Free Protecting Tricia by Pamela Tyner Page B

wand in his hand, wanting very much to thrust
it right in his eye. He looked down and studied it.
    “One red line.” His lips curved up in a smile. “That’s a
negative.” Without warning, he leaned forward, wrapped a large, warm hand
around the nape of her neck, and planted a quick peck on her forehead.
“Congratulations.”
    Their gazes met, locked. His mouth hovered above hers. He
would only have to lean forward a few inches to close the gap and press his
lips against hers.
    Clint was an expert at the art of kissing. Long, sensuous
kisses that started slow and built in intensity until she was unable to form a
coherent thought. Kisses that left her feeling special, cherished.
    It’d been a long time since she’d experienced something like
that. And she could only imagine how much his technique must have improved over
the years. Unable to resist, she dropped her gaze to his mouth. She waited,
anticipated, wanted.
    His hand tightened the smallest degree on her neck, the
action prompting sanity to finally reacquire control of her brain. Dragging her
gaze away, she took a step back.
    Clint dropped his hand, expelled a shaky breath, and cleared
his throat. “Now we’ll have something to celebrate tonight.”
    “Tonight?” Her brows drew together in confusion.
    “Yep, when we go to Bushwhackers.”
    “Bushwhackers?”
    “Is something wrong with your hearing? Why are you repeating
everything I say?”
    “If you’d make sense when you speak, I wouldn’t be repeating
it.”
    “Tonight we’re going to Bushwhackers, which is a bar, to
hear Jack sing. You need to be ready to leave by seven.” He spoke slowly and
precisely, as if explaining something to a small child.
    “I’m not going out with you.”
    That would be dangerously close to a date. Her yearnings from mere minutes before confirmed that she needed to avoid contact with Clint.
In a social situation, where the atmosphere was relaxed and friendly, it might
be too easy to let her guard slip.
    “Suit yourself, but I said I’d be there, so I’m going. And
after your take me demand, David’s expecting to see you there too. If
you don’t show up, he’s going to be curious. He’ll probably ask questions. But
if it doesn’t worry you…”
    “I’m sure you’ll make an excuse for me.”
    “Don’t count on it.”
    He turned and headed down the hallway, leaving Tricia
scowling at his retreating back.
    I’m not going.
    Once Tricia heard the back door shut, she went into the
kitchen and poured a cup of coffee. She walked out onto the deck, dropped down
in a lawn chair, and fumed.
    She was not going. That was final. If David asked questions,
Clint would make some vague excuse for her. She was certain of it. He’d already
agreed not to tell David anything about her situation.
    Tricia frowned as she remembered the words he’d tacked on to
the end of that agreement— for now . He’d conveniently left himself room
to wiggle right out of the promise. And if he got a few beers in him, he just
might do it.
    Damn. I’m going.
    As she resigned herself to the notion of spending a night in
a social situation with Clint, an idea began to form in her mind. She might
have to go, but she certainly wouldn’t enjoy it. And if she didn’t enjoy it,
then why should Clint?
    * * * *
    The banging on the bathroom door didn’t faze Tricia in the
least. It was the third time it had occurred in the last five minutes, and she
was used to it by now. With each session, the pounding had grown louder. At
present, it was so insistent Tricia could swear she actually saw the door shake
on its hinges.
    “Come on, Tricia,” Clint yelled. “I need to take a shower.”
    “In a minute.”
    “A minute. Yeah, right.”
    She snapped the lid shut on her eye shadow container and
tossed it on the counter. Removing the top from a bottle of perfume, she
sprayed her wrist and her neck, then unbuttoned the top two buttons of her
blouse and squirted a generous portion on her cleavage. Not