Cindy Gerard - Lone Star Knight

He couldn’t make it better though. And kissing her was out of the question. His job was to protect her. If he didn’t get her out of here soon, he wasn’t even going to manage that.

“May I?” he offered gently.

She stared through the windshield. Gave a clipped nod.

Her breath caught—he swore it did—when he twisted at the hip and leaned toward her. By sheer force of will, he kept his gaze from connecting with hers as he reached across her body for the seat-belt strap—and then he was the one struggling for an even breath as the soft whisper of hers feathered against his jaw.

Her generous breasts rose and fell beneath the silk of her blouse as he fumbled with the belt like a horny teenager before finally managing to buckle her in. In silence, he absorbed it all, the scent of her, the heat of her, and the pride that she was having a difficult time clinging to. Then there was the very obvious fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and his suspicion that something other than the mild March chill had caused the tips of her nipples to harden like tiny buttons and strain against soft gray silk.

He eased away, far too aware of the absence of all that delicious heat no longer snuggled against him. And way too willing to taste those full, lush lips.

Squared up behind the steering wheel, he thumbed back his hat, rolled his shoulders. Well. That was interesting. And stupid. There was no way he was going in that direction with her. For a lot of reasons. None of them having to do with how vulnerable she looked. Most of them having to do with lessons learned about high-maintenance women. Women who lived, breathed and required a lifestyle that was well within his means, but not within his disposition to provide.

Without a word, he shifted into first gear and eased out of the lot just as his cell phone rang. Relieved to have the diversion, he opened the console that ran between the bucket seats. Snagging the phone, he punched the button on the second ring.

“Walker.”

“Matt. It’s Greg. I take it you made it without incident?”

Matt let out a breath he’d probably been holding since he’d made the mistake of looking into eyes so blue it made him think of bluebonnets under a summer sky. Without incident? Not quite.

“Close enough.” He hooked a left turn at the corner of Market and Fifteenth. “We’re headed for Casa Royale now.”

“Sorry, but that’s got to be a negative. Once the troops figured out they’d been hoodwinked, they decided to divide and conquer. Half of them tore back into the hospital. The rest are following Anna and me to the ranch. You bring Helena here right now and they’ll hound her like a wolf pack.”

Matt swore under his breath.

“What is it?” Despite her attempt to conceal it, enough tension to string a guitar hummed through Helena’s breathless question. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced from the street to her face. If possible, those telling eyes of hers had grown bigger and more apprehensive. It was looks like those that made him forget why he didn’t want to get involved with her.

“It’s all right,” he assured her and returned his attention to Greg. “Okay. We regroup. Any ideas?”

“I don’t see too many options except the obvious. You’re going to have to take Helena to High Stakes for a few days until this settles down.”

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