The Dangerous Jacob Wilde - Page 35

“Only my pride. I took a course in tae kwon do years ago, when I first moved to New York. The instructor said I’d be able to fight off a mugger. Now it turns out I can’t fight off a cowboy.”

She was back. He had to admire her. She was one tough, resilient female.

“Nobody’s called me a cowboy in years.”

“Maybe that’s why I couldn’t fight you off.”

He laughed. And he paused, struggling to find the words that had to be said next. No way could she have missed what had happened when he was on top of her.

“Ah, about what happened. When I, ah, when I had you down …”

He paused again. She didn’t say anything. Heat flooded his face.

“I just want you to know that—that what happened wasn’t, uh, it wasn’t deliberate …”

“Did something happen?” she said coldly. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice.”

Wow. He hadn’t expected that. Okay. She figured it was payback time. He could deal with that.

“Well,” he said briskly, “if you’re sure you’re all right—”

“I’m fine.”

“Would you

like me to stay with you until you get to the house?”

She gave a snort of laughter.

He felt his face heat again, but not with embarrassment.

“You know,” he said carefully, “I don’t know what it’s like back East but around here, people accept apologies.”

“They accept them back East, too, but not from jerks.”

The muscle in his jaw fluttered. Enough, he thought grimly, and he turned away from her and strode to the truck.

“Captain?”

Jake looked around.

“Next time you decide to pay me a visit, just remember there are half a dozen real guns inside that house.”

“A little advice,” Jake said coldly. “Don’t threaten a man with a gun, real or otherwise, unless you’re prepared to face the consequences.”

“Advice is the last thing I need from the likes of you, Captain Wilde. You’ve got a nasty disposition, a hair-trigger temper and you’re so full of yourself that—”

Jake marched toward her.

“You want to talk about being full of yourself, lady, try explaining that outfit you wore tonight.”

Addison blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Black silk, cut low. Ice-pick heels.” Was he actually saying these things? He sounded like a fool but the words just kept coming. “You might as well have pinned on a sign that said, ‘Hello, Wilde’s Crossing. Ever seen the likes of me before?’“

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you finished?”

Tags: Sandra Marton Billionaire Romance
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