Luke: Armed and Dangerous (19 page)

Her learning of the job with DropCaps was going great so far. No pressure, since she
wasn’t officially starting until January.

Punch to the bag. It felt hard against her knuckles.

Finding the bastard who was after her sister—not so great.

Another punch to the bag. Clay and Noah and Zack were so pissed they walked around
like dark clouds, storming all over the Flying M. Luke hadn’t been much better—and
he’d been gone a lot, too, out with his friend Rios, doing God only knew what.

One of the ranch hands had made a comment to another hand about Rios and Luke being
heavy drinkers at a Douglas bar on their days off.

Trinity frowned. She couldn’t picture Luke as a drunk. Couldn’t picture it at all.

But she could picture herself in bed with him.

“I’m ready.” Trinity smacked the bag again.

Just thinking about Luke made her ache all over, inside and out.

In a quick movement, Trinity spun and kicked the punching bag dead-on with her right
foot. In a flash she nailed it with her left foot, then jabbed at the bag with each
fist in rapid-fire succession.

Just as she was about to kick the bag again, hair prickled at her nape.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

Wild thoughts tore through her mind—of the arsonist and the bastard who sent that
psycho postcard.

Adrenaline pumped through Trinity, and she went on defensive autopilot.

She shot out her foot, low and hard, connecting with a booted shin. At the same time
she twisted and broke free of the grip on her shoulders. She whirled, sending her
fist into a hard muscled abdomen—

A fraction of a second before she realized it was Luke.

“You’ve got a helluva left, sugar.” He grimaced and rubbed his abs with his palm.
“That’s certainly one way to greet a man.”

“Yeah, well, serves you right.” Trinity’s cheeks burned as she tossed her ponytail
over her shoulder. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to sneak up on a woman.”

He took a step closer, dominating her personal space, but she lifted her chin and
held her ground. Beneath his dark Stetson, dirt streaked his stubbled face and he
smelled of dust, horse, and testosterone. Sweat soaked his blue denim work shirt,
and dang if he wasn’t wearing a pair of well broken-in chaps.

No fair. A good-looking cowboy in chaps had always been one of her weaknesses. There
was just something sexy about a man in all that leather.

Trinity shivered, her nipples hardening, her body already throbbing and tingling.
She could picture him naked, with only his chaps on...

Luke’s wicked blue eyes glittered as he moved so close that his belt buckle brushed
her belly. “I’ve been dying to get a little uninterrupted time alone with you.” He
placed one hand on her hip and reached up to trail his thumb along her cheekbone with
his other. “I can’t hardly sleep at night, picturing you in my bed.”

Heat suffused her body, starting from where his hand rested on her hip, flowing across
her thighs, between her legs, up to her breasts and neck and on up to the roots of
her hair.

Trinity swallowed hard past the dry lump in her throat. She licked her lips and a
muscle in his jaw twitched. God but she wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to feel his
sweaty naked body—against her own currently sweaty body.

His mouth neared hers and she braced her hands on his muscled chest.

“I’m through playing games with you, Luke.” She shoved against all that strength and
power. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be, so don’t even ask me this time.”

His deep rumble of a laugh made her that much hotter.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” His words rolled through her body like thunder. “But
at least you’re starting to believe yourself.”

“I’m not making you any promises,” she whispered. “I don’t even know what you really
want from me.”

“Yes, you do.” Luke slid his hand from her cheekbone, roughly brushing her earrings
as he reached for her sweat-dampened hair. Grabbing her ponytail in his fist, he pulled
on it, gently bringing her closer to him. He swept his lips over hers and she tasted
his breath as she moaned. He nipped at her lower lip and she sighed into his mouth.
“I want everything. And I want it right now.”

“Trinity?” A British man’s voice called from the other end of the barn, shattering
the hold Luke had on Trinity. “Are you in here?”

“Oh.” In a confused haze, Trinity tried to push away from Luke but he kept his grip
on her hip and her ponytail.
Oh, this is not good. Not good.
“Let me go, Luke.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Trinity?” Race called out again, the sound of his voice incongruous as Trinity cursed
out loud and in her mind, double-time.

She could tell from the stunned look on Luke’s face that he was thinking all sorts
of things—like, maybe she hadn’t broken it off with Race when she said she did, or
maybe she’d been in touch with him, or having second thoughts the whole time she’d
supposedly been getting herself ready to give herself completely to Luke.

Damn!

“Give me a minute,” she said to Luke, but he didn’t look like he was about to have
that kind of patience.

“I need to do this,” she told him. “And I need you to trust me.”

Trinity pushed against Luke’s powerful chest again. He held on to her ponytail for
a moment longer, then let it slide through his fingers as she broke away from him.

She couldn’t seem to break eye contact, even though she needed to go talk with Race.
Trinity had never felt so sexy, so attractive, and so secure as she did around Luke—while
totally unbalanced all at once.

He was driving her crazy.

She was so ready for him—and now this?

Was life just playing one big long joke on her?

“Trinity?” Race sounded lost and completely confused.

“Coming.” Cool air dried the sweat on her skin even before she grabbed her sweat jacket
from a hook on the wall and slipped it on.

Trinity started to leave, then paused to glance back to Luke. With that possessive
look on his face she could just imagine him pulling a Neanderthal routine and getting
in the middle of things. She pointed her finger at him. “You—you behave,” she whispered
before turning. She jogged around the corner and spotted Race at the opposite end
of the barn.

Trinity came to a dead stop, unable to make herself hurry toward the man she’d been
with for the last two years of her life. Before she stepped back in time and started
wrestling with her past.

It had been what, almost a month since she’d kissed Race goodbye at Heathrow Airport
in London. A light, conservative kiss since he was a typical reserved English gentleman
who never indulged in public displays of affection.

But when she saw him here, in the world she’d grown up in, it was almost like the
last two years had happened to another woman. No excitement rushed through her at
the sight of him, no fluttering of anticipation in her belly. Just a pleasant feeling
of seeing a good friend... mixed with the twinge of uncertainty and a distant ache
over not wanting to hurt someone she truly cared about.

“There you are, my dear.” Race smiled as he strolled up to Trinity.

Yes, he was a devastatingly handsome man, fit and well muscled, and about as tall
as Luke. His high cheekbones gave him an aristocratic look, but his sandy blond hair
and deep brown eyes made him friendly and approachable, and definitely gorgeous and
sexy.

Race’s cobalt-blue polo shirt, khaki slacks, and brown loafers were glaringly out
of place in the barn, but she couldn’t imagine the sophisticated and refined man in
anything more casual. Funny, but she’d never seen him in a pair of jeans. As far as
she knew, he didn’t own any.

“What are you doing here?” Trinity tried not to sound shocked or annoyed as he reached
her and took both of her hands in his.

“I came to make my case in person.” Race lowered his head and gave her a light kiss.
His lips were cool and firm, and he smelled of the musk cologne she had given him
for Christmas last year. “I hoped it might be a nice surprise.”

As he touched her, she felt nothing. Nothing at all.

“I couldn’t be more astonished.” It was as if she’d lost the ability to smile as Race
drew back.

It occurred to her that not only was she sweaty, but her hair was no doubt poking
out of her ponytail, and her face probably streaked with sweat and barn dust from
her intense workout.

A part of her couldn’t help but analyze the difference between Race’s greeting and
Luke’s. Even though she looked like a mess, Luke had made her feel beautiful, sensual,
and wanted. If he’d had the chance, she knew Luke would have made love to her right
there in the barn, dirt and sweat and all.

Race—Race would want her to shower.

The discomfort she felt no doubt showed on her face and mirrored his, because his
smile faded away. “I’ve made a terrible mistake coming here, haven’t I?”

Trinity had to admit she cared about Race a lot, but she wasn’t in love with him,
and he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe it had taken him flying thousands of miles and
seeing her in a barn to get a grasp on that, but she thought that’s what was happening.

“I don’t think it’s a mistake.” She finally found her smile, now that she was becoming
certain he wouldn’t misinterpret it. “We probably should have done this face-to-face
before, to make it real.”

“Well, then.” Race’s smile came back, this time a sad one. “Let’s finish it properly,
shall we?”

When the Englishman kissed Trinity, Luke gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.
He had to fight the urge to grab the bastard by his collar and kick his pansy ass
back to where he’d come from.

Trinity was Luke’s woman now. If Race didn’t back off, Luke was going to have to get
in the middle of things in a hurry. He strode toward them as the man drew away from
the kiss. Before Luke reached them, Trinity said something he couldn’t hear and Race
smiled.

When Luke came up behind Trinity, the Englishmen glanced at him. “Hullo,” he said
as he released Trinity and held out his hand to Luke. “Race Bentham. And you must
be one of the, er, cattle herders?”

“Something like that.” Luke shook the man’s hand, surprised by his equally firm grip.
“Luke Rider.”

“He’s the Flying M’s foreman,” Trinity said in a rush as her gaze darted from Race
to Luke and back. “He, ah, works for Skylar.”

“You two have some talking to do.” Luke’s eyes rested on Trinity, telling her without
words that he would do his best to trust her, but it was damned hard. “I’ll be out
at the corrals if you need me.”

He gave Race a nod and touched his hand to his Stetson, then strode out of the barn
without looking back. His gut clenched and it was all he could do not to turn around,
grab that woman, and cart her off by her ponytail like a damned caveman.

Trinity watched Luke walk away, his leather chaps framing his tight ass as he headed
out the barn door. Dang but a cowboy in chaps made her hot. Although Luke definitely
made her hotter than any man ever had—chaps, or no chaps.

“Would you like to freshen up, my dear?” Race asked, and she caught the note of concern
in his voice. “I would like to do the same if you don’t mind me doing so here.”

Trinity snapped her gaze from Luke’s retreating backside and met Race’s warm brown
eyes. He was so kind, gentle, and considerate. Everything that Luke wasn’t.

Although that wasn’t quite true. Luke had been considerate in his own way—he had given
her time to understand herself, and what she really wanted. He’d tried to protect
her, and teach her to protect herself better. And now, even though she knew it was
hurting him, he was giving her space to talk with Race.

Race frowned, his brows furrowing. The concern made him look ali the more regal and
distant. “Trinity, are you quite all right?”

She clasped her hands together and squeezed them so tightly her knuckles ached. “This
is awkward for me, but I feel like I owe you this conversation,” she said so fast
she stumbled over the words. “Two years is a long time for me just to end the relationship
over the telephone.”

Race’s eyes held hers as he slid his hand into a pocket of his slacks. Sparkles flashed
in the barn’s dim interior when he brought out a diamond ring and held it in his palm.
“Tell me I’ve still got a chance to change your mind,” he said softly, the rich timbre
of his accent lending the plea a special poignancy.

Trinity bit the inside of her lip as the diamond flashed and glittered. It had to
be two carats—and the band was probably platinum. Race would choose such a symbol,
a concrete statement of her worth—and his.

Emotions rolled through her like bouncing tumbleweeds. She had never come so close
to having every material thing she’d ever wanted. Not to mention the one thing she’d
never had in her childhood—an even-tempered, safe, dependable man.

In a handful of days, after a few blistering encounters with a man she barely knew,
was she truly ready to throw away the security she had with Race?

Race stood before her, holding his ring, clinging to his hopeful expression even as
his eyes hinted that he knew the truth. Trinity saw him completely in the prismatic
diamond light—a wonderful, kind, and passionless prison of a man.

Regret flooded her and she lowered her eyes to the barn’s dirt floor.

She knew what she needed, and it wasn’t safety or propriety.

No. Not anymore.

Her future lay in risk, in leather, in the desert heat, and a cowboy’s muscled arms.

At least for now.

For the first time in her adult life, Trinity MacKenna felt a real sense of freedom
and anticipation for tomorrow. A tomorrow that wasn’t studiously mapped or planned,
or confined in the squeaky- clean manners of the corporate world.

She had to hurt this man all over again, probably even worse than she had on the telephone
and in her e-mail, and that reality shook her deeply. With her emotions turned loose,
she felt the sting of his pain even before she inflicted it.