Driven by Fire (Fire 2)

“You should be so lucky. I’m leaving you the moment I drop you on the bed.”

“Lucky?” she fired back. “You do have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you? I hate to tell you this but you’re not exactly my type.”

He said nothing, but she had the uneasy feeling he didn’t believe her. He was the enemy, she reminded herself. Nothing more and nothing less.

He carried her all the way to the third floor, all without the slightest sign of effort, and Jenny found herself wishing she could make herself heavier. Anything to derail her damnable reaction to him. By the time he kicked open the door, she was so steaming mad she didn’t bother to look around her. She was too busy thinking of biting things to say.

The problem was, none of her threats was viable. Her house was gone, and she’d never feel safe at a hotel. It didn’t matter how many houses her father owned, how much muscle he could command, the fact was she wouldn’t turn to him if she were dying. Especially after he’d gotten her involved in Billy’s debacle.

She could feel the cell phone lying heavily in her pocket—thank God Ryder hadn’t noticed. He’d paid far too much attention to the damned thing already. If he did she didn’t know what she would say—her planned excuse was that she never went anywhere without her cell phone. There were hundreds of thousands of people with the same addiction—it was entirely reasonable, even if she didn’t seem the type to have a New Orleans Saints case for it.

But she’d told him she’d replaced it. Big mistake, but she’d panicked. She should have said one was for business and one personal, but then he’d probably ask her something about the Saints and she’d be at a loss.

She hated the damned cell phone. Since the day she’d picked it up, she had spent every waking hour taking care of the kidnapped women and children, finding safe haven for them, trying to atone for her brother’s sins, because sins they were, even if

he hadn’t realized what he’d gotten into. She had barely slept, eaten just enough to ensure she didn’t lose the stubborn ten pounds that needed to be gone, and all her other clients had faded into the background. She needed her life back. Once she got Soledad settled she was going on a long vacation, and she would throw the damned phone into a volcano.

Ryder finally dropped her, and she landed hard on the bed, feeling herself settle into it, and she recognized the upscale mattress with appreciation. One thing in his favor.

He was already halfway to the door when she called after him: “You know how much I dislike you, don’t you?” It was unnecessary, and she knew it. The depressing truth was that she was trying to convince herself, when more and more she was drawn to him.

Her words stopped him cold. He turned, and he looked almost brutal in the shadowy light of the bedroom. He came back toward her, his walk direct and purposeful, and she found she’d edged away from him, farther up the bed.

It wasn’t far enough. He caught her chin in one hard hand, holding her still as his blue eyes blazed down into hers. “I’d be more than happy to demonstrate just how much you really hate me,” he said, his mouth hovering over hers, and she felt her entire body freeze and then melt into nothing but pure desire. He was going to kiss her. This man, her enemy, was going to kiss her, and she wanted him to. Desperately.

His mouth moved close. She could feel his warm breath against her lips, and instinctively she parted them. He moved in, they were almost touching, and she closed her eyes, ready to take it all in. Her heart was in her throat.

“Your pulses are racing, Ms. Parker.” His voice was silky. “Am I having an upsetting effect on you?” He didn’t move any closer, he didn’t move away. So close, and all her irritation abandoned her, so that all she could think of was how much she wanted him to kiss her, how much she wanted him to put his hands on her.

He moved closer, their lips almost touching, when she heard Soledad’s bright voice from the shadows beyond. “Oh, Ms. Parker, I was so worried about you!”

Ryder moved away from her slowly, with no sign of being caught in a compromising position, but Jenny knew her cheeks had flushed a deep red and she must look just like a child found with her hand in the cookie jar. She scooted up the bed, out of his way, and she summoned her brightest smile.

“I’m fine, Soledad.” She’d begged Soledad to call her Jenny a dozen times, but the young woman insisted on the tiresome Ms. Parker, making Jenny feel far older than her twenty-eight years. She’d given up trying, at least for now. Soledad had had a very sheltered upbringing, and certain formalities had been too deeply instilled. “Ryder got me out of the house before it blew up, and we’ve been at the doctor’s place all this time. Surely someone here must have told you I was all right.”

“They told me,” Soledad said, her eyes wide and anxious. “But that does not mean I trust them. I find that men will lie quite easily. But what about this doctor? Who was he? Why did he not come to the house?”

Jenny opened her mouth to speak when Ryder turned, interrupting her. “We have a number of doctors on retainer. Did you need to see someone?” His voice was surprisingly short, without the drawling, infuriating caress he used when speaking with her. It made no sense, but Jenny couldn’t rid herself of the notion that Ryder didn’t want her talking about Doc Gentry and the shack by the river.

Soledad’s expression made it clear that she considered Ryder one of those lying men. Her dislike was thinly veiled but genuine, which surprised Jenny. Even when he was being his most annoying self, Ryder was still an undeniably attractive man, with those piercing blue eyes, high cheekbones, and strong jaw. It was more than obvious that Soledad didn’t agree, and for some reason it made Jenny happy. She’d seen man after man fall at Soledad’s feet, and she’d prepared herself for Ryder to be equally besotted. Instead, their mutual antipathy was somehow cheering. If he could be wrong about Soledad, thinking the worst of her, then chances are he could be wrong about her.

Not that he was wrong. She just had to hope she could convince him that he was, or Billy would never be safe.

“There you are, my little dove!” A new voice murmured. “You keep running away from me.”

“Do a better job, Remy,” Ryder snapped, as one of the handsomest men Jenny had ever seen walked into the room. He was tall, with a sort of rumpled elegance and lazy stroll, with sun-streaked hair and the face of an angel.

She really must have a concussion, Jenny thought. This gorgeous man left her entirely unmoved, while the incalculable grump still sitting on the bed beside her made every inch of her body uncomfortably aware, her very skin tingling. If Ryder wasn’t such a threat he would be dangerously attractive. Dangerous because she didn’t want to be attracted to a man who solved things with guns. Dangerous because she suspected it was already too late. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She still wanted him to.

Remy ignored both the reprimand and Soledad as he came forward, a meltingly gorgeous smile on his face. “Pay no attention to him, Ms. Parker. Ryder’s been in a bad mood for weeks now, and no one can figure out why.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him while Ryder said nothing. “Afraid I can’t help you,” she said. “I only met him a few weeks ago.”

“Exactly,” Remy said obscurely. He turned back to Soledad, and there was a surprising note of steel beneath his charming voice. “Come along, chickadee. Your mentor has one hell of a headache, unless I miss my guess, and I think Ryder wants to be alone with her.”

At that Ryder got off the bed, and Jenny wanted to protest. She’d liked the weight of him beside her, almost touching her on the big bed. She must be brain-damaged. He was nothing but trouble as far as she was concerned, and he needed to go away quickly, before her brain melted further.

“Parker needs to get some sleep,” Ryder said. “I had to wake her up every hour to make sure she was all right. She must be exhausted.”