“You can’t keep me here like a prisoner!” she shouted.
“No? Who’s going to stop me?” he challenged, relaxing somewhat now that he saw she posed no real threat.
She opened her mouth to offer a scathing reply, but no words came out. Who indeed would stop him? Unconsciously her shoulders slumped as she sighed heavily. Why was she fighting an immovable object? She could endure anything for one night. In the morning, he would call Houston, have her identity confirmed, her purpose for seeking out Kenneth Lyman explained to his satisfaction, and then she would never have to see this man again.
Lance Barrett watched Erin closely and could almost read the thoughts as they paraded across her mind. It was his job to discern what people were truly thinking, feeling, despite what they said, and he had been trained well.
Damn! She is a beautiful woman, he thought. When he had opened that door and seen her standing on the porch looking like something out of a fashion magazine, he felt as though he had been slugged in the belly by an iron fist. Of course, that initial impact had soon been put down and his professional caution had taken over. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
There was more to her than a beautiful, sexy package, though. She had gumption and brains. This was no cringing, cowering female whom he could usually reduce to jelly with one of his accusing stares. Erin O’Shea had defied him repeatedly. Hell, he had almost enjoyed their sparring.
He shouldn’t have kissed her. He’d get his ass kicked all the way back to Washington if anybody found out about that. And she was right. The way he had searched her had been unnecessary. Admit it, buddy, you just wanted to get your hands on her.
Hell, all a man had to do was look at her and he could see every curve and hollow of her compact body under that well-tailored, perfectly fitting suit. Dammit! It had cost more than he made in a week and that galled him.
He watched her now as she gnawed on her full bottom lip with small, straight, white teeth. The emotions played across her face like a graphic motion picture. She wasn’t any crook and he knew it. That story she had told him had been too fantastic to have been fabricated. If the truth were known, he could easily let her leave and send one of the boys out to keep an eye on her.
Then why didn’t he?
Lance had been trained to keep his face immobile and inscrutable. Therefore, Erin didn’t see any evidence of his thought pattern concerning her as she looked up at him. She decided to make the best of this horrendous situation.
“It seems I have no choice, Mr. Barrett. I’ll stay here until morning when I expect you to make whatever telephone calls are necessary to prove to yourself that what I’ve told you is the truth.”
“Your patriotic cooperation is commendable,” he taunted.
She stymied the compulsion to slap his confident, sardonic face and asked, “May I visit with Melanie? We haven’t even been properly introduced and she is my sister-in-law. This must be a dreadful time for her.”
“I don’t see any harm in that. I’ll send her in to you. For the time being, I’d rather you stay in this room.”
“I promise not to make a run for it.”
“Good.” He walked away from her.
So much for an attempt at humor, Erin thought dryly as she returned to the paneled room. The man wasn’t human. Ice water had replaced the blood in his veins. He must see every Clint Eastwood movie and pattern himself after the hard-nosed, super-macho man.
She had to give him credit for being thorough in his job. He was, after all, a government official with a very difficult chore to do. He must have had years of disciplined training. Now she understood why his eyes never seemed to miss anything. From the time he had opened the front door to her, she felt as though he had seen each movement she had made and read each thought.
She went toward the window and gazed out. She swallowed tightly. Hopefully, he hadn’t read all her thoughts. Some of them regarding him she would rather keep private.
Her heart had lurched when he informed her that she would be spending the night with him. Of course, that was only a figure of speech. That wasn’t what he meant. It had only sounded like that’s what he meant. Still, it would be costly to her self-esteem if he knew how drastically his choice of words had affected her.
A rosy blush stained her cheeks as she remembered that deep, breathless kiss in the kitchen. Her palms moved up to cup her hot cheeks when she recalled the way she had begun to respond to it before Melanie Lyman had fortunately interrupted. Even when she thought he was her brother, she had almost been guilty of returning his kiss. Had she ever been so instantaneously attracted to a man? Any man?
She looked down at the sparkling diamond mounted on the wide gold band around her finger and smiled ruefully. Bart wouldn’t appreciate her comparison of his kisses to Lance Barrett’s. The score would tilt in the latter’s favor.
Erin knew she was being unfair to Bart. Six months ago when he u
rged her to accept his engagement ring she had done so in order to silence his constant badgerings.
“Come on, honey. Wear it.”
“But, Bart—”
“I know, I know, sugar. You’re still hesitant to marry again. I promise not to pressure you for a wedding date, if only you’ll wear this engagement ring. Besides, if I take it back to the jewelers, it’ll be all over Houston tomorrow that Bart Stanton has been jilted.” He hung his large head in feigned supplication. As usual, she crumpled under his foolishness.
Laughing, she shoved his massive shoulder. “Oh, please. Spare me the theatrics. Thousands of women would stand in line for weeks, months, for the chance to wear an engagement ring from the legendary Bart Stanton.”
“But I only want one woman, sugar.” His voice had dropped the teasing banter, and he was serious. Erin knew he was. That was the complicating factor.