Free When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel by Dixie Lee Brown

old are you? Twenty-nine? Thirty? I’m twenty-four. I might be innocent, but I’m old enough to be kissed . . . I think. Although it’s been a long time. I might not remember how. Or maybe high school kisses don’t even count in the grown-up world.”
    “You’re kidding, right?” His eyes met hers and the sadness that swept across her face assured him it was true. How in the hell could that be?
    She released her hold on his shirt and tried to smooth out the wrinkles she’d made. As she ran her fingers down his chest, every muscle in his body tightened in response, and blood rushed to places he’d just as soon not have to deal with right now. His breath caught and he snatched her hands away more roughly than he’d intended. Holy hell. She was playing with fire. What she didn’t know was the fire was about to get away from him. His fingers encircled her wrists and held her when she tried to pull away. For a moment, he wanted to kiss her . . . more than anything he’d wanted in a long time. It wouldn’t be enough. He wouldn’t stop at just a kiss. Was it lust in her eyes? Or did fear quicken her breath and cause her chest to rise and fall in uneven gasps?
    He forced himself to breathe deeply, the chill night air cooling the fire in his blood. He wasn’t so much older than her in years, but in experience they were worlds apart. He was jaded and cynical. She was idealistic and innocent. His gaze met hers again as he released her wrists and got to his feet.
    “I’m thirty-three.” He turned toward the fire.
    “Oh, I understand your hesitation . . . you being over thirty and all.” Laughter burst from her lips even though she clamped a hand over her mouth in an effort to contain it.
    “I’ll get some more wood. You should sleep.” He escaped, grateful for the darkness beyond the campfire. Damn it. His body’s reaction to her had been swift and undeniable. It surprised him and he almost hadn’t caught himself in time. How a grown man kissed a woman probably wasn’t on his list of things to pass along to this girl. His boss would blow a gasket if he thought Walker sullied the cargo he was supposed to intercept.
    He drew in another deep breath and breathed out the last of the tension from his body. Now that he knew what to guard against, he could do this. Just do the job—get the girl someplace safe and turn her over to the U.S. marshals. He collected an armload of dry limbs and turned back toward the fire.
    Darcy didn’t move when he walked back into the camp or when he dropped his wood near the fire. Leaning back against the rock, his coat pulled up to her chin, she slept huddled within its folds, her neck bent at an angle that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. She was slender and petite, no more than five foot four. His coat hid everything else except her shapely legs. Her windblown hair fell about her face, now streaked with dirt, and her lips continued to hold that half smile as she slept. Earlier, right before the tree branch she swung connected with his head, he’d been mesmerized by her beautiful eyes. When she laughed a few minutes ago, dimples appeared in her cheeks. It was the tear tracks through the dirt on her face that undid him, though. The protectiveness surged to the forefront, followed by anger at the man who had put her in danger.
    He sat carefully beside her and tugged her toward him until her head again rested on his shoulder. She didn’t wake. The Scotch had evidently worked its magic, allowing her to forget the events of the day long enough to fall soundly asleep. She needed her rest.
    That Grant guy must have caught up with her and boarded the plane in Chicago. To put a hit on her so fast had to mean DeLuca was dead serious. Walker glanced at her as she slept peacefully against his chest. He tightened his arm around her as fierce possessiveness engulfed him. Then, shaking his head at his foolishness, he turned away and fixed his eyes on the fire. She was one hell of a strong