His Girl From Nowhere

“I’m not a very patient man, Ms. Bolton. Don’t make me wait too long.” Mike opened the door to his car and propped one foot on the floorboard.

Don’t make me wait too long.

A shiver went over her as her mind headed down a very different avenue. Had he said it that way on purpose? There was no indication he had, not even an embarrassed shifting of his glance away from hers. Just a cool, calm gaze that held hers far too long. How could the man wall off what had almost happened between them before Bethany’s session? She was still a mass of conflicting nerves and emotions. Her legs were shaking, and she felt like she was going to lose it at any second. Mike, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten...or maybe he hadn’t been getting ready to kiss her at all.

That thought was even more mortifying. Could her radar be that far off base?

Evidently it could. At least, with this man.

Ha! Just look at how far off base she’d been with Roger, a man capable of murdering someone in cold blood and then acting as if he were the injured party. Even his name had been fake.

Yeah? Well, so was hers now. Evidently aliases were all the rage.

As Mike folded his length into his car and pulled out of her lot in a cloud of dust, she gave a choked cough and noticed that Larry and Penny were both standing in the doorway of the barn, staring after the car. And Larry—the old coot—had the silliest grin imaginable on his grizzled face.

Oh, no. The last thing she needed was for them to get the wrong idea.

Because she was having enough trouble wrestling her own “ideas” back into place without giving them any more ammunition.

Ammunition.

Another shiver went through her, a little more wary this time as she remembered a few days ago—the way her fingers had clutched that hoof pick, palm sweaty, throat tight.

She’d thought she was going to die.

That’s what she needed to focus on. What could happen, if she wasn’t careful. What had already happened to the man who’d been sent to protect her a year ago. He’d died. All because of her.

Roger had almost killed her too, choking her on his desk in a jealous rage. Only her flailing hands had landed on a letter opener and she’d swung it round as hard as she could, stabbing him in the side. The FBI, alerted to the situation by their dying agent, had arrived in a hail of gunfire minutes later, arresting Roger and the rest of his minions.

Her ex had lived to stand trial, and he could still try to find her even now. He had the money and the contacts. The only thing she wasn’t sure of at this point was how hot his rage still burned.

And how far those flames were able to reach.

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