cosmetic and surgical artifice as the means to keeping their men. Natural beauty like this was too rare.

      For once, he looked out and saw someone in need of more than a loaded wallet. “I’ve got pretty broad shoulders,” he said when she remained silent.

      “I can see that.” Without warning, a smile caught the corners of her mouth and a sparkle settled in those eyes, which now openly appraised him from the top of his black baseball cap to the toes of his running shoes.

      Since Bear never required a dress code for employees or patrons of his small establishment, Mac always dressed comfortably. Very comfortably. Mac knew he looked grungy and liked it. Apparently, so did she. He liked that even more.

      “I’ve been walking for a while, and that seat you mentioned does sound awfully good.” She did a poor job of fluttering her lashes over makeup-smeared eyes. Damned if he wasn’t intrigued…and more than a little turned on. She took a step forward, yelped in what he assumed was pain and collapsed, sagging against him for support.

      “I’ve had women throw themselves at me before, but never like this.”

      “Maybe because they haven’t hiked over a mile in the desert on bare feet,” she retorted.

      Mac muttered a curse and swung her into his arms.

      “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She sounded outraged at his chivalry.

      “Helping you out, unless you’d like to attempt that step again…” He lowered his hands as if to lower her back down onto the floor.

      Soft hands curled around his neck, holding on with an iron grip. She was stronger than she looked.

      “Ready to admit you need help?”

      She nodded, then settled her body into his, so he felt the soft curve of her breast pressing into his chest and her firm behind nestling against his stomach. If he squirmed, he’d drop her, but ignoring the lingering sensations was damn near impossible.

      She tipped her head back and sighed. “My hero.”

      “Oh, brother.” Her hair brushed against his cheek. The scent of peaches clung to her skin despite her trek through the desert. His effort to block out the surge of sexual awareness that shot through him failed dismally.

      Mac deposited her in the nearest chair, then lifted her foot for inspection. He ran a finger along the cut and bruised arch. Her startled gaze met his.

      “I have antiseptic and gauze upstairs,” he said in a husky voice. Or at least, he knew Bear did. His friend had broken up many late-night brawls, and Mac had often hung around to help clean the place, and his pal, up afterward.

      “Upstairs?” she squeaked. Then she quickly cleared her throat and started over. “Upstairs where? A room? An apartment? What?” Her curiosity seemed to overtake her initial doubts and she peppered him with questions, growing more confident with each.

      “An apartment,” he said, amused.

      “With a shower?”

      He raised an eyebrow. “Shower and tub, why?”

      “Curiosity. And you live there?” she asked, now wide-eyed.

      “Yeah.” For the week, or as long as it took Bear to win his lady back. For reasons he didn’t want to inspect too closely, Mac decided against telling her that he was only helping out. It had been a long time since he’d been known and liked as plain Mac, separate and apart from Ryan Mackenzie, owner of The Resort.

      He’d be the first to admit his own mistakes contributed to the problem. Wealth had come to the Mackenzies when Mac had been too brash and arrogant to understand how people, namely women, would react. A single, rich resort owner was a prime catch, and he’d stupidly made himself a target for gold diggers and fortune hunters alike.

      Taking care of his mother and younger sister had forced him to realize his mistakes and grow up fast. The females in his family had relied on him for financial security and emotional backing. He couldn’t afford to let them down, and after his initial lapse in judgment, he hadn’t. Mac had trained himself to be wary, which was why he remained silent now.

      This woman’s vulnerability appealed to him, and he wanted a fresh read, a chance to be liked as an ordinary guy with no preconceived notions getting in the way.

      He glanced over. She sat fiddling with the top layer of her skirt. “Do you live alone?” she asked, this time without meeting his gaze.

      “Completely.”

      “Oh. Oh. Good.” A blush made its way through the dirt and makeup that stained her cheeks.

      From embarrassed to brazen and back again, he thought. “Good?”

      “For my feet.” She forced herself to stand on her own. “And my dignity. Do you think I could wash up?” she asked.

      He nodded. “While you’re at it, I’ll send a tow for the car and I’ll have one of the boys pick up your suitcases.”

      “The boys?”

      “They surrounded you when you first came in. Now they’re eyeballing you from across the room.”

      She grinned. “Oh, those boys. They drive?”

      “Not legally.”

      Her laughter filled the room and a few other places inside him he’d thought were frozen for good. “About those suitcases,” she said. “How do you know I have any?”

      “Sweetheart…” His gaze trailed over her shapely body and white skin. “Everything about you screams tourist.”

      He reached out to help her walk, but she shook her head.

      “I can do this.”

      “Okay, but I’m right behind you if you need any help. Up those stairs.” He pointed to the darkened hallway