Barbara Dunlop - His Convenient Virgin Bride

“That’s the Hollywood version.” He steered their course around the corner of the big barn, linking up with the path to her front porch. “I kicked out a windshield. I didn’t defuse a nuclear weapon.”

“You risked life and limb.”

“You know you tend to overdramatize, right?” He did what needed to be done, and only because he was the closest guy to the wreck.

And, quite frankly, it wasn’t fear of the fire and for Amber’s safety that had stuck with him. The worst moment had been that split second before he’d pulled Stephanie out of the way of the truck.

“You saved a woman’s life, and just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re working on some mundane report.”

“Correction. I’m trying to work on a mundane report. Do you maybe have a list or something?”

They’d arrived at the house and mounted the steps, heading in through the door.

Stephanie kicked off her muddy boots, socks and all. “I have a few scrapbooks down at the main house.”

“Can we pick them up tomorrow?”

“Sure.” She pulled the elastic from her ponytail and ran her fingers through her messy hair. The action highlighted its auburn shimmer, while the pose showed off the compact curves of her body.

It was a struggle not to stare. So, he moved further into the house to where his work was spread out on the dining room table. He dropped into a padded chair, reminding himself of where he’d left off.

“Alec?” she called, coming around the corner.

“Yes?”

When she didn’t answer, he couldn’t help but turn to look.

She’d stripped off her cotton work shirt and now wore a thin, washed-out T-shirt and a pair of soft blue jeans that hugged her curves. The jeans rode low, revealing a strip of soft, pale skin above the waistband. Her bare feet struck him as incredibly sexy as she padded across the hardwood floor.

“What is it about your past life that led you to rush into a burning vehicle while everybody else stood there and stared in horror?”

“Let it go.”

She might look soft and sweet, but the woman had the tenacity of a pit bull.

“I’m curious,” she told him.

“And I have work to do.”

“It’s not a normal thing, you know.”

“It’s a perfectly normal thing. A dozen guys out there would have done the same.”

Stephanie shook her head.

Alec rolled his eyes and turned back to his spreadsheet.

“Let me guess,” she carried on. “You were in the marines.”

“No.”

“The army?”

“Go away.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “It’s my house.”

“It’s my job.”

She pondered for a minute. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

He slid a quizzical gaze her way.

“Answer the question.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but if it would get her out of the room and off his wayward mind, he was game to give it a try. “I was in the Boy Scouts.”

She frowned. “That’s not it.”

“Visited dangerous cities?”

A shake of her head.

“Had the occasional bar fight? Never started one,” he felt compelled to point out.

She braced her hands on the back of a chair and pinned him with a pointed stare.

“You’re not leaving,” he noted.

“That’s all you’ve got?” she demanded.

“What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. Something out of the ordinary. Something that taught you how to deal with danger.”

“I grew up on the south side of Chicago.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I’m making that part up.”

“Was it in a dangerous part of town?” she asked, leaning forward, looking intrigued.

Alec liked the way her pose tightened her T-shirt against her body.

“Relatively,” he told her. Crime had been high. Fights had been frequent. He’d learned how to read people and avoid situations, and how to handle himself when things went bad.

Her voice went low and intimate, as if somebody might overhear them. “Were you like a gang member? In rumbles and things?”

He reflexively leaned closer, lowering his own voice. “No gang. I was raised by a single father, a Chicago cop with very high standards of behavior.” Not that Alec had ever been tempted to join a gang. But his father most certainly would have stopped him cold.

“Your father’s a police officer?”

Alec sat back. “Not anymore. He’s owner and CEO of Creighton Waverley Security.”

“So, you work for him?”

Alec shook his head. Work for his old man? Not in this lifetime. “I do occasional contract work for his company.”

“Like this?”

“This is a private arrangement between me and Ryder International.”

“There’s an edge to your voice.”

“That’s because you’re still asking questions.”

“Are you mad at me or your father?”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Do you?”

“I’m paid to ask questions.”

“Yeah?” The smile she gave him sent a rush of desire to every pulse point in his body. “I do it recreationally.”

They stared at each other in thickening silence, and he could hear the alarm bells warming up deep in the base of his brain. Both Royce and Jared were protective of their sister, and they would not take kindly to Alec making a pass at her.

Not that Alec would ever make a pass at a client.

He never had.

Of course, he’d never wanted to before, either.

So, maybe it wasn’t his high ethical standards that kept him on the straight and narrow. Maybe he’d simply never been presented with a client who had creamy skin, deep, cherry lips, perfectly rounded breasts and the wink of a navel that made him want to wrap his arms around her waist, drag her forward and press wet kisses against her stomach until she moaned in surrender.

A sudden rap on the door jolted him back to reality.

It couldn’t be Royce. He was still at the hospital. And Jared was in Chicago.

Stephanie hesitated but then turned from Alec and moved into the alcove off the living room to open the front door.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Wesley’s eager voice carried clearly across the room.

Of course.

The soon-to-be boyfriend.

Wasn’t that a nice dose of reality.

Brushing her teeth in the en suite bathroom, Stephanie couldn’t help but replay Alec’s rescue over and over in her mind.

In the moments after the crash, she’d been preoccupied with Amber’s safety. And then the helicopter arrived, and the tow truck, and the staff were all anxious and needing to talk. And later she’d been preoccupied with Alec.

But now she knew that Amber was safe. She was alone with her thoughts, and she found herself focusing on those seconds in Alec’s arms.

He was surprisingly strong, amazingly fast and obviously agile. His strength had given her a sense of security. Then later, while they’d argued, she’d felt a flare of something that was a whole lot more than security.

She couldn’t exactly put a name to it. But it was strong enough, that when Wesley had showed up, he’d seemed bland by comparison.

She spat the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed her mouth. As she replaced the toothbrush in the charger, she paused, gazing at herself in the mirror.

Attraction, she admitted, glancing at the door that led from the opposite side of the bathroom into the guest room where Alec was sleeping.

She was attracted to him.

She wanted it to be Wesley, but it was Alec.

She gritted her clean teeth, dragged a comb through her curls, braided them tight and snagged an elastic before heading back into her bedroom.

The window was wide, a cool breeze sliding down from the craggy peaks, while the horses blew and snorted in the fields below. Thoughts still on Alec, roving further into forbidden territory, she dropped her robe onto a chair and climbed between the crisp sheets. Her laundry was still behind, and she was prickly warm, so she’d gone with panties and an old tank top, soft as butter against her skin.

She closed her eyes, but nothing happened.

Well, nothing except an image of Alec appearing behind her eyelids.

When he first showed up, he was just a good-looking city guy. There were plenty of those in magazines and on television. And she’d never been particularly attracted to men based on looks alone.

But now she knew his business clothes masked solid muscles. Worse, she’d learned he had a quick mind and a whole lot of courage. And he’d likely saved her life-which was probably a classic aphrodisiac.

Whatever the cause, she could tell she wasn’t getting to sleep anytime soon.

She tossed off her comforter, letting the breeze cool her skin, staring out at the three-quarter moon, trying not to think about Alec in the next room. So close.

No. Not so close. So far.

It was fine for her to lay here and fantasize, she told herself. It was perfectly normal and perfectly natural. In real life, it needed to be Wesley, but here in the dark of night…

She flipped onto her stomach. Then she fluffed her pillow and searched for a comfortable position.

She couldn’t find one. She flipped back again, reaching for the water glass on her bedside table. It was empty.

Sighing in frustration, she clambered from the bed and crossed the carpet to the bathroom. Opening the door, she flicked on the light.

That exact moment, the door from Alec’s room swung open. They both froze under the revealing glare, staring at each other in shock. Her hormones burst to instant attention, and she nearly dropped the glass.

Alec’s chest was bare, the top button of his slacks undone. His hair was mussed, and his chin showed the shadow of a beard. As she’d guessed from his embrace, his shoulders were wide, his biceps bulged, and the pecs on his deep chest all but rippled under the light.

His gaze flicked down her body, stopping at her panties, and tension flicked in the corners of his mouth. “Is that from today?”

Her heart pushed hard against her ribs, knowing the skimpy outfit was very revealing.

“Did I hurt you?” he demanded.

And then she realized he wasn’t salivating over her bare legs, her skimpy top or the high-cut panties. His gaze had zeroed in on the bruise from where she’d fallen off Rosie-Jo.

She couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “It wasn’t you,” she assured him. “I fell off my horse.”

He took a step forward. “Have you seen a doctor?”

“It’s just a bruise.”

“It looks deep. Do you need some ice?”

I’m standing here nearly naked. “No.”

He moved closer still, and a hitch tightened in a band around her chest, while her hormones raced strategically around her body.

“It’ll take the swelling down,” he went on. “I can run to the kitchen and-”

“Alec!”

“What?”

“I’m standing here in my underwear.”

He blinked. “Right.” Then his eyes darkened to charcoal. “Right,” he said, his gaze skimming her from head to toe.

She wished she could tell what he was thinking, but his expression gave away nothing. After a long minute, he drew a breath. “Sorry.” He took a step back.

“Alec-”

He shook his head, holding up his palms. “Let’s just forget this ever happened.”

He was right, of course. But she couldn’t seem to stop the thick layer of disappointment that slid its way through her stomach. Did he not find her even remotely attractive?

She guessed not, since he hadn’t even noticed how she was dressed until she’d pointed it out.

He might have saved her life. He might care about her physical safety. But apparently it was in a purely platonic way.

“I wasn’t-” He took another backward step. “I didn’t-” He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Then he shot through the doorway to firmly click the door shut behind him.

Stephanie was sorry, too. But she suspected it was for an entirely different reason.

Alec spent the next few days working as fast as humanly possible and avoiding Stephanie as much as he could-which didn’t turn out to be difficult, since she was an early riser, and she worked long hours.

Keeping himself from thinking about her proved a considerably tougher challenge. The picture of her in her tank top and panties was permanently seared into his brain stem.

Her face had been scrubbed and shiny, not that she ever seemed to wear makeup. Her shoulders were smooth and lightly tanned, her breasts were perfectly shaped, barely disguised under the thin, white fabric of the well-worn top. Her legs were long and toned, accented by the triangular, flat lace insets of her panties. And her waist was nipped in, stomach flat and smooth.

It had taken all of his willpower not to surge across the tiny bathroom and drag her into his arms.