Secretly Yours Read online

  “Just who is your father, anyway?”

  She seemed to be debating whether or not to reply when a knock interrupted them. Motioning for her to stay put, Trent went to the door. Wade stood on the other side, wearing a wry smile and holding a half-grown, shivering yellow mutt of indeterminate parentage. Behind him, the patrol car was backing out of the driveway.

  “I found this guy hiding in the bushes at the back of the house,” Wade drawled, looking at the dog draped over his arms.

  Annie had stepped close to Trent’s side, staring at the beast. “A dog? All that noise was made by a dog?”

  “We saw what might have been some footprints in that muddy patch by the back door, but there’s no way to tell when they were made,” Wade said almost apologetically.

  “Could’ve been mine,” Trent said. “I’ve been doing some work back there the past few days.”

  “Could have been,” Wade acknowledged.

  The dog whined in Wade’s arms. Trent couldn’t help smiling a little as he looked at the mutt. A muddy yellow, it was still barely more than a pup, all ears and feet and tail. It was going to be a good-size dog when it was grown, he figured, eyeing one big paw. Looked as though it could use something to eat.

  “Any idea who this guy belongs to, Ms. Stewart?” Wade asked.

  She shook her head, reaching out tentatively to stroke the dog’s broad head. His tail thumped against Wade’s shoulder in reaction. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Most likely a stray. I’ll take him to the pound on the way home.”

  “He can stay here,” Annie surprised Trent by saying. “I’ll put an ad in the Honoria Gazette and keep him here until someone claims him.”

  “And what if no one claims him?” Trent asked.

  “Then I’ll keep him. I could use a dog—for protection,” she added.

  The mutt whimpered and nervously licked her hand.

  Wade grinned. “Oh, yeah, I can see he’ll be a fierce protector.”

  “Someone will probably claim him,” she murmured, scratching one floppy ear.

  “More likely he’s a stray,” Trent said, already resigned to helping her build a fence for her new pet. “Where’s he going to sleep tonight?”

  “In the laundry room? It has a drain in the floor, so if he—er—”

  “Which he undoubtedly will,” Wade murmured.

  “Anyway, he can sleep in there until I come up with better arrangements for him.”

  “Lead the way to the laundry room and I’ll carry your pal,” Wade offered.

  “I’ll show you where to put him,” Trent said. “Annie, why don’t you get the dog some food and water.”

  He led Wade to the laundry room, a no-frills, concrete-floored cubicle just off the kitchen. Wade set the dog on the floor, then patted it reassuringly. “Nervous fellow, isn’t he? He hasn’t stopped shivering since I found him behind that bush.”

  “And Annie wants to keep him for protection. Wonder who will be protecting whom?”

  “I heard you’ve been seeing her.”

  “I’m not seeing her,” Trent corrected coolly. “We’re friends, that’s all. She cleans for me and I do some handiwork for her.”

  “I see.” Rubbing the dog’s ears, Wade looked as though he was trying not to smile.

  Annie joined them, carefully balancing two bowls. “I brought food and water. I don’t have dog food, of course, but I cut up some left-over roast beef and heated it in gravy in the microwave.”

  Wade chuckled. “He should like that. Now, I’d better go so you can put this guy to bed.”

  Trent wondered if Annie’s cheeks were suddenly pinker than they had been a few moments before. He couldn’t be sure because she seemed to be carefully avoiding his eyes. “I’ll walk you out,” he suggested to Wade, since Annie looked totally absorbed in watching the dog wolf down the roast beef.

  She looked up to offer Wade one of the shy smiles that always tightened Trent’s stomach. “Thank you so much for coming, Chief Davenport. I’m sorry you were disturbed in the middle of the night for something as silly as a stray dog.”

  He shook his head. “You did exactly the right thing, Ms. Stewart. Don’t hesitate to call me or my officers anytime you need us, you hear?”

  Trent walked Wade to the front door and stepped with him onto the front porch. “You’re sure your guys didn’t find anything?”

  “Just the footprints I told you about—and as we’ve agreed, they could belong to anyone.”

  “There’s something I think you should know, Wade. Annie probably doesn’t want to mention it, but it’s been bugging me all evening.” Using few words, he told Wade about the dark car that Annie had spotted earlier. And then he added that Annie thought she’d seen the same vehicle before, and where.

  Wade’s first reaction was the same as Trent’s had been. He wanted to know if Annie had any reason to believe someone was following her. Trent told him what little Annie had let him know—that her father was angry with her for moving here and was the only person she could think of who would have any interest at all in her activities.

  “But she seemed to sincerely doubt her father is involved,” he added, to be precise.

  “I’ll have the patrol car come by every so often just to be on the safe side.”

  “Thanks, Wade.”

  “Tell your lady to be careful.”

  “Yeah, I—damn it, Wade, stop that,” Trent growled as the wording sank in. “Annie and I are just friends.”

  All he needed, he thought in irritation, was for Wade to start implying things about Annie and him to Emily, who would probably say something to Jamie or Tara. Then word would get back to his mother, who’d immediately start planning a wedding. Couldn’t a guy have a woman for a friend without everyone making something more of it?

  “Smart-ass cop,” he muttered as he went back inside to make sure Annie was okay before he headed home.

  He found her sitting cross-legged on the laundry-room floor, the dog’s head on her lap. The mutt wore a blissfully goofy look on its homely face—but Trent suspected uncomfortably that he might look much the same way if Annie was holding and petting him like that. “I think you’ve made a friend.”

  She glanced up at him. “I feel like such a fool.”

  “Why?”

  “All that panic and excitement—all because of a stray dog.”

  “I didn’t notice any panic—and I wasn’t particularly excited.”

  “Which is why you dashed over here looking as though you just rolled out of bed,” she said wryly.

  He knelt beside her, making a pretense of studying the dog. “I did just roll out of bed. But I wasn’t excited,” he lied easily. “Just curious.”

  “Right.”

  For some reason, no one seemed to believe him tonight. “Bozo there had probably better go out for a few minutes before you lock him up for the night,” he said to change the subject.

  “Bozo?”

  “In honor of those big feet. I’ll take him out while you find an old blanket or towel or something for him to sleep on. Tomorrow, I’ll help you put up a pen or a fence or something to keep him in. That’s the only way you can make sure he won’t wander off or get hurt.”

  She nodded. “If I keep him—which I intend to do if no one claims him—I’ll be a responsible owner. I’ll have him neutered and inoculated and make sure he has a safe place to stay. I don’t believe in letting pets run loose. Too many get lost or hit by cars because their owners wouldn’t take responsibility for them.”

  Rather amused by her attitude, Trent suspected she was babbling to keep her mind off the fear she’d felt earlier. “I’m sure you’ll give this mutt a fine home. You have a rope or something I can use for a leash?” He doubted he could carry the gangly dog as easily as Wade had.

  It wasn’t particularly easy, but half an hour later Bozo had been bedded down and Trent and Annie were alone in the living room. He knew he should leave—God only knew what time it was, since he’
d forgotten to put on his watch—but Annie still looked too pale for his peace of mind. “You should get some sleep,” he advised her. “You’re obviously exhausted.”

  “Yes.” She twisted her hands in front of her and looked doubtful.

  “Are you afraid you won’t be able to sleep?”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Unconvinced, Trent pictured her lying wide-eyed in bed, starting at every sound. “I’ll take the couch,” he said gruffly, making an impulsive decision. “Got an extra pillow?”

  She looked startled. “You’re going to sleep on my couch? Trent, that really isn’t necessary.”

  He shrugged. “I’m tired. I can rest a few hours here and then head home in the morning. I’ve slept on your couch before, you know.”

  “And you barely fit on it,” she retorted, a bit of her usual spirit returning.

  “I fit well enough.” He didn’t even want to think about how his back would feel after a night on the cramped sofa, but he couldn’t leave her here alone and scared. He wasn’t trying to be a hero, he assured himself. He just thought she needed a friend right now—and wasn’t that what he’d tried to convince Wade, and himself, that he was?

  She shook her head. “There’s no need for you to sleep on my couch, Trent. I appreciate the offer. It’s very—”

  He gave her a warning look and she quickly amended the statement to exclude the word he disliked. “It’s very generous of you to offer,” she said, “but I’ll be fine alone.”

  She was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met—with the exception of his mother, of course. Couldn’t even let a guy do something nice for her without arguing. Losing patience, he dropped his hands on her shoulders and put his face close to hers. “Annie—”

  She swallowed. “Yes?”

  “Shut up and go to bed. I’ll be in here if you need me.”

  He watched her hesitate a moment longer, obviously torn between pride and anxiety, and then she nodded. “All right. But if you stay, you’ll take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s long enough for me.”

  “No. I—”

  “Trent.” This time it was Annie who sounded out of patience. “Just shut up and go to bed, will you?”

  He might have smiled, had she not been standing so very close, looking soft and rumpled and vulnerable. It suddenly occurred to him that he had just made a huge mistake. Spending the night here—in her bed, no less? Had he completely lost his mind?

  9

  ANNIE HAD BEEN on the living-room couch less than twenty minutes when she conceded that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep. It had little to do with the occasional whine from the laundry room, but everything to do with the silence coming from her bedroom.

  She kept picturing Trent in her bed, only a few yards from where she lay. He’d been so determined to stay. He had obviously seen how frightened she’d been when she’d thought someone was trying to break in. She winced when she remembered the foolishly female thrill she’d felt at having him rush to her rescue, looking so strong and masculine and protective. She’d felt so safe when he’d wrapped her in his arms, even though the police had already arrived.

  This was no way, she thought with a scowl, to convince him—or herself—that she was capable of taking care of herself.

  She would have to reassure him tomorrow that she wasn’t afraid of living alone. She’d spent a few restless nights when she’d first moved here, but that was understandable since it had been her first time on her own. It had taken a little adjustment, especially considering that her first home creaked and groaned and rattled, but she’d adapted well, she thought. Tonight was the first time she had been truly afraid.

  Apparently, she’d been more shaken than she’d realized by the appearance of that car again near the law firm. Both times she’d seen it, the driver had acted oddly, parking in out-of-the-way places and then driving away after being noticed. She still believed it had to be coincidence—what else could it be? She shouldn’t have mentioned it to Trent. It was probably just his overreaction that had unsettled her. But she’d been thinking about that car when she’d heard the noises outside her house.

  All that fuss over a stray dog, she thought with another ripple of embarrassment.

  Unable to lie still any longer, she tossed off her blanket, swung her bare feet to the floor and sat up. Maybe she should go talk to Bozo. They could whine together.

  The bedroom door suddenly opened. Wearing only jeans, Trent leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest. The living room was dark, so he was silhouetted against the light coming from the lamp in the bedroom behind him. She could see him—and his bare chest—well enough to have to swallow hard in reaction.

  “Are you still nervous or just uncomfortable?” he asked.

  Although she couldn’t sleep, she hadn’t been particularly nervous or uncomfortable until Trent had appeared half-naked in front of her. Now her mouth was dry, her palms were damp, and her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to function. Talk about overreacting!

  She cleared her throat, forcing her voice out past a sizable lump. “I’m fine. I hope I’m not keeping you awake.”

  He moved away from the door, taking a couple of steps toward her. “As a matter of fact, you are.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quieter.”

  “Wouldn’t make any difference.” He stood beside the couch, almost close enough for her to reach out and touch him. She had to curl her fingers inward to keep from doing just that.

  Annie was neither slow nor naive. She knew exactly what was keeping Trent awake. She stared up at him, debating her choices—and the consequences. Just how much risk was she willing to take to be with Trent tonight?

  “I can’t sleep, either,” she said after a moment. “And it has nothing to do with what happened earlier.”

  His eyes locked with hers when he sank to the couch beside her. He wasn’t wearing his glasses, she realized. It was only the second time she had seen him without them. For some strange reason, that seemed almost as intimate as seeing him without his shirt.

  He reached out to brush back her hair, the gesture a familiar one by now. His voice was a deep, sexy rumble in the shadows. “You should have sent me home.”

  “I did try,” she reminded him. And then she smiled wryly. “Just not very hard.”

  He traced her ear with one fingertip. “It’s not too late.”

  Placing her hands on his warm, bare chest, she felt his muscles tighten in reaction. She felt the shock of contact run through her entire body, centering deep in her abdomen. “I think it is too late,” she murmured. Perhaps it had been too late since the first time she had seen him.

  He cupped her face between his hands and scowled at her—so typical of Trent, even when he was seducing her. “You should be running as far away from me as you can get, Annie. I’m a mess—in a lot of ways.”

  Her eyes had drifted downward, studying his chest in the dim light. She saw his scars, but they bothered her only because of the pain and loss they represented. She knew he carried baggage, but so did she. “That doesn’t seem to matter.”

  His frown had deepened, but she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her. “I can’t even carry you to bed,” he muttered, frustration in his tone.

  Her decision made—for reasons she would think about later—she stood and held out her hand to him. “I don’t want to be carried,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady. “These days, I prefer to stand on my own feet.”

  He rose and took her hand, his grip almost painfully tight. They walked side by side to her bedroom. Annie wondered if he could hear her heart hammering against her chest. It seemed so loud to her.

  Trent turned off the lamp beside the bed, so that the only light in the room filtered in through the sheer curtains at the windows. Washed of color and contrast, the room seemed suddenly smaller. Dreamlike.

  Just to reassure herself that she really was awake, Annie reached out to touch Trent’s face. He felt so very real.
His cheek was hot with emotion, taut with need.

  Suddenly she was certain she’d made the right choice. She knew exactly how to get past his momentary hesitation. Imitating his characteristic move, she cupped his face between her hands and rose on tiptoe to kiss him.

  Perhaps he had only been waiting for a sign that she hadn’t changed her mind. The moment her lips touched his, he moved, sinking to the bed, tugging her down with him. She landed on top of him, and worried for a moment about his back. But when his hands began to move over her, she couldn’t focus on anything except his touch.

  He was a big boy, she told herself, running her hands slowly across his broad, solid chest. He could take care of himself.

  He let his fingers trail down her back, from her shoulders to the curve of her bottom. She could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of her pajamas. His grip tightened and she shifted instinctively, moving against the erection straining against his jeans. The lower half of her body seemed to go liquid in response, her legs settling on either side of him.

  Still feeling deliciously bold, she followed his lead, letting her hands wander over his hot, sleek skin. She didn’t know if he’d turned off the lamp for atmosphere or because he was self-conscious about his scars, but she couldn’t imagine finding him anything but beautiful.

  His beastly moods had occasionally provoked her, but they had never fooled her. For reasons even she couldn’t fully understand, she had fallen hard and fast for Trent McBride. She couldn’t guarantee a happy ending for them—for all she knew, tonight would be both the beginning and the end of their tempestuous affair—but Trent’s kisses had given her every reason to believe that this night would be the most spectacular experience of her life.

  And wasn’t that the reason she had come to Honoria? To lead a life that was completely different from the unsatisfying existence she had known before? Hadn’t she wanted to discover who Annie Stewart really was? What she really wanted?

  Tonight she wanted Trent.

  He nipped at the skin at the base of her throat and she arched her neck, her fingers buried in his luxuriously thick golden hair. With slow, openmouthed kisses, he worked his way from her chin to the deep V of her pajama top. Her breath caught in her throat when his right hand made a leisurely foray from her hip to her left breast, kneading with a gentle, rhythmic motion that soon had her squirming in pleasure. If he could make her feel this good through her clothes, she wasn’t sure she would survive once he’d removed them, she thought dazedly.