The Survivor. Rhonda Nelson

the second place, she was beautiful. Not mildly attractive or merely pretty.

      Bess Cantrell was beautiful.

      She had long wavy auburn hair and big green eyes that tilted upward at the corners, giving her an exotic edge. Curly lashes framed those compelling eyes, especially high cheekbones carved lovely hollows beneath them, and her nose was small and finely made. She had the clearest, smoothest skin he’d ever seen, and though he’d never understood the phrase “porcelain complexion,” he did now. The mouth that tied this all together was lush and bow-shaped and curled just so on the upper lip to make one think she was enjoying a bit of a private joke. At your expense.

      She was petite and very curvy, probably carrying more weight than was currently fashionable, but he’d never liked a scrawny girl. He’d always imagined sex with a so-called supermodel would be like bedding a praying mantis. Sorry, not for him. He preferred the soft womanly frame of the old Hollywood stars—the pinup girls circa WWII—and this girl would have been right at home on the nose of a B-52.

      The private joke he’d caught between his employers now made perfect sense and he felt his own lips twist with belated humor. A warning would have been nice, but wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable for them. Sneaky bastards. Perversely, he liked them even more now than he did before.

      Bess shook his hand, the small touch resonating to the soles of his feet, then leaned forward and spoke in conspiratorial undertones. “I hope I’m the lesser of two evils,” she said with a tiny significant jerk of her head toward the woman behind the counter. Her voice was light and musical with a husky finish that put him in mind of tangled sheets and naked skin.

      Hers specifically.

      Lex smiled. He wasn’t touching that loaded remark with a ten-foot pole. “Lex Sanborn,” he said. “With Ranger Security.”

      She nodded. “Bess Cantrell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze dropped down to his dog and her naturally pink tinted lips slid into a friendly grin. “And who is this?”

      “Honey,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought her along.”

      “Not at all,” she said. “She’s a pretty dog.” She dropped down to face Honey and held her hand out so that the animal could get a sniff. Honey looked up at him, evidently seeking approval, and, at his nod, she nosed Bess’s palm. The ice broken, Bess petted her head and scratched her behind the ears. “Ahhh,” she said, grinning at the animal. “You like that, do you? You’re a good girl.” She was completely at ease talking to the dog. Some people weren’t, which he thought was odd. He’d always found it easier to get along with animals than people, a fact he’d forgotten until he’d found Honey.

      Bess stood again and looked up at him. “So we’d better be going then?”

      He nodded, annoyed that she’d had to remind him and not the other way around. What the hell was wrong with him? It’s not like he’d never seen a beautiful woman. Not like he hadn’t been with more than a few actually. So what was it about this one that had made him forget himself already? What was it about this one that had his balls tightening and his chest in knots? After less than thirty seconds in her company?

      Bess went over and hugged the woman behind the counter. “I’ll check in often, Elsie, and call me if something important comes up.” She lingered purposely over the “important” part, leading him to believe that the bizarre Elsie was prone to contacting her about things that weren’t. Given what he’d observed in the minute he’d known Elsie, he could see where that would definitely have been the case. When she’d refused to release his hand and made the you’ve-come-close remark, he’d gotten the strangest sensation that the older woman had been peering directly into his brain, picking his secrets out, leaving him more than a little unnerved.

      His gaze slid to Bess once more and lingered over her ripe rear end. Most definitely the lesser of two evils, he thought.

      “Of course,” Elsie said with an innocent bat of her lashes.

      “And you’ll feed Severus for me?”

      “Every morning and afternoon to make sure that his blood sugar stays normal.” She snorted. “And cats are supposed to be low-maintenance pets.”

      Bess smiled gratefully at the older woman. “Thanks, Elsie. You’re a peach.” She turned to face him once again and then headed toward the door and picked up an overnight bag. “I’m ready when you are.”

      He hurried forward and took the bag from her hand, then opened the door for her, making the effort to remember that he was a gentleman and had been taught common courtesies.

      “I could have gotten that,” she said. “Believe me, I’m used to carrying things a lot heavier.”

      He imagined so. Nevertheless, he’d do the heavy lifting on this trip. He opened the car door for her and tried not to watch the way the denim clung to her luscious heart-shaped ass as she slipped into the passenger seat. Muttering a plea for self-restraint, he stored her bag in the back of the SUV next to his, then helped Honey into the backseat and unclipped her leash.

      “She’s going to hate me for riding shotgun, isn’t she?” Bess remarked, glancing back at his dog. He loved the way her hair curved along her sleek jaw, over her shoulders and around one breast. It was sexy and sensual and utterly effortless on her part, which naturally made it all the more appealing. His dick stirred behind his zipper, forcing him to shift into a more comfortable position. This was so not good, Lex thought as he slid the key into the ignition and started the car. He looked over his shoulder and then pulled out into traffic, belatedly realizing that he had no idea where they were going. In retrospect, he should have gone over that with her before leaving the store.

      Too late now.

      Not off to a very auspicious start, Lex thought, feeling more and more out of control.

      “She’ll be fine,” he said, finally answering her question about the dog. “Payne brought me up to speed on what is going on and mentioned that your thief has been moving from one address to the next closest. Is this correct?” There, he thought. That sounded semiprofessional.

      “It is,” she confirmed. She pulled a paper from a folder she’d had in her bag and consulted it for a moment. “Based on the address of the last incident he should be going down toward Waycross.”

      “Waycross?”

      “Yes, if he’s continuing to the next closest address. I figure he’ll stay within Georgia before going toward Mississippi, Tennessee or the Carolinas.”

      He felt his eyes widen. Good grief, he’d had no idea they could potentially be covering that kind of ground, much less that in her quest for junk she covered that kind of ground. Had Payne left that little tidbit out of the briefing? Lex wondered, or had he just missed it?

      “Have you alerted your clients in Waycross?” he asked, trying to quickly pull together a plan.

      “Client,” she corrected. “And yes I have. Gus has been put on alert, knows that I haven’t sent anyone as my representative and he doesn’t have anything remotely resembling the book. He’s armed, and if anyone comes up on his property and doesn’t heed him, they’re liable to get the shock of their lives.”

      “Sounds like this guy needs it,” Lex remarked with a grunt. “Have you had breakfast?”

      She blinked, seemingly confused by the sudden subject change. “Breakfast?”

      “First meal of the day,” he said. “From the late Middle English breakfast, meaning to break one’s fast.”

      “I know what it is,” she said, shooting him an exasperated smile. “But thanks for the etymology lesson all the same.”

      He couldn’t help it. It wasn’t enough to know what a word meant, he wanted to know where it had come from, as well. He was an avid crossword fan and he found that knowing a word’s origin often helped him figure things out. He’d picked the