Free When The Heart Beckons by Jill Gregory Page B

velvet lashes was
lying to him. He was sure of it.
    Roy Steele suppressed the urge to yank her
close and shake the truth out of her. The warmth and vibrance of
her seemed to reach out and grab him by the throat even from here,
even touching only her slender wrist between his fingers. If he
were to put his hands on her again, he might not be able to answer
for the consequences.
    He didn’t seize her, but he was rawly aware
of her pulse fluttering beneath his thumb. That delicate throbbing
seemed to exemplify her vulnerability, and as he felt it, and
stared into her innocently upturned face, something hot and
seething twisted inside his gut.
    Let it go
, he told himself.
What does it matter, if she’s lying or not? You’re leaving here
in the morning and going somewhere she’d never be able to follow.
Whatever underhanded scheme this beautiful little bitch might have,
it won’t matter anymore by tomorrow. You’ll never see her again.
Let it go. Let
her
go.
    For a moment he thought she could actually
read his thoughts, for she suddenly tugged her wrist free. To his
own surprise, he let her. He watched motionless as she began to
inch her way toward the door. In the sunset light that bathed
Lily’s lush room, her hair was the color of burnished pennies. What
would it look like if it wasn’t wound up so tight, he wondered, and
then coldly stopped himself from this line of thinking. He must be
going loco.
    “It’s obvious this arrangement isn’t going
to work out,” she was murmuring. “So I won’t disturb you further.
Please forget about my proposition, Mr. Steele. I’m sure I’ll find
some other protector who will respect the seriousness of my
situation ...”
    She really was something, he thought, his
eyes fixed intently on her as she edged ever closer to the door,
talking all the while. Lovely as a prairie flower, and she sure
looked innocent, but if there was one thing he had learned over the
years it was that few people, especially women, were quite what
they seemed.
    He let her get all the way to the door and
begin to open it before he moved. Then he lunged swiftly, shoving
the door shut and holding it there with one powerful shoulder.
    “Your name.”
    “I ... beg your pardon?”
    “I want to know your name.”
    “It’s ... Annabel ... Annabel
Brannigan.”
    “Well, Miss Annabel Brannigan, I don’t buy
your story. Not for one damned minute. But I’m going to let you
walk out of here in one piece under a certain condition.”
    “Mr. Steele, I feel I must tell you that you
are hands down the most rude and vile man it has ever been my
misfortune to meet ...”
    “More rude and vile than that scoundrel who
supposedly swindled you and tried to kill you?” he demanded
swiftly.
    Annabel caught her breath. “Second only to
him,” she flung out.
    “Do you want to hear the condition or
not?”
    “Do I have a choice?”
    “None at all.”
    “Well, then?” She stifled the impulse to
snipe at him further. Her only goal now was to escape Roy Steele’s
relentless questions and the confines of this room—and then to
somehow come up with a way she could continue tracking Brett’s
movements without attracting Steele’s notice.
    “Stay out of my way.” Steele’s eyes bored
into her. “I don’t want to see you sniffing around again like a
little dog looking for its master. Don’t trail me, don’t watch for
me, don’t ask about me—don’t even glance at me if I happen to run
into you again before I leave this two-bit town. Is that
clear?”
    She forced the words out from between
tightly clenched lips.
    “Perfectly.”
    He nodded, and opened the door for her. She
started toward it, but froze at his next words. “And one more
thing.”
    “What is it?”
    “If some hombre is really after you, go find
yourself a sheriff and get some help from the law. Men like me,
we’re not cut out to play nursemaid to little girls still wet
behind the ears. Next time, you could land in worse trouble than
the kind