She jutted her chin out. “Do you think I can’t? That I’m too soft?”
His gaze roamed over her. Oh, yeah, she looked as though she’d be real soft. “Sometimes it’s better to cut your losses than get in way over your head and take a chance of getting hurt.”
“And will I get hurt?”
For a moment, he found himself lost in her eyes. Right now, the way the light and shadows played with them, they reminded him of the color of maple syrup: a soft golden brown.
He cleared his throat. Yeah, she was real good. “You might if you stay. The country can hold all kinds of dangers you’d never even think about.”
She stepped closer. Close enough he smelled her fragrance again, like a whispered caress.
“And what about you?” she said in that throaty voice again. “Are you dangerous?”
For a moment he couldn’t move, could only stare at her as she sucked him in. She brought her hand up and brushed her dark hair behind her ear. The only thing going through his mind was that he’d like to kiss her neck, nibble on her earlobe.
Now he knew why they called her The Barracuda. It wouldn’t take much for him to tell her everything she wanted to know. It was a good thing Jeff had warned him.
He leaned his hand against the wall above her head and moved in a little closer. Close enough that he saw her pupils dilate, saw the gold flecks in her eyes. “I’m only dangerous when someone crosses me,” he drawled.
She visibly swallowed.
“But then, you don’t have to worry about that,” he continued. “You’re only here to do a little research for your book.”
Nikki wet her lips. A hell of a turn-on. It was all Cal could do to push away from the wall, away from the heat emanating from her body, when all he wanted to do was press closer and feel her breasts pushing against his chest. But he managed to move away-just barely.
He walked down the steps to his pickup feeling as though he’d escaped with his life-at least the parts he wanted to keep private.
As he drove off, he glanced toward the cabin. She was going back inside. It was a damned shame he was about to make her regret ever thinking he was an easy target. Hell, he ate reporters for breakfast every morning, then spit them out.
Nikki turned back and glanced out the screen as Cal drove off. What had just happened? She’d used the ghost as an excuse to get him to linger-and it had worked. But not the way she’d planned. One minute she’d been the seducer, and in the next, Cal was making her forget the reason she was out here. She shook her head to clear it. Then she looked around the front room.
She was alone, and she hated this place. It was all she could do to keep from running back to the porch and out to her car. In a few hours, she could be in Fort Worth soaking in a hot tub in her apartment. All this would be a distant nightmare.
No, not all of it was a nightmare. Cal Braxton was a walking, talking, breathing fantasy come true.
She raised her chin. And he apparently thought she’d run at the first sign of trouble; she’d seen it in his eyes.
Okay, so maybe she had tried to run when she’d opened the cabinet and Bandit had stared back at her. Anyone would’ve done the same thing, so that didn’t really count.
But there was more to it. He didn’t seem to buy her act that she wanted to stay at the cabin. What was up with his attitude? It was almost as if he knew the real reason she was here.
She reached in her pocket and brought out her cell phone, but when she flipped it open, she read “no service.”
This wouldn’t do. Not at all. She didn’t like being disconnected from the outside world. Peace and quiet drove her insane. It was the hustle and bustle of the city all the way for her.
She stepped to the front porch and held the phone up. Still nothing. She went through the house to the back. The phone never wavered from its “no service” message. She stepped off the porch. The message blinked. She walked farther away from the house.
Service! Ha! She had service.
Her nose wrinkled. Ugh! She was standing beside the outhouse. She grimaced. This was not funny.
Thank God for speed dial. She held the phone to her ear after she punched in the number two and tried not to think how appropriate it was. Marge answered on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“He knows.”
“Nikki? You made it to the ranch okay. Good. I was starting to worry.”
“He knows I’m a reporter.”
“Did he tell you he knows?”
She frowned. “No, but he’s too happy I’ve chosen to stay in the cabin away from everyone else.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a sexy woman. Maybe he thinks he’ll get lucky.”
“But you should see this place.” A shiver ran down her spine. “It’s so isolated.”
“I’m confused. Won’t that make it easier to get the scoop on him? You won’t have a lot of pesky vacationers hanging about.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The cabin is a relic from the distant past,” she said between gritted teeth. “The toilet facilities consist of an outhouse, complete with a half-moon cutout, and I don’t even want to talk about how the odor could be used in bioterrorism. The only water is from a pump in the kitchen, and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have hot water. There’s not one microwave in sight, either.”
“So why did you choose to stay in the cabin? It sounds dreadful.”
Nikki drew in a deep breath. Ugh! Her eyes began to water. She rapidly blinked. She had a feeling her phone calls would be a lot shorter from now on.
“The cabin was the only thing available.”
“Well, you can’t stay there. I wouldn’t expect any of my reporters to live in those conditions, let alone a female.”
Her back stiffened. “What do you mean by that? I’ve worked the streets, stayed in some real dumps to get the story, and did a damned good job reporting the truth, too.”
“But you haven’t had to work the rough parts of the city in a long time. You’re out of practice, and really, what do you know about the country?”
“Damn it, Marge, you know I can do this. I won’t let a silly fluff story beat me.”
“If you think you can, then, by all means, stay. And Cal Braxton doesn’t know you’re a reporter. How could he? I haven’t told anyone-have you?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Of course I haven’t.”
“Then he doesn’t know. I have to rush out, Nikki. I have an important meeting I can’t miss. If it gets too awful, just turn around and come right back to the city. I won’t think badly of you for giving up.”
There was a distinctive click.
Give up? Give up! She didn’t think so. She never gave up.
She snapped her phone closed before it dawned on her that she’d been played. Marge had known she would never walk away from a challenge.
Great, just great. She looked up in time to see Bandit waddle out of the barn and toward a tree.
Maybe Marge had played her. It didn’t matter. She still wasn’t going to quit. She stomped back to the cabin.
Marge was right about one thing: Cal couldn’t possibly know she was a reporter. He wasn’t on the rebound, either, or he’d be flirting outrageously with her. There had been subtle nuances but nothing blatant. That Cynthia chick must’ve really done a number on him. At the moment, Cal didn’t seem too pleased with the female population. Damn, there went her wild nights of hot sex.
She paused halfway up the path from the outhouse. Was she giving up on the sex?
Cal was a hottie with all those bulging muscles. When she’d lunged herself at him after going eyeball to eyeball with the raccoon, she’d had the chance to get up close and personal with all those muscles, and they’d felt as good as they’d looked.
And damned if he hadn’t caused her pulse to race when he’d leaned close to her right before he’d walked to his pickup and left.