“You seem a little confused,” he teased, leaning back against the counter and folding his arms across his chest which did nothing but accentuate the lean lines of his body and the bulging muscle.
“How tall are you?” I blurted, blushing as he chuckled.
“Last I checked I was about 6’4”. Why?”
Yeah, not really important. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
He seemed to find that sentence funny. “I’d have to say the same, darlin’.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. I opened and closed my mouth several times, completely stuck. When he was near, my brain turned to complete mush. Happened every single time.
“You can tell me anything you know,”
he whispered, pushing off the counter as he stepped closer. The heat of his body invaded my personal space as he stepped close. One finger tilted my chin up until our eyes met. “I need you to tell me something and I want the truth.”
“Alright.”
“Are you in love with your fiancé?”
Blinking, I was surprised that he asked. It was pretty bold. “No,” I answered truthfully.
“You gonna marry him?”
“No way,” I replied, my voice growing stronger. “Never.”
He frowned. “I don’t like the way you said that.” He lowered his head slightly. “Does he hurt you?”
Shit. This conversation took a turn in the wrong direction fast but at least I remembered what I needed to tell him now. “Yes.” R.J. stiffened as his jaw locked. “He’s dangerous. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Out with it, sweetheart.”
“His name is Maxwell Forman, the son of Barry Forman the wealthy businessman.”
“I know who that jackass is.”
Max’s reputation always preceded him.
“He took me to a club last night. A new one he wants to acquire. That’s not important. What you need to know is that Max met with a few bikers last night. I saw the name of their club.”
“Who?”
“Satan’s Outlaws.”
“You’re positive?”
“Yeah. They’re planning something. I’m certain of it. I don’t think their connection is good for Providence.”
“No,” he agreed, lifting a hand to cup my cheek. “You’re under my protection now, Cara. If Max tries to hurt you, I want you to get away and then call me immediately.”
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll do it,” he demanded gruffly. “Promise me.”
“Okay.”
“Good.”
Leaning into his touch, I wanted desperately to feel the affection of a man who desired me and not because he wanted to dominate or own me like a piece of property. “He’s taking me to a gala next weekend. The annual charity ball for Providence at the mayor’s mansion. He goes every year.”