Guarding Grayson Read online

  And the way she’d been eating, she’d already put on a few needed pounds, so her curves were more pronounced. Her hair was in a sexy tousle that bared the lobes of her ears and the tender curve of her throat. She looked … lickable. Bitable.

  She wore little turquoise gladiator sandals that bared her toes and rose in narrow straps around her ankles, and carried a matching wrap.

  “You need to put that on,” he said, gesturing at the wrap.

  She scowled at him, her cheeks flushing, and Gray realized it had sounded more like an order. But he set his jaw. He was in the right here. She’d have every man in the Kokopelli drooling down her cleavage, and wanting to get their sweaty hands on her.

  “Maybe you should just wear your dark glasses,” she told him, tossing her head. “That way, you won’t have to be offended by my attire—which by the way, is perfectly okay. Bebe Baldwin wore a dress cut lower than this to the awards, and she’s much bigger on top than I am.”

  The actress could show up on the red carpet nude for all he cared. “Yeah, well, she’s not you.”

  Brynne’s scowl deepened—although she looked just as pretty with that line between her delicate brows. “I know I’m not a movie star, Gray. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  “What? No, that’s not what I meant. You look … fine.”

  He’d stepped in it now. How did that always happen with women? Brynne didn’t want him thinking about sex with her, so he wasn’t going to tell her she looked edible, that the dress made a man long for it to slide a little more to the side up top, and for the bottom to flip up in a sudden breeze. Her long legs were just as pretty as ever.

  And, even more than her appearance, her back-talk and feisty glare turned him on.

  He turned on his heel, jingling his car keys in one hand. “C’mon, if you’re coming with me, let’s go.”

  Maybe if he got around other people, he could quell the urge to grab her and show her without words exactly how much he liked the way she looked.

  The Kokopelli sat just off Main Street in downtown Magic, between a touristy shop and a coffee bar, both closed in the evening. The street was lined with cars and pickup trucks. The front doors were wide open to the July evening, the beat of a Los Lonely Boys dance tune drifting out, along with voices, laughter and the clack of balls from pool tables.

  Gray walked around to open Brynne’s door. She tossed her head, speaking for the first time since they’d walked out to his rental car.

  “Don’t feel you need to stay with me,” she said. “If you meet someone, I’m sure I can find a ride home.”

  “Great,” he said, rolling his jaw to loosen it. “Good to know I’m free to enjoy myself. Knock yourself out, babe.”

  He followed her inside the place, decorated in southwest style with graphics of the kokopelli, a hump-backed flute player with what looked like antlers protruding from his head, and some decent prints of local scenery.

  Gray watched from the corner of his eye as Brynne sauntered gracefully through the crowded tables to the bar, slipping up onto a stool between a cowboy and a skinny young guy playing with his phone.

  Phone dude wouldn’t be a problem, but Gray would keep a close eye on the cowboy, who would not be saddling up any little blondes tonight. Although he might let Brynne learn a bit of a lesson before stepping in—serve her right if the guy breathed cheap beer in her face.

  Gray grabbed a stool around the curve of the long bar where he could keep eyes on Brynne and ordered a beer. Then he remembered she wouldn’t have any money on her—and her ID was likely at the bottom of Coeur d'Alene Lake in her car.

  “I’m buying for the blonde in the white dress too,” he told the bartender. “Add her to my tab.”

  The bartender nodded, handed Gray his beer and went to lean on the bar by Brynne, who had both the cowboy and the geek with the phone—who suddenly didn’t look quite as harmless—eyeing her like happy hour munchies.

  The bartender chatted with Brynne, who smiled back in a way that made her pretty face light up, and Gray’s shoulders tighten up and heat rise up his neck. The dude laughed, slapped the bar and went to mix her a drink. A blended margarita—that was her favorite. One of them and she was a happy camper, two and she got amorous. Which meant if she ordered drink number two, he’d be watching her every move. Right. He’d be doing that anyway.

  The bartender served her the drink on a napkin and then wandered back in Gray’s direction, helping other customers on his way. “You and those two guys offered to buy for her,” he told Gray with a grin. “You wanna get the first one?”

  Gray shoved his hair back, glowered at Brynne and her two admirers, and then shrugged. “Whatever.”

  He deliberately turned away, just as a brunette in a tight, low-cut red top and jeans that had apparently been painted on, slid up onto the barstool next to him. She tossed back her long hair and gave Gray a sultry smile.

  Gray smiled back, appreciating the show. Had to admire a woman with confidence.

  “Hello,” she said in a voice that matched her smile. “I’m Sondra.”

  “I’m Gray.”

  “I’m new in town,” she told him. “This seems like the place, hmm?”

  “It’s the only bar in town,” he agreed, “Unless you count The Stumble In, and I wouldn’t since you’re under sixty and don’t smoke like a chimney.”

  She laughed, and the hair on the back of Gray’s neck stood up. Somehow, her husky chuckle reminded him of the way E’ea laughed, although why he was not sure, because no way could that be right. This woman's laugh didn’t sound like a donkey's bray, just … weird.

  He shook it off, and signaled the bartender. “Buy you a drink?”

  She tossed her hair again. “Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.”

  “Margarita,” Gray said. He was tired of beer.

  As the bartender moved off to mix their fresh drinks, Gray caught sight of Brynne across the bar. She was glaring at him. Ha, she was jealous. Let her see what it felt like.

  Then Brynne turned away and tipped her head toward the cowboy, saying something that made him laugh and lean in, answering her at length. Probably telling her about his cowpony.

  Gray turned back to Sara, or whatever her name was. “What brings you to Magic?”

  She gave him a look through her lashes. “Maybe I was hoping to meet you.”

  He chuckled and she laughed with him. Again, Gray had to quell the urge to lean away from that laugh, and from the predatory glint in her eyes. Instead, knowing Brynne could see, he leaned in. “Sounds like a good enough reason to me.”

  She leaned closer as well, her voice dropping to a purr. “I think so too.”

  Seeing a flash of white from the corner of his eye, Gray looked over just as Brynne headed onto the dance floor with the cowboy. He growled under his breath. At least the band was playing a fast number and not a slow, ass-grabbing tune.

  The brunette looked from him to Brynne and back, and then leaned in to press her full breasts against his arm, her hand on his thigh. “Like to dance?”

  “Sure,” Gray said, on his feet and guiding her to the dance floor, nearly pushing her along in his haste. Brynne was out there with two margaritas in her—and he did not trust that cowpoke not to take advantage.

  Where was E’ea when he needed her, anyway?

  CHAPTER TEN

  E’ea struggled to gain her balance as Brynne's body moved around her. She felt too light and yet strangely heavy, unable to focus her powers, as if she was being shaken in a beaker of liquid.

  Liquid that smelled wonderful, but there was too, too much of it, as if she was drowning in twilight.

  “Brrynne,” she moaned. “Whaat is haappeniing?”

  “E’ea?” Brynne answered, her voice strangely breathless. “Hi! I’m having fun, that’s what. Dancing with a cowboy. Western swing—yee-hah!”

  “Oooh,” E’ea curled into herself as Brynne’s world swung around her in a dizzying whirl. “No … stop moving.”
r />   “No way,” Brynne answered, giggling as her male escort swung her in another arc, maintaining contact with his hand, then pulling Brynne in close and pushing her rhythmically around in their upright position.

  E’ea focused just enough to see there were several other pairs of humans engaged in like movements, although seemingly none as athletically as Brynne and her partner.

  Coupled with the chemicals raging through Brynne’s bloodstream, it was too much.

  “Whaat have you dooone to meeee?”

  “Relax. I just had a couple of margaritas. Take a nap, I’ll be fine.”

  “Buuut Gray-sonn. Must keep saaafe.”

  Brynne snorted, her anger spiking. “He’s in the clutches of a man-eater, all right. But he walked right into her trap, so phooey on him—he can just get himself out too.”

  E’ea tried one last time. “Must … protect hiiim …”

  But then she lost the battle against the mix of the strange substance drugging her host, and movement. So this was tequila. Stasis was her only hope to survive. Humans put themselves through this voluntarily? Unbelievable.

  Not even twilight was worth this.

  * * *

  Brynne let her dance partner—his name was Rhett or Jett or something like that—pull her close against his lean torso as the song changed from fast to slow. She glared over his shoulder as Gray also pulled his partner close enough that her big boobs were all over his chest. Jerk—she hoped he caught a—a herpes, or something. She hoped he couldn’t get it up. She hoped …

  Gray glared back at her, and for a long moment their gazes locked. Anger and yearning fought inside her, but a little glow of triumph sat right on top. Ha. She was giving Gray back the same grief he gave her, but he was not walking away. In fact, he was watching her like a hawk … almost as if he was jealous—of her!

  E'ea was right. This was the way to handle her hot, irritating artist, not lying down and letting him walk all over her.

  Then two things happened. The brunette leaned up to say something in Gray's ear, her hand slithering up around his neck where it had no business being.

  And the cowboy swung Brynne around and slid his hand down to her ass, pulling her so close against his groin that his big silver belt buckle dug into her middle, and something else pressed against her belly.

  She reared back. “Hey!” she tugged his arm higher. “I don’t know you well enough for that.”

  He grinned down at her. “Be glad to show you ever’thang about me, sweetheart. Let’s go out to my Ford F-150. Take you for a ride you’ll never forget.”

  Brynne managed to drag his hand back up to her waist. “I’m sure you could. But not tonight. I forgot my spurs.”

  He leaned closer and snickered, his breath smelling of beer and mint gum. “You can still ride me hard as you want, cowgirl.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so!” Brynne planted her free hand on his chest and shoved. “I’m done dancing, let me go.”

  “Aww, c’mon, dance ain’t over yet,” he began, when suddenly he flew backward. A strong hand on Brynne’s arm yanked her the other way. It was Gray.

  Gray scowled at the cowboy, giving him a shove that sent him stumbling backward, nearly missing another couple. “You got a hearing problem? She asked you to let her go.”

  The cowboy scowled, his face reddening as other dancers turned to watch. “All right, all right. Just havin’ some fun.”

  “Yeah, well go have it with another woman.”

  Brynne’s dance partner jerked his cowboy hat down lower and shoved his way through the crowd.

  Brynne leaned gratefully into Gray’s hard bulk. “Thank you. I thought I was going to have to—”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he broke in, his gaze stormy. “Letting him grab your ass like that. No wonder he got the wrong idea.”

  Brynne stiffened, narrowing her eyes at him. “I beg your pardon, Grayson Stark. I didn’t let him—he just did it. And I was about to—”

  He was glaring down at her breasts. “Coming here in that dress—you’re a menace.”

  “So it's my fault he pawed me? You take that back." Then another couple bumped her from behind, pushing her into his arms.

  Brynne froze, plastered against him from knees to shoulders and all points in between. He felt wonderful, hard and warm and muscular, and smelling of himself and his shaving cologne and lime from the margaritas.

  “You’re the menace,” she said grumpily. “Coming in here in this tight shirt and jeans, smelling all sexy.”

  His arm closed around her, strong and protective. He pulled her out of the way of a promenading older couple, into the shadows near the back of the bar. His eyes hooded in a way she remembered all too well for her peace of mind. “You think I smell sexy?”

  She looked down, which may have been a mistake, as his broad chest filled her vision. “You know I do. I bought you this shaving cologne.”

  His chest quivered on a silent chuckle. “And the shirt. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a new dress. One that will cover you up from here …” he touched the hollow at the base of her throats with the pad of his finger, sending a delicious shiver through her, “… clear to your toes.”

  Brynne was about to blurt something stupid, such as she’d wear anything he wanted her to, as long as he’d take it off of her. But over his shoulder, she caught sight of the brunette, watching them with narrowed eyes from the edge of the dance floor. She looked angry enough to fight. And he had let the woman paw him.

  “You seem to like her outfit,” Brynne told Gray. “Pasted on jeans and all.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he began to move to the new song, a slow plea to 'please come back and try once more'. She could have written the darn lyrics herself. Brynne moved with Gray, her hands resting on his chest, broad and solid and strong, his hands warm and strong on her waist.

  “You told me to keep my distance,” he reminded her. “So why d’you care if I’m looking at other women?”

  He was being purposely dense now, trying to irritate her. Unfortunately, it was working.

  “I don’t care,” she bluffed, shrugging. “She just looks … hard, that’s all. You can do better.”

  “Why thank you, baby,” he said, reversing direction so he was backing her through the crowded floor. “That’s real nice of you to look out for me. Any suggestions?” He made a show of looking around. “How about that redhead over there—she’s very attractive.”

  Brynne looked. “Fine, if you like cougars. She’s at least forty.”

  Gray nodded. “You’re right. Hey, there’s a pretty one—the one with long black hair.”

  “Not unless you want to fight for her. Pretty sure the big guy she’s with is her boyfriend, or husband.”

  “You’re picky for me,” he said, turning her in a smooth circle, his thighs brushing hers. “No other women here unless you count the ones at that table over there.”

  “Jail bait,” she said promptly. “Now there’s a nice lady at that table.”

  Gray looked, and then shuddered, hiding his face against her hair. “Baby, she doesn’t even have all her teeth.”

  Brynne snickered, and he dipped his head and nipped her ear. “Best watch out, or you’re gonna be my only remaining prospect.”

  Fighting the shiver of pleasure caused by his warm breath and the tiny sting of his teeth, Brynne shoved at him, pulling out of his arms.

  “Gee, just what every woman wants to hear, ‘Guess I’ll take you, babe, you’re all that’s left’.”

  And she was not settling for being the one who was there when he was in the mood—not any more. E'ea had convinced her that she was worth more than that. She'd died, and come back to life, and this time she was living it on her terms, Gray or no Gray.

  Even if the thought cut like a knife.

  Turning on her heel, she stalked off the dance floor and toward the nearest exit. A neon sign pointed the way to the Gents and Ladies. At the far end of the short hallway, a door
stood open into the night.

  Brynne veered into Ladies. She did her business, washed her hands and emerged into the hallway, only to find a wall of man blocking her escape route.

  “Going somewhere?” Gray asked, scowling as usual.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Brynne tried to move around him. “Yes. Home—I mean, back to your place.”

  He sidestepped, staying in front of her. “Not without me, you’re not.”

  Brynne glared. “I don’t need you to watch out for me, Gray. Go back out there and—and find your brunette to do the nasty with you. I can take care of myself.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he demanded. “E’ea told us to stay together, especially after dark. I’m not letting you wander around in a strange town at night—and this town is strange, trust me.”

  Behind them, the band swung into a fast country song, and a roar of approval rose, chairs scraping and feet stomping. Gray muttered a curse, and grabbed Brynne’s hand. “C’mon, we’ll never get through that crowd. We’ll go out the back.”

  “Maybe I’m not ready to leave."

  He gave her a look. “Really? You wanna stay and play grab-ass with the cowboy some more?”

  No, she did not. She wanted to play it with him, but he didn’t want her—not really. And she wasn't asking, no sirree.

  Gray shook his head, not waiting for her to answer. “I’m not leaving you here. You want trouble, I’ll give it to you.”

  “What does that mean?” Her heart thumped with excitement as she followed him out the back door of the bar, waiting breathlessly for him to speak again—or to act.

  By the light of a single bulb revealing a dusty alley, two dumpsters and an old pickup truck, Gray led Brynne by the hand down a step and along the alley. Wind gusted, sending Brynne’s skirt swirling up and an empty plastic bag flying by, along with a big tumbleweed.

  “Welcome to the desert,” Gray said, pulling her along. Just as they reached the shelter of an old awning over a store’s back entrance, thunder rumbled, long and loud. Lightning flickered out on the high desert, and then again, much nearer.