 
#

Broken Fences

a troublemaker novel

Published by Kelly Gendron

Copyright © 2013 Kelly Gendron

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations used in reviews.

Edited by: Autumn Conley

# CHAPTER ONE

The loud squeal may have jilted her heart, but it was the flying pig that stopped Dusty Owens dead in her tracks _. Damn that Jesse Walker and his pigs!_ If the man insisted on traveling with animals in the back of his truck, he needed to learn how to build a proper cage.

With its short, tiny legs, the piggy was getting away. Dusty chased and dived, sliding sideways onto the dirt road to catch the slippery squealing thing. They wrestled in the mud until she finally had a good grip on it. She carried the writhing animal over to Walker's truck and jerked on the door handle. _Ha!_ It was unlocked. She placed the muddy pig on the front seat and closed the door _. Take that, Jesse Walker!_

Next, she headed toward The Bucking Barrel, the tavern best known for its monthly mechanical bull competition. It was also known for being run by the youngest and most prosperous owner in the Odessa area, Dusty Owens herself. Besides being the proprietor of The Bucking Barrel, Dusty was also known for something else. She'd held the female mechanical bull record in Texas for the longest streak in the competition. In other parts of the country, that might not have meant much, but in Texas, it was quite an achievement.

Dusty pushed the front door open only to hear "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" blasting out of the speakers. A couple of girls were dancing together in front of the DJ, their bootin', scootin', and boogyin' causing the few cowboys nearby to drool like a cow chewing its cud. After taking a quick sweep of the place, Dusty grinned. The speakers weren't the only things booming. The place was busy for a Tuesday.

"Whoa! You look a mess, Dusty! What the hell happened to ya?" Jesse Walker said, sitting at the bar with that shit-eatin' grin he seemed to wear on a permanent basis.

She smirked. "Me? You oughtta see the front seat of your pickup, Walker." She pointed at him. "I told you to take care of those pigs."

With his beer midway to his mouth, Jesse eyed her as she strolled on by. It took a minute for her words to sink in, but when they did, they must have hit him like a ton of bricks. "Shit! Dusty!" He slammed the beer down on the bar. "That truck's brand new!" he shouted and shot for the door.

" _Shit_ , Jesse," she mocked over her shoulder. "So are these damn boots!"

Not giving Walker another thought, Dusty set her eyes on the real cause for her late-night visit to the bar, the reason she'd had to put her favorite TV show on pause, get dressed, jump in her own truck, and haul herself back to the place she'd mentally punched out of three hours earlier—all after putting in ten hours behind the bar. There was only one reason for that, and that reason was Jimmy James. If there was one thing Dusty couldn't tolerate, it was seeing her cousin Sissy cry, and Jimmy wasn't about to get away with causing it.

Dusty wandered to the back of the bar, where she found Odessa's six-pack of trouble.

The group of little hell-raising heartthrobs were really nothing but boys trying to be men, ranging in age from twenty-two to twenty-six. The one betrothed to her cousin, Jimmy, was swaying over the pool table with a pool stick in his hand.

"Hey!" Dusty called out to her cousin's fiancé.

His eyes shifted from the cue ball to Dusty. _Damn those James eyes!_ Jimmy's were a slightly duller shade of green, but every time she fell into them, Colden, the older James brother, popped into her head, her heart and—well, although he'd been absent for years, just the thought of him still found a way between her legs to give her a little tug there too.

She stopped in front of the table and placed her hand on her hip, it slid off in the mud left over from her pig wresting. She dug her fingers into the filthy denim to keep it in place. "All she wanted was for you to taste some freaking cake, look at a few flower arrangements, and pick out a damn invitation for the wedding. That's it!"

"Listen, Dusty..." Jimmy flung the pool stick up from the table, and it hit the floor. "I was gonna go with Sissy. Hell, I even cut out of work early. Matter fact, I was on my way to meet her, but then I got called back." He tipped his fallen cowboy hat back up and gave her a quick glance. "One of our tractors stalled on Dirky Road and—"

"So you couldn't call her?"

"Shit!" he dragged out in a manly whine. "You know how she can be. Sissy woulda been all upset and started bawlin'. I can't bear to see her like that. It always breaks my damn heart."

"If you've even got one." Dusty glared at him. "So let me get this straight. In order to keep yourself from having to hear her cry, you took the easy way out and left me to deal with it. Well, while your tiny little excuse for a heart's still intact, Sissy's big one is broken. Your fiancée is at my house right now, cryin' her pretty little eyes out, and here you are snot-slinging drunk and shootin' pool!"

Jimmy opened his mouth, but a distinguished voice interrupted him. "Come on, girl. Give the kid a break," the sound huskily drawled from behind Dusty's ear.

She froze.

It wasn't the comment that sent every hair on her neck into a standing position, nor was it that someone was actually sticking up for Jimmy James. No, it was the _sound_ of the voice. It was a little deeper and a whole lot more confident, but she still recognized it. It belonged to none other than Colden "Saint" James. The last time she'd seen the so-called Saint was when he was twenty-four years old, a rookie cop in Odessa, a mild mannered do-gooder, almost on the verge of being plain boring. But no matter how quiet or law-abiding he had been, Dusty had always had a thing for him.

_After all these years, what the hell is Mr. Goody Two Shoes doing back in Odessa?_ It took only a few seconds for Dusty to answer her own question. In two weeks, his brother was going to marry her cousin. With the short one-month engagement, Dusty had been too busy with her maid of honor duties to even worry, much less care about who she'd be walking down the aisle with on the big day. Colden had been gone for an eternity, and few ever spoke of him anymore, so never in a million years would she have imagined walking down the aisle on his arm. He was, however, Jimmy's only sibling, and Jimmy was at least loyal to family, one of the few qualities that forced her to like the kid.

Ready to face the do-gooder who had stolen more than her virtue, Dusty recomposed herself and slid her head over her shoulder. _Slump_. Everything from the neck down, including her heart, dropped to the floor. _Those damn James eyes!_ They were hooded, but no amount of shadowing could dim the golden flecks in those dangerous green pools.

The dome lamp hanging over his head put every delicious part of the Saint in the spotlight. The younger, more slender body she remembered had been replaced with muscles and tattoos. _Holy shit! Tattoos?_ The ink popped out from the sleeves of his snug-fitting white t-shirt, and she noticed some curling up from the collar of his shirt onto his neck. _A neck tattoo? Well, if that ain't...freaking hot._ His jeans looked used and abused, the same way any naughty girl would want to be treated by the rough and tough bad boy standing before her.

He smiled the kind of smile that no doubt left pools of women in his wake, the kind that crushed hearts. Dusty, on the other hand, had stopped dissolving into a pool of liquid mess over the Saint years ago, and as for her heart, she liked to think that was no longer crushable.

Then again, she wasn't looking at the same Colden James who'd left Odessa six years earlier. With the acknowledgment, somehow she managed to keep her smile plastered to her face. "Oh, I think your little brother can handle himself just fine, St. James." She normally called Colden by his middle and last name, it had always suited the do-gooder real well.

"I have no doubt he can. But to be fair, I don't think there's a man in Texas that can handle the likes of you, Dusty Owens. That is," his eyes lowered to her mouth, "until now."

"Until now?" she repeated as she drew her head back, shocked that he'd said it. Cocky and bold, he certainly wasn't the mild-mannered rookie cop she'd known before. Even her body reacted differently to him.

"Yes, if my memory serves me correctly—which I'm sure it does, as it's rather vivid— _this_ man knows how to handle _you_ just fine," Colden said, but his eyes, not his voice, were what really spoke to her, and what they had to say were some pretty naughty things, real naughty—like pussy damaging naughty.

Truth be told, though, the last time Colden James had handled Dusty, she'd been pressed up against old man McAllister's fence, and they'd broken it. That night, Colden had revealed the more dominant side of himself, the part Dusty had always assumed she'd been attracted to but had never had the privilege of experiencing.

She shook her head, recalling when she'd last set eyes on him, the day after he'd taken her hard against that fence, the day after he'd taken her virginity. She had been on her way home from work and noticed Colden standing there in nothing more than jeans and boots, with his shirt tucked into the back pocket of his pants. The hot, dominant man was gone. The do-gooder was back, literally mending fences. She hadn't stopped but had slowly driven by. Roadside. It was the last time she'd seen those beautiful green eyes.

After that, she'd heard that the Saint had left for Georgia, the same place he'd gone for some training after graduating from the police academy before she'd met him. When he didn't return, she assumed he'd taken a job out there. In any case, if he planned on being there for the wedding and if she was going to have to tolerate him for the next two weeks, she needed to put Colden and all his newfound cockiness in its place.

"I got this, Colden," Jimmy slurred right at the wrong moment.

Not taking his eyes off her, Colden chuckled. "No, finish your game, Jimmy. Let Dusty and me hash this out ourselves. We got some catching up to do."

In agreement, Dusty turned completely around. Disappointedly aware of what she looked like in her pig-wrestling t-shirt and jeans, she aligned her shoulders and tried to work with her other assets, the two she knew firsthand the Saint's mouth had once enjoyed tasting. She hoped he still enjoyed them, or at least enjoyed looking at them. Dusty thrust her B-cups out, stepped toward him, and lifted her head to gaze into those dangerous green eyes, just to show him he no longer affected her. "You may have handled _me_ once, St. James, but from what I remember, you couldn't handle yourself."

Colden bent his head, and a whiff of coffee, bark, and sex wafted into her nose. The man actually smelled like sex— hot, sweaty, long, hard sex. Every hormone inside pushed for her to lean forward, to get closer to the thigh-clenching aroma, but her brain proved to be very powerful and persuasive in ordering her back to arch and veer away from him.

The Saint smiled, obviously pleased by her resistance or perhaps amused by the challenge. For a brief second, his eyes drifted to her breasts, and that scent of sex lingering in the air only intensified. He tilted his head to the side and coasted to her left ear. "Still sore about that broken fence, ain't ya, girl?" he whispered so low that no one else in the bar could hear him.

"You wish." She scowled, feeling the dried mud on her face crack as she back stepped from his pure sexiness. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but you and me...well, we have absolutely no catching up to do. Besides, I don't think Jimmy needs his big brother fighting his battles for him anymore."

"I know." Colden straightened to his full six-something height and looked down at her. "But you can't blame me for tryin', right? I been sticking up for him for the past twenty-six years, since he was born."

"Twenty, really," she was quick to correct. "Need I remind you that you've been gone for the past six?"

"Touché." His smile had a little less curl to it this time, his jaw tight and ambiguous.

She started to turn back to Jimmy, preferring to deal with him rather than Colden, only to be interrupted by that low, enticing drawl.

"But..."

Her eyes slithered back to the gorgeous man that only time had improved.

"How about you give me the opportunity to help my little brother out? For old time's sake?"

She snorted and was sure a piece of mud had fallen from her forehead, but she managed to hold her head high. "For old time's sake?"

"That's what I said, girl." He reached out and gently picked a piece of mud off her forehead.

She pushed his hand away. "It's Dusty, not _girl_!"

Disregarding her hostility, he scrubbed a strong hand over his stubbled chin. "You still trying to fight me on that one, ain't ya, _girl_?"

She clenched her fists. _Girl?_ It's what Colden had always called her, but now it was driving her insane. He didn't call anyone else that, and even if she hadn't minded it before, now it was just pissing her off. .

"Besides..." Colden dropped his hand from his perfectly chiseled chin. "It won't be the first time I'd have to save him from the wrath of you. You've been harassing that poor kid since he first set eyes on your cousin. I recall having to pick you up and carry you out of this very bar to save him when you caught them kissin' in the storage room."

"Sissy was only seventeen, and you're little brother had her in a bar!"

"Hey, I ain't sayin' he's innocent. All I'm asking for is a chance to save him this one last time. It'll be an early wedding gift." He stared at her, but she refused to take the bait.

"All right." He sighed. "How 'bout we make a deal then?" His eyes swept suggestively down her body. The heat from his hot look lingered behind, and when she didn't respond, he said, "Come on, girl. I _know_ you're a risk-taker."

She remained silent, because he was right. She was a risk junkie, and that was the only reason she'd bought the bar. She'd never been able to resist a challenge, and she certainly wasn't going to resist Colden's now.

He stood there for a few seconds, penetrating her with acute eyes. After a fleeting glance to the center of the bar, he grinned. "How 'bout this. You stay on that there mechanical bull longer than I do, and Jimmy's all yours. You can take my little brother behind the bar and rough him up a bit. Hell, if you win, I'll even help you."

Knowing that Colden wasn't the mechanical bull-rider in the family, the deal took her by surprise, much like his unexpected visit. The one and only time she'd seen Colden get up on the thing, he hadn't lasted longer than five seconds before being tossed onto his fine ass. The fall had injured his backside as well as his pride, and it had been difficult to watch. Whenever Colden James did anything, it was usually done to perfection. Unlike most things in his life, the mechanical bull was something he just couldn't seem to conquer.

"It's not gonna happen, but just for shits and giggles, what do you get if I lose?"

"You'll make like a genie," he said, running a finger over the top of his beer bottle. He slid his hand down the neck, gripped, and then lifted it.

"A genie?"

"Yup. You'll grant me one wish," he said before taking a sip.

"And what would your wish be?" she asked, watching him take a long, slow gulp of the beer. His neck thick and taut she wanted to sink her teeth into it.

He finished swallowing. "I think," he said, leaning in closer to her, "for shits 'n' giggles, we'll keep that a surprise."

"This surprise has to be legal and...moral," she wagered, recalling that adultery was immoral.

His eyes twinkled with mischief. "It'll be perfectly legit."

Up for the challenge to put his sex-smelling, fine-looking ass into its rightful place, Dusty smiled wide and cocky. "Okay."

Always competitive, Dusty mounted the bull like a pro, and everyone in the bar stopped to watch her. Normally, the owner of The Bucking Barrel didn't ride the electric beast outside of official competition, sometimes she romanced the bull when the bar was closed and no one was around, but this was a battle she couldn't back down from.

At top speed, the bull would buck sixty-five times and spin forty-five spins in sixty seconds. Dusty lasted on the beast at top speed for fifty-six seconds. It was nowhere near her best time, but she knew it'd be nearly impossible for any amateur to beat. She climbed down from the saddle with a smug grin on her face, then marched confidently back to Colden with the crowd cheering in the background.

Colden was still leaning against the wall, and his eyes had never left hers.

She stopped in front of him. "Okay, cowboy. Let's see what you got," she urged, still trying to catch her breath from the ride and the heated look Colden stroked her with.

He grimaced. "Now that I think about it, you're right. My brother needs to fight his own battles." He took a swig of his beer. "I'm gonna pass, but let me know if you need any help getting him out to the back of the bar," he said with a wink.

"What!" Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Why the hell did you make that deal with me if you didn't plan on following through?"

"I just wanted to see your cute little ass up on that bull." He winked. "You know...for old time's sake."

Not once, but twice the smug son-of-a-bitch had had the audacity to wink at her! Dusty's hands clenched at her sides. "St. James, I am not here for your entertainment! We had a deal. Now get your bony, cocky ass up on that damn bull right now!" She wasn't one to enjoy a win without actually winning it, and she stomped her foot to let him know just how serious she was.

"All right, all right. Calm down, girl." He raised his hands and chuckled, a deep, sexy noise that tickled her insides. As he strutted away, he dropped his beer on a nearby table.

_Hot damn._ She'd forgotten all about that, his walk _._ And his ass wasn't bony at all. It destroyed those worn-out jeans. They were doing what she wanted to be doing, clinging to him in all the right places.

"I'm only staying on long enough to beat your time. Not a second longer," he said, not even bothering to look back.

Pulling her eyes from his amazing backside, she smirked. "Oh, okay."

"I mean it." This time, he glanced at her from over a broad shoulder. "The second I beat your time, shut that damn thing down. Ya got me?"

"Oh, I got you all right." At least, she had him and that amazing ass for one night six years ago.

Dusty walked over to the controls, turned around, and found that Colden was already situated on the electric beast. Once more, everything inside from the neck down had dropped to the floor. For a split second, she wished she was the electric bull. She'd seen cowboys climb up there countless times before, but none of them compared to an all grown up Colden James. He secured one hand to the saddle and stretched the other out in the air, flexing the tattoos that snaked around his bulging bicep. The bow of his back had every muscle outlined by his tight shirt, and his thighs swelled beneath his weathered jeans. Black boots dangled with authority from long, sturdy limbs. And, of course, those wicked James eyes beamed right down at her.

Colden grinned and gave a slight nod, and Dusty hit the button. The beast started right up. At around forty-three seconds, when Colden still looked to be in total control, Dusty started to get nervous. She lost all track of time until the loud one-minute buzzer went off. The sound shook her from the shock. She slammed her hand on the button to stop the bull.

_Holy shit!_ Colden had beaten her time, but that wasn't what had her squirming inside. It was the naughty smile on his face and the thought of having to be his personal genie. She shuddered to imagine what the man would wish for. She tried to relax. _At least he won't be rubbing this genie to get his wish_. No matter what his emerald eyes were saying, she was sure he wouldn't ask for anything naughty. After all, the long-lost do-gooder was married, and had three kids.

# CHAPTER TWO

Colden jumped down from the mechanical bull, grabbed his phone from his pocket, and texted the agent stationed outside his parents' home to inform him to keep an eye out for Jimmy. Sissy had shown up, and from the looks of it, she was about to take his little brother's drunken-ass home. Colden was taking a risk letting Jimmy and Sissy out of his sight, but to be fair, it was only a four-minute drive to their parents' ranch, and there'd been no sign of Riggs since Colden had arrived in town four days earlier. If Vince Riggs, Detroit's biggest gun smuggler, planned to retaliate against Colden and use his family to do it, he hadn't made his move yet.

Colden ordered two beers at the bar and watched as Dusty gave her cousin a hug. He knew it was going to be tough being back in Odessa, especially being so close to Dusty Owens again, but he couldn't take the chance of anything happening to her because of him.

Back in Detroit, once Colden's cover had been blown, the first person he thought of was Dusty and that fucking little star tattoo just below her left eye. A distinct and identifiable factor in the troublemaking picture. The snapshot he'd precariously carried around in his wallet for the past six years. The photo that had disappeared a few days prior to his cover being questioned.

The FBI couldn't be sure where the leak had come from, and they had no idea whether or not Riggs knew Colden's real name or where his family lived. Until it was all sorted out, and due to budget costs, they'd only agreed to put one detail on Colden's family around the clock. The special agent in charge, Jack Norton, had chewed him a new asshole when Colden had confessed about the photo of Dusty, the one he'd allegedly "forgotten" about in his wallet. Jack had told him, "Well, you stupid fucker, now she's _your_ responsibility. Maybe you won't forget that."

So, for the past four days, Colden had been tailing his responsibility.

His family hadn't even known he was in town until that morning, when one of the agents did him a solid and, on his own time, watched over Dusty while Colden checked in with his parents. That was when he found out about the wedding and realized he had a legit reason for returning home, a reasonable excuse that Dusty would buy. The way he'd left her had been wrong on so many levels. He'd taken her virginity and skipped town the very next day, an asshole move if there ever was one.

He watched Dusty wave goodbye to Sissy. When she twirled around, nearly black eyes scanned the place just as they had when she'd first arrived at the bar. His body was still on edge just from being so close to her. Dusty Owens had always had a way of making all of his man parts go all hard. She even messed up his head. Since the moment he'd first laid eyes on her, he'd been overly protective of her, to the point of being possessive. Back in the day, he'd convinced himself that she belonged to him, and although he'd always been reluctant to take her himself, he was glad no one else had tried. It could have caused some trouble in Odessa, Texas, but Colden had been a different guy back then.

He'd believed in discipline, but he'd thought in order to control it, one needed to be reserved. It had held him back from Dusty, among other things. Years of working undercover had taught him that reservation took too damn long and was too much work. To be in control and still survive, one needed to be fearless, a quick thinker and without any hesitation. He'd learned that he had to take what he wanted when he wanted it, period.

He laughed at his new way of thinking. It was going to cause all kinds of problems where Dusty Owens and all of his man parts were involved.

When they landed on him again, her eyes slanted. He flashed a smile her way. _Yep, all kinds of problems._ He called her over with a tilt of his beer. She glared at him but gave in and headed his way. _That's it, girl. Come on over here._

"You still here?" She snatched the beer he was offering and took a long sip.

"I got nowhere to go in a hurry," he said, watching her lick the leftover ale from her lips and wondering if she knew how sexy it was. He growled a bit on the inside as he realized other guys were probably enjoying the scene too.

Her pretty mouth curved upward, as if she knew she was driving him and most of the other males in the room crazy.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he took a swig of his own beer. "The years have been good to you, Dusty." He set his beer down. He was pleased by the flicker of surprise he caught running across her face in the wake of his compliment, and he wanted to see it again. "Then again," he said, swaying toward her over the table, "Odessa's Southern belles...well, they never could hold a candle to the likes of you, Dusty Owens."

This time, her expression didn't give her away. Instead, her smirk widened. "You might not be in a hurry to get anywhere, but chivalry isn't gonna get you there slowly either, St. James."

Oh, how he missed that quick tongue of hers. "Chivalry? Why, I don't need chivalry to get me what I want."

A skeptical, arched eyebrow joined her little smirk. "No?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "First, I kindly ask for what I want." He dropped his eyes to her mouth.

"And then?" he heard her barely whisper.

"If that doesn't work..." He leaned closer, looked up to find her big, beautiful, bated eyes peering back at him. "Well, sweetheart, then I just take it."

She may not have even known it, but he saw it. Her body veered back from him. Satisfied by the reaction, he slumped back in his chair and took another swig of beer. She glared at him, but he only grinned back, until she finally blinked and looked away.

"So I take it you're here for the next two weeks," she sneered, clearly annoyed and irritated by the thought.

Whether her obvious angst stemmed from the fact that he'd just kicked her ass on the mechanical bull or that he'd won their little stare-down, he wasn't sure. Regardless, she was holding a grudge, one that was etched into every crease on her pretty face. Sure as shit, she was sore at him, no doubt for any good reason. Maybe it was more deep rooted, something that went way back to when he'd taken her virginity. In his defense, a little warning would've been nice. He truly hadn't known until it was too late. She hadn't exactly been the portrait of innocence. In fact, she'd been the one pursuing him.

"Dusty," he quietly said.

Her eyes danced around the bar in a blatant effort to ignore him, to act as if he wasn't even there.

"Look...about the way I left..." he started, unsure where he was going to go from there.

Her wandering eyes snapped back to him, and a hand shot up. "Stop right there!" She shook her head. "Let's not stroll down Memory Lane, St. James. I'm completely over it. I've moved on...and so should you."

"Yeah, I can see that." He glanced around the bar, allowing her the time she apparently needed. If she wasn't ready to talk about the past, he'd stick to the present. "You've really made some improvements to this place. That's a nice addition on the back, and I love the new name, The Bucking Barrel. Fitting, since you've got a mechanical bull. That's not some run-of-the-mill machine either. Looks like it set you back some."

The spitefulness in her eyes softened a little. "I got it a few months ago. When Aunt Lulu passed away, she left me a stipend in her Will. I used it to buy the bull and pay off the loan for the addition."

"Lulu? The aunt you stayed with in New York before coming here?" He still remembered Dusty Owens, the New Yorker with pink streaks in her hair, a loud-mouthed, big-city girl. It hadn't taken long for the people of Odessa to realize that Dusty Owens took shit from no one, a trait Colden had always admired.

A slow, long smile teased across her lush lips. "You remember that?"

"Girl, I remember a lot of things," he admitted. In fact, those Dusty memories were sometimes just what he needed to get through the day.

Dusty cautiously watched him from the corner of her eye as she took another long sip of beer.

He nudged his head. "Doing a bit of mud-restlin' on the side, huh?"

Her forehead crinkled. She followed his eyes to her shirt, then laughed. "Yeah...with a pig."

Colden's eyebrows crept together.

She sobered and explained, "You remember Jesse Walker, that kid everyone said carried his pet gerbil in his pocket at school?"

Colden confirmed the legend with a nod.

She continued. "Well, he still likes to keep his pets close. Every time I see his truck outside, his pig is crated in the back. Thing is, Walker couldn't make a secure cage if his life depended on it. I'm constantly chasing after his runaway animals. Too bad I don't like bacon, 'cause if I did—let me tell you—I'd be damn tempted to eat Jesse Walker's best friend."

Colden restrained himself from laughing, but he did permit a small smile to spread across his mouth. While time may have made her even more beautiful, Colden deduced on the inside that Dusty Owens hadn't changed too much, something he was thankful for. Although, a pretty girl was always nice to look at, he preferred a woman with some substance to her, and Dusty had lots of that. She was smart, funny, and tough, as well as kind-hearted and honest, sometimes to the point of being painfully honest.

It was the smart part that worried Colden. As nice as it was to follow her around, Colden was done tailing her ass. The agent in charge wanted Colden to come out from the shadows to try and draw Riggs out, and while Colden wasn't too fond of that plan, he understood why. He had to get up close and personal to keep Dusty safe, but he sensed that before he had the chance, she was going to shut him down.

She gazed at him with vigilant eyes, and he could tell she was going to confront him. Furthermore, she was fully prepared to squash him in the process _._ Just gotta hold out a bit longer _,_ he told himself. He knew he needed to be patient, to wait for the prime time to catch her off guard, a moment that rarely came for Dusty.

She began to open her mouth, and he assumed his time had run out. The quick thinker in him stood on command but was saved by a petite blonde.

"Dusty," the girl said, interrupting the careful stare-down Dusty was aiming his way.

Her eyes slid over to the blonde, who appeared to be an employee, maybe a waitress.

"Sorry," the girl said with a grimace. "Sam's trying to cash out for the night, but she's havin' problems with the register." Her big blue eyes flashed at Colden. "I tried to help, but—"

"It's okay, Liz," Dusty clipped, pulling the blonde's eyes back to her. "I'll go take a look at it."

"Thanks," little Liz said, turning that sweet smile on Colden before she walked away.

Dusty watched the employee caper off. "Cute, isn't she?" she asked. Her eyes shifted to Colden, but he wasn't watching the perky blonde walk away. He was looking right at Dusty.

"I guess," he said with a shrug, giving the waitress a fleeting glance, "if a guy's into breakable blondes." He turned back to Dusty. "As for me, I prefer something a bit more...sturdy, with dark hair and even darker eyes."

A short chuckle slipped from Dusty as she stood up. "The way you break fences, you'd need somebody like that, St. James," she cleverly snapped prior to walking away to help with the register.

This time, Colden allowed a full-bellied laugh to break from his gut. He'd figured right. She was still sore about the whole fence ordeal.

Granted, she was correct. He hadn't been able to handle himself that night. But hell, after two years of watching her, two torturous years of yearning and needing and two painfully long years of desperately wanting to be inside of her, Colden had lost it. For Dusty, since it had been her first time, he could only surmise it had been rough and probably painful. When he heard that fence snap under their combined weight, beneath the pounding he was doing to her body, it had taken everything in him to stop them from falling to the ground. The break was a blessing, really, for it had jolted him back to reality and saved Colden from doing some real damage to the girl.

Dusty grabbed the remote and settled into the sofa cushion, releasing a sigh. After fixing the register problem, she'd looked for Colden, but he was nowhere to be found. Trying not to fixate on his sudden disappearance, something he seemed to be all too good at, she'd jumped in her truck and headed home. Now, in her cozy clothes, nestled down to finish watching her favorite show, she kept wandering to Colden. His cocky little smile, that damn walk, and those allusive eyes. The distraction had her rewinding her program three or four times to see what she'd missed

while fantasizing about a man she'd never be able to touch again.

_Forget about St. James_. She hit the back button— _click, click, click—_ rewinding the program as her mind slipped back to the image of Colden atop that bull. The way he'd handled the electric beast, she was sure he'd been practicing somewhere.

_Shit!_ She'd passed the start of her show again.

She knew she had to stop thinking, stop obsessing over him. _Click, click, click._ She straightened her arm and pointed the remote at the TV as though it would work better that way, then beat down hard on the forward button.

He's married, with three kids, and—

A rapping noise echoed in the room, and her finger stilled on the button. The show shot forward in fast motion as she tilted her head to be sure she'd heard right.

Knock, knock, knock!

The loud sound confirmed that someone was at the door. A quick glance to her cell phone had her wondering who the hell would be paying her a visit at 2:30 in the morning. She jumped up from the sofa, grumbling under her breath, "Damn you, Jimmy. If you've made my cousin cry again..."

Dusty threw the door open, prepared to see Sissy's puffy eyes, but she was instead greeted by hooded green ones. Once those eyes finished consuming every inch of her nearly naked body, they darkened.

"St. James," she half-squeaked. Her eyes did their own devouring of the man standing in her doorway in the middle of the night. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

He moved forward, and she should have bolted her feet to the floor to protect her home, but for some reason, letting him get any closer to her felt more invasive. Dusty back stepped instead, giving him full access to her sanctuary. He checked out the lay of her land, then swung a huge, army-green bag from his shoulder and dropped it on the floor, as if it belonged there or something. He quickly finished the home inspection, and then those damnable eyes performed another uninvited and thorough appraisal of her body. "I'm here to claim my wish."

Stunned, she uttered, "At 2:30 in the morning?"

He shrugged. "The lights were on." He took a few more steps into her house, paying no heed to her appall.

"What if I'd been busy or uh...not alone," she asked the arrogant ass, suddenly missing the do-gooder.

Colden's head slid over his shoulder. The wicked look on his face had her wishing she hadn't put on her short-shorts to sleep in. She tugged on her shirt, and his eyes followed the small action. When she was through fidgeting with the tight cami, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me you've got a guy here or something?"

She crossed her arms over her braless, oddly heavy chest, lifted her chin, and met his skeptical eyes. "Yes," she lied.

"No you don't." He grinned, turned, and started for the living room. "Or at least you didn't...until now."

The place was bigger on the inside than what it looked like from the outside. Colden would have known, since he'd been casing it for the past four days. He knew every square inch. Room to room, he'd watched lights flicker on and off. The image of Dusty's slender, shadowy figure moving behind the curtains had haunted his dreams during the few hours of sleep he'd been able to catch out in his truck.

He wasn't pleased at all to discover that she lived in a house at the dead end of Potts Road. It was secluded, making his clandestine job more difficult, and if anyone wanted to break in and attack her, there was no one to hear her and nowhere to hide.

"Okay, you caught me. There's no guy...well, except for you." She sneered, followed him into the living room, and stopped on the throw rug. "So c'mon. Out with it, St. James. You've got me on the freaking magic carpet." Her arms stretched out. "The genie is waiting. What's your damn wish?" The deep breath she took caused her shoulders to raise and also lifted those tempting handfuls of breasts.

Dusty Owens had always been the entity of Colden's desire. Even after six years, he still wanted to drown his face in the dampness he knew he'd have no problem creating between her legs. He pulled himself away from the temptation and gave her place one last inspection. "I've decided with all the commotion going on at my parents', all the wedding preparation and the company—cousins, uncles...hell, there are people I've never even heard of popping in and out of the place," he said, noting that the vein in her left temple was thumping noticeably.

"And? What's that got to do with me and why you're here in the middle of the night?"

"Well," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "I've decided for the next two weeks, I'm going to be staying here with you." He smiled victoriously as the last word left his mouth.

Dusty's left eye twitched, and the pulse in that thick and visible vein on her temple quickened. If she'd had a spout at the top of her head, Colden imagined steam would have been coming out of it.

Slanted anger leered up at him, but he ignored it and said, "I'm sure you've got a spare room." He pointed toward the back of the house. "You do live here alone, right?"

Her hands fisted at her side, and she stomped her foot in fury. "No!"

"Yes," he said, nodding his head once. "We had a deal. I won, and now you have to grant me one wish."

"You are not staying here!"

He took a step toward her. _Damn that little tank-top._ It didn't conceal enough of her to keep her safe from him. "Come on, Dusty girl. Let's stop all this. We both know you're going to honor my wish."

Her beet-red face prepared for combat. "Oh yeah? And how can _we_ be so sure of that," she seethed from tight lips.

"Because eight years ago, I watched an eighteen-year-old girl drop everything. She left her family, her future, and even forwent her college plans—all because she made a promise to her dying aunt. She granted her one dying wish. She'd promised to look after her daughter. Ever since your aunt took her last breath, you, my brave little girl, have been here taking care of your cousin Sissy." He moved closer until only inches of noiseless tension stood between them. "Dusty Owens, you are a woman who keeps her word."

"That's cruel, using my dead aunt as an example, to manipulate me, just so you can...so you can get your damn wish!"

It was. Colden couldn't disagree with her on that. He'd known it the second the words had escaped his mouth, but it was either that or reducing to influencing her by ripping her shirt off and latching his mouth around one of those beaded nipples pressing to be notice. He would have had no problem convincing her body to let him stay, but his conscience tapped him on the shoulder and reminded him that he ought to start with her mind.

"I've always admired you for that," he admitted, still ashamed about the way he'd said it. Working undercover for the past six years, he'd grown accustomed to paying close attention to detail, including tight nipples begging for attention. But giving a shit about a person's feelings wasn't part of his job description. He walked over and picked up his duffle bag. "And yeah, cruel or not, I'll use it to my advantage." He pulled the bag over his shoulder and looked down at her. "So...which way to my room?"

Annoyed and fuming, she had to know he was right. Unsure what else to do, she apparently admitted defeat, twisted her body around, and stomped off down the hall with him in tow. She slowed at the third door and glanced up at him. "Where's your family?"

The question was odd, but he replied, "At home."

Her nose scrunched up, and a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. "They'll be here for the wedding though, won't they?"

Again, weird. "Yeah," he dragged out.

Her shoulders dropped, and the dread in her face subsided. She opened the door and flicked on the bedroom light. "Well, if they get in before then, I suppose they can stay here. I have another room in the back."

Totally confused, Colden sensed that the line between _his_ eyebrows was now prevalent. "What?"

"You know," she said, sighing and rolling her eyes. "Your wife?"

The duffle bag fell from his shoulder, but he caught it in his hand before it thumped to the floor. He had to wonder if he'd heard her correctly. "My...wife?"

"Yes, her and your three kids. If they come before the wedding, I have another room for them...and of course the missus can stay in here with you."

Whoa! Stop the fucking ride! Dusty Owens thinks I'm married...with children! What the...?

All the training he'd endured for his undercover work suddenly swooped back to him. He recomposed his entirely shocked being within a millisecond. He was just about to commend himself for that when she said, "Don't look so surprised. Jimmy told me about them a couple years ago." She nudged her head. "Bathroom's to the left. I'm going to bed. See you in the morning."

She'd said it so casually before she sauntered down the hall, and he knew it was because she felt safe. She was certain he wasn't after her because she believed he was a happily married father of three. Dazed, he walked farther into the room and finally dropped the bag to the floor. He kicked the door closed behind him as the conversation he'd had with Jimmy came rushing back...

It had happened during one of those rare occasions when he'd called home. At that point, it'd been over a year since he'd been in contact, and Jimmy had been the lucky one to pick up the call. No one else had been home.

"Listen, everyone is asking about you, man. What do want me tell them?"

"Whatever you want. Tell 'em I've joined the Army or that I'm working as a cabana boy on some cruise ship. Hell, tell 'em I'm married and have three kids. I don't care."

"Mom and Dad too? They worry about you, Colden."

His parents knew Colden was working for the government, and they knew how to reach him, but that was all he could tell them. "Yeah, Jimmy. Do whatever you need to. I'll explain everything when I eventually get back."

At the time, Colden had no idea it would be another three years before he'd return home. Now that he was, a smile turned up his lips. _Oh, man, is Dusty Owens in for a big surprise._

# CHAPTER THREE

Dusty got back from her morning jog, walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and as ritual, jumped up and sat on the counter. Leaning to the left, she placed the glass under the fridge water filter and filled it. She downed the whole thing, rested her head back against the cupboard, and closed her eyes.

She wasn't thrilled that she had to be at the bar in two hours. She was exhausted, and she'd had a hell of a time getting to sleep, knowing that Colden was sleeping just two doors down from her. Had she slipped her hand into her panties to cure the pulsating ache he'd created there, of course she had. The cocky bastard had made her pussy hurt like hell, and she knew she'd never fall asleep until she tended to it. Maybe it was desperate on her part, but no one was the wiser. All she could do was try not to feel guilty about fantasizing about a married man.

"Damn, Dusty, it's hot in here."

Her eyes snapped open just in time to catch Colden swaggering into the kitchen in nothing more than a pair of low-slinging athletic pants. Even his feet were naked. Tattoos wrapped around sculpted biceps and curled down one beautifully proportioned side, disappearing beneath a loose waistband. There was a spot where his eight-pack—yes, his _eight_ -pack—ended and the curve of his hip began. No human anatomy expert, she couldn't say for sure which muscle it was, but she wanted to slide her tongue over it, to follow the delicious contour down past his pelvic area while she pulled on the drawstring hanging hazardously from those sexy, hipbone-exposing pants.

"What is this, the Stone Ages? Don't you have central air?"

She flicked her eyes to his. They were smiling as if he was some kind of mind-reader who could interpret her naughty thoughts. He hitched a thumb into the waist of his X-rated pants. It pulled them down just enough to reveal a bit more of the muscle her tongue was salivating to lick. She felt a tug. It jerked her hips, causing her ass to shift forward and then slide back on the counter. _Damn it!_ She tightened her thighs, pissed that her pussy was throbbing again, demanding attention at the worst possible moment.

"It's broken," she hissed, squirming on the inside. "The central air is broken."

Slowly his gaze drifted to her mouth in time to see her licking her lips. _Well, if that's not an invite..._

She looked up and was greeted by smiling eyes. _Shit!_ "Did you forget to pack a shirt?"

"No, but like I said, it's hot in here." He put the emphasis on "hot" as all of his scorching hotness moved farther into the room.

Her spine snapped straight while every hormone applauded inside, encouraging him to come closer. You can't have him, she scolded every badly behaving hormonal cry that had her hankering after a married man.

"Where is it?" he asked, shaking her from reprimanding her inner good girl-gone-bad.

"What?"

"Your A/C unit. I'll take a look at it." With a slight lift of the shoulders, he said, "Maybe it just needs a good tune-up."

"You some kind of HVAC expert or something? You think you can fix it?" she asked realizing that if he could cool things off, maybe he'd put his damned shirt back on. "I had no idea you knew about that kind of stuff."

"You'd be surprised the kind of stuff I know about." His eyes rolled over her stimulated body. "I know how to fix all sorts of broken things."

_Oh my God!_ She bit the sides of her tongue. The badly behaving hormones within wanted to ask him to fix the ache between her legs, to give her a good tune-up there too. For some reason, she sensed he had just the tools and know-how to get the job done. _Hello, Dusty! Mr. Fix-It is a married man!_

"It's out back," she said, then relaxed against the cupboard when he turned to leave the room.

Her reprieve didn't last long, though, because Colden twisted back around and walked toward her. This time, he didn't bother halting at a safe distance, as he had done before. He stood right in front of her, invading her personal space.

Sitting in a t-shirt and shorts, still situated up on the counter, her body quivered when he made contact with her slightly parted legs. Her naked knees almost brushed against those X-rated pants—almost. Sex oozed from the man, from his eyes, and from his pores. He smelled like it, and it glistened effectively along every curve and ripple of his toned body. He placed a large palm on the counter, and that look—that I'm-going-to-go-in-for-a-kiss look, the look that said he was going to take whatever he wanted, with no chivalry whatsoever. The smoldering, desire-drowned look Dusty had been dreaming of for years, since he'd last laid his hands, lips, and so much more on her and in her.

_It's a little too late now, St. James,_ she hissed with her eyes. She had to stop him. Dusty was many things, but a home-wrecker wasn't one of them. "Colden," she placed a hand on his hard chest, "your wife."

He glanced down at her hand and his strong muscles moved beneath it. She quickly pulled her hand away. His other palm dropped to her right and rested beside her on the countertop. Heavy lids lifted, and she was captured by dark, ravenous eyes. The veins in his neck thickened, and his jaw clenched as he growled, "Dusty, girl, there is no wife."

The unexpected comment had more sex suddenly pouring out of him, gushing from his mouth, and Dusty's lay wide open, as though she were trying to catch it.

"Wh-what?" _No wife?_ Needing to confirm that she'd heard him correctly, she stuttered, "You...you're not married?"

"Nope." His eyes held hers, as a muscular thigh nudged her knee aside. Without thinking, unable to and hypnotized by his all-consuming gaze, her legs spread open to let him in. Taking full advantage of the invitation, Colden stepped inside. Their warm flesh slid together as he settled his body between her trembling thighs. Heat gathered where the skin of his hip touched her flesh. "I'm not, nor have I ever been married." He leaned in an inch closer.

The candor in his eyes had her believing him. "Kids?" she breathed, needing to eliminate it all before she surrendered, since there was no doubt about, Dusty was going to surrender.

Mind-reader again at work, he grinned and slowly shook his head. "Not that I know of." His eyes dropped to her mouth. "I'm completely unattached."

The confession tugged somewhere low and deep in her belly. "You are?" she whispered. The Saint, the man standing between her legs, soaking her panties, was available to touch, to kiss, to... Her imagination ran wild, and her hungry hormones danced.

He bent his head, and the dirty dancing got even hotter. Through dark eyelashes, he looked up at her. "Yes, Dusty, I'm free to do whatever and whoever I want," he breathed, his warm breath wafting across her partly opened mouth.

"Well...then..." She nibbled a tingling bottom lip. "If you're not married, where have you been?"

His palms pressed onto the counter as his strong arms locked straight, trapping her. He swayed forward, till his lips almost touched hers. "Does it really matter?" he huskily rasped, and before the word "no" could escape Dusty's mouth, he kissed her.

Feeding from the liquid ecstasy of her mouth, Colden's hands shifted to her naked thighs. His fingers sank into her soft skin, and he dragged her closer. She answered by wrapping her legs firmly around his waist. Their perfect fit triggered a groan to rumble from his tight chest. Grasping a rope of her hair, he tugged her away. With her lips puffy, her eyes glossy, and her cheeks flushed, she was ravishing. He guided her back to him and kissed her hard. Her mouth opened to receive his tongue play, but he tugged her away once more. She let out a little cry, instantly hardening all of his man parts.

"Girl, you look..." He nipped her bottom lip. "You look and taste better than Mrs. Weber's cherry pie," he said, since she was the most delicious thing he'd seen in ages.

"Mrs. Weber's? You don't say." A smile thinned her swollen lips as those sinfully dark eyes sparkled up at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

_And I'll take you any way I want._ Twisting her hair around his fingers, he pulled her head back. A slender, vulnerable neck arched, tempting his mouth. He gazed down at her. She fiercely stared back, waiting. The brazen, challenging response had him swelling against the loose fabric of his pants.

"You feel that?" he asked.

"What, you messing up my hair?" She gave her head a jerk. "Or..." Her legs squeezed around his waist. "...your cock pressing into my belly?"

His mouth turned up. This time, he didn't pull her to him, but he held her hair tightly, so she couldn't move .What he needed most was control. Her legs clung to him, and her head was trapped by his hair-holding hand. He wanted her to have no freedom, no chance to escape him. "Put your hands on me," he ordered.

"Where?" she breathed without an ounce of protest.

"I don't care," he growled. "Anywhere. Just touch me."

One hand grabbed his bicep, and sharp nails dug into his flesh. Hot blood shot to the tip of his already supercharged cock. Her other hand wrapped around the wrist attached to the hair-governing hand. She gently touched the point of his control, never pleading for release. The silent gesture was his proof that she wasn't going to back down from him or from his need to be in command, and that had excited him more than she would ever know.

Colden bent down and drank savagely from her mouth. He spun her around and carried her over to the table, where he set her ass down. "Lie back." He guided her by the hair until her back landed softy upon the table. He dropped a few kisses on her lithe neck. When he finally let go of her hair, it sprawled out on the table. His hands slid down her, lightly over her breasts, past her belly to her thighs. He stood up, pleased by her body's reactions. _So promising, so...compliant._ "You have grown into a beautiful woman, Dusty." With his hips pressing forward, he resumed the favorable position and nestled himself between her legs.

She gazed at him thoughtfully. "What are you going to do to me?"

He grinned, delighted by the question. Anticipation was a powerful thing, not to mention an aphrodisiac for someone like him. He laid the palm of his hands on her thighs. "What do you want me to do?" His fingers gently squeezed. "Maybe I'll do what you're supposed to do right here at this table."

"What's that?"

Lethal eyes slithered like a venomous snake down her body. "Maybe..." He looked up at her. "Maybe I'll eat you," he teased, his tongue salivating for her taste. "Or maybe I'll slip my hand between your legs, pull your panties to the side, and see just how hot you are there."

Holding his breath, he watched her hands fumble to his wrists. She wrapped small, slender fingers around them.

"You don't need to check. I'll tell you, St. James." Her eyelids lowered, and her voice thickened with desire. "I'm real, real hot down there."

His swollen cock pulsated against the material of his pants, begging to be closer to the hotness she claimed. He gazed down at her. A strong need beckoned in her deep brown eyes, but Colden caught a glimmer of fear in them too. "Right here." He rolled his hips, chafing her heat with his hardness. "It's real hot right in here, girl," he said in a steady tone.

The tremble in her hands upon his wrists confirmed his suspicions. She was hesitant.

Shit! I've gone too far. I just got here, for God's sake. He'd only just gained access to her home and her body. He didn't want her kicking him to the curb already. Flipping his hands, he snatched her by the wrists and pulled her up into a sitting position. Locks of dark hair spilled all around her porcelain face. She looked like a doll, with red lips and eyes like breakable glass, susceptible and fragile, sitting quietly and patiently, tempting and waiting to be played with.

He licked his lower lip, then bit it. Fuck. He wanted to feel her inner heat and then eat every last morsel of her, if not do both at the same time. Fill her with his finger while he sampled her with his tongue. Damn, he could have sworn his rod had grown another full inch. At full throttle, it hurt like hell, and he sought release. He glanced at her mouth, knowing those lush red lips could give him what he needed.

Was that a growl? He took a small step back from her. Did that come from me...or from her?

He drew a sharp breath. "Damn. It's real hot in here."

"Yes it is," she softly agreed with bated anticipation.

After noting the submission in her eyes, he capitulated to fear, the fear of trying to take her before she was ready. Sure, she was hot between the legs, but when he finally decided to take Dusty Owens, which he fully intended to do, Colden didn't want to detect a flicker of hesitance in her.

"I think the best and safest way to cool you down," he said, running his hands down her thighs as he pulled away, "is for me to go and fix that central air."

"Yeah." She nodded. "Maybe that's best right now," she choked out in barely a whisper.

# CHAPTER FOUR

Crouched down in front of the cooler, counting the beer bottles, Dusty couldn't stop thinking about Colden and the way he'd handled her on her counter and kitchen table. Her insides flushed with heat just thinking about it. The power and authority in his touch was just as she'd so vividly remembered it.

But if he wasn't married and off playing Daddy as some do-gooder Robocop in Georgia, what in the hell had he been doing, and where had he been doing it for the past six years? Whatever had happened to him from the night he'd taken her virginity to his recent return to town, something had changed him. It could have been the entire journey or a single instance, but Colden James was a different man.

The Saint wasn't the only one who had changed, for Dusty had grown up too. No longer was she that unmanageable teenager whose parents made a habit of ditching her every chance they got. The last time she'd seen them was when they'd dropped her off at her brother's in her junior year, before they'd jetted off to Paris. In her senior year, Dusty had moved out of her brother's and stayed with her favorite aunt in New York City, cursing poor Aunt Lulu with her relentlessness.

Dusty eventually learned to control her temper and now strived to find reason before shooting off her mouth. Being in the bar business didn't allow her the opportunity to be a hothead anymore. She had no time to put out her own fires, as she was too busy tending to others, like Sissy's constant infernos ignited by the younger James brother.

The wild chick Colden had left behind was gone, as was the scared girl who would never get too close, fearful that, like her parents and Sissy's mom and even her beloved Aunt Lulu had done, he'd leave her high and dry too. Even Matt, her brother, had abandoned her in some way, but she refused to think about Matt.

Instead of thinking she'd done something wrong to make her parents and Colden leave, instead of being angry with Sissy's mom and Aunt Lulu's death or hating Matt for not keeping in touch, Dusty had decided to try and accept things for what they were and move one, no matter how good or bad they turned out.

The problem with letting bygones be bygones was that Colden was back. Now, Dusty wanted to be that stubborn, closed-off, lonely girl again, if only to protect herself and spare herself the heartbreak of his little disappearing acts. He'd hurt her so bad the first time, and it had taken a long time to get over him

The first few years after he left, she'd tried to date, tried to convince herself that Colden, a boring do-gooder, didn't matter. They had nothing in common, but somehow, that look in his eyes when he pinned her against McAllister's fence. She couldn't get it out of her head. No one had ever made her feel so needed or wanted before, especially just by looking at her. In that epic moment, St. James had not only taken her virginity, but he'd also given something to Dusty. For the first time in her life, she'd felt wanted. Unfortunately, that wonderful feeling of belonging hadn't lasted long, as quickly as Colden had given it to her; he had taken it away by running off.

She'd thought she'd moved on, until Jimmy had told her that Colden was married. Once more, because of Colden, her heart had shattered. Unlike old man McAllister's fence, Colden wasn't around to fix it, and considering that he was married, she knew he never would be.

Now, all because she'd claimed to be unbeatable on that damn electric beast, for the next two weeks, she'd have the unmarried and very available Colden James staying with her—the only man who had the tools to fix her broken heart.

_Wait...is that it? Did the Saint come back to mend my heart?_ She shook her head at the ridiculous, unsafe thought. That naïve little girl inside her was best left in the past, just like her feelings for Colden. She couldn't allow herself to care, and she refused to be tempted to offer her heart to him again.

She placed her hand on top of the cooler to pull herself up. As she did, strong hands grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air. She screamed, glimpsed over her shoulder, and relaxed when she saw Travis, the beer truck delivery guy.

"Hey, Princess," he said in that low, deep Southern drawl.

Travis was a tad on the flirtatious side, but she knew the big ox was harmless. She'd always wished she could think of him differently, that he'd do something for her, but she just wasn't attracted to the man. He was built and good-looking, but still she felt nothing.

"Hi, Travis! Where have you been? You're a few days late," she said with a smile.

"Had some problems with the truck," he said, twirling her around for the usual bear hug.

From the corner of her eye, Dusty caught a flash of something large moving quickly toward them. Out of nowhere, Colden appeared. He'd scaled the bar, just placed his hands on the top of it and jumped. His legs lifted, and he cleared the counter with ease. A move she'd only seen in the movies. Instantly, he had Travis in a one-arm hold, with his body bent forward on the bar and his face pinned to the counter. As unbelievable as it was, Travis, the big, burly ox remained immobilized over the bar by Colden's strong grip.

"Colden!" She grabbed his arm, but the muscles beneath her fingers weren't about to disengage. She yanked on them anyway. "What the hell?"

From over his broad shoulder, Colden looked back at Dusty in disbelief. "What?" he said from a gnarled lip.

"Let go of him!" Dusty demanded.

One eyebrow rose higher than the other, and Colden appeared unbalanced and dangerously unhinged. "You know this guy?"

"Yes! He's one of our truck drivers. He delivers my beer!"

"But you screamed," Colden attested with another snarl.

"What? Let him go!" She hit his resilient arm, in spite of how intimidating he looked. She could be intimidating too. He was acting like a crazy, jealous boyfriend, and she wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"You screamed," he repeated, then slowly released the delivery man.

Travis stood up to his full height, looking at Colden like he was insane.

Colden's hand shot out and landed soundly on his chest, but he kept his eyes fixed on Dusty. "You did! I heard you," he said between clenched teeth.

Travis moved forward, and Colden's calculating eyes slid over to him. As tall as he was, Colden still had to tilt his head to look Travis in the eyes.

"Hey, I get it." Colden calmly lifted his hand from the man's chest but held it there in the air. He spoke softly so that no one else in the bar besides her and Travis could hear him. "Really, I do." He glared with certainty at Travis, who looked ready to trounce on Colden. "But believe me when I tell you that if you try it, I'll drop your ass on this floor just like I did on that bar, and you won't know what hit you first—my fist, my head, or my foot."

After a long stare-down, to Dusty's astonishment, Colden won.

Travis glanced over at her. "You all right, honey?"

"I'm okay." She touched his arm reassuringly, and Colden growled a little. She shot him her nastiest look. "It was just a misunderstanding, that's all," she said, more to Colden then to Travis. Colden looked madder than hell, but she didn't care. She turned back to Travis with a small smile.

He nodded, cast Colden one more hard look, then went back to the dolly to unload the cases of beer as though nothing had happened.

Yes, it had been a moronic maneuver, but Colden didn't give a shit. When he heard Dusty scream, adrenaline took over. It dictated his every move until he had her attacker pinned to the bar. _How was I to know it was the damn beer delivery guy?_ When he realized what was going on, that there was no imminent danger to her life, he'd tried to calm down, but two questions came to mind: _Who the fuck is this Travis guy...and why the hell does he think he can touch what's mine?_

"Shit, Colden! What's gotten into you? What did you think you were doing?"

He was protecting what was his, but he couldn't exactly tell Dusty that. She would kick his ass to the curb. He knew he was acting like a psycho. Showing up in the middle of the night, demanding to stay at her home, threatening to eat her, and trying to break up her relationship—or whatever it was—that she had going on with the beer man. "Who the hell is that guy?" he grumbled as Travis left the bar.

"Like I said, he's my beer delivery–"

"Wait just a damn minute." He lifted a hand. "Are you telling me you let all the delivery guys pick you up and manhandle you like—"

"Manhandle me? God, Colden, it was just a hug!" She whacked his hand away and fearlessly leaned in toward him. "A harmless one!"

Bending his head, he met her feisty glare. "Is he your boyfriend?"

Her head knocked back. "Who, Travis? No!"

Following her withdrawal, he arched over her. "Do you have one?"

She shot him a staggered look. "What do you care?"

She tried to push by him, but he wasn't about to let her run away. He stepped forward, and his long leg blocked her.

He gazed down into her furious eyes. "Oh, I care all right, Dusty."

She huffed, leaned back against the bar, crossed her arms, and turned away from him.

"See..." He touched her check and drew her face back to look at him, but the stubborn woman's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "The things I thought about doing to you last night, this morning, and right now..." Nervous eyes flashed back to him. Finally, he'd grabbed her attention. "I wouldn't want any other guy thinking about my girl that way. So answer me. Do you have a boyfriend or not?"

"What?" She gave him a hard poke in the chest. "Now, all the sudden, you have a conscience and are worried about some other guy's feelings? Screw you, St. James."

He moved forward, nudging a knee between her legs. His thighs straddled her leg. "No. I'm only concerned about you."

She sneered up at him.

He smiled back at her sassiness. "You can fight me all you want, girl, but neither me nor this..." He pressed closer, his hard cock making contact with her soft, pliable body. "We're not going anywhere anytime soon."

"But you and this..." She tilted her hips, and he almost groaned out loud when his throbbing erection slid against her. "... _will_ be going, won't it, St. James?" She gave him one last push, and he let her go.

The cut was intended to hurt, and it had. He got her point, loud and clear. Honestly, he couldn't guarantee her that he wouldn't be whisked off on another assignment anytime soon, but that was all part of being an undercover agent. It was, in fact, what had originally taken him away from her six years earlier.

At twenty-one, after he'd completed his training at the academy, Colden had gone to the Department of Homeland Security in Atlanta, Georgia for some training. From there, he was transferred to Detroit for an undercover assignment with Agent Kip Johnson. When his cover wasn't needed any longer, because they felt Kip, the more seasoned agent, was a better fit, they let Colden go. He returned home, never told anyone about his brush with the undercover work in Detroit, and decided to settle with a job as an officer in the local police department.

That's when he met Dusty. She'd just moved in with Sissy Milton and her recently widowed father. At eighteen, Dusty had been too young for Colden. She worked on him, though, for two years. The day after he'd finally broken and given into her, the FBI called to explain that Agent Johnson had been found in an alley, murdered, and they needed Colden in Detroit to try to slip back into his cover to work his way up to Kip's position as Riggs's right-hand man.

One day Colden was a local cop on his way to falling in love with a sexy, sassy, smart-ass twenty-year-old who still had a lot of growing up to do. The next, he was some guy named Johnny Wright, working his way up to being the right hand-man to an infamous gun smuggler, a man who bought weapons from crooked licensed dealers in Detroit and then sold them on the streets to drug-dealers, thugs, and psychopaths with vengeance on their minds. It took Colden a couple years to build up Johnny's reputation in the gun-smuggling community, but after he'd garnered Riggs's trust, he provided inside info and tips that the FBI could use to take down quite a few illegal operations.

Colden still worked for the Bureau, and his fate was not always his own. The truth was, he wasn't sure how long he was going to be in Odessa, and he knew he had no right to break back into Dusty's life and start claiming her as his, even if he did want to believe it was true.

"You ready?" Sissy impatiently asked on the other end of the cell phone.

"Yeah." Dusty shoved her bare foot into a sandal, excited for a night away from the confusion of Colden. She didn't want to think about the scene he'd made at the bar with Travis or try to read anything into it. Instead, she convinced herself that she didn't care.

"You're wearing a dress, right? Like I told you, it's not some greasy spoon. We're going to kind of a fancy place, and—"

"Yes, Sissy, a dress—that black one with the one-shoulder strappy thingy." Dusty glanced in the mirror and noticed the star tattoo under her left eye, a souvenir from one of her impulsive, crazy moments during her senior year in New York. From a distance, it sort of resembled a mole. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly in a Marilyn Monroe, sexy way, but it certainly added character to her pale face.

She grabbed her purse and started to head out to the living room, then stopped. Colden was standing there in a modern, fitted suit coat with dark jeans and a t-shirt. He looked clean, confident, and crisp, extra freaking crispy. His dark brown hair was a fashionable length but a little messy, with the lighter flyaway tips giving him a devil-may-care appearance.

"Good. I like that dress," Sissy said into the phone, interrupting Dusty's mouth-agape stare, "and can you make sure Colden's ready!"

"Oh, he's ready." Dusty smirked at the phone. "But you didn't tell me you invited him." She hit her purse against her thigh and turned from the compelling creature standing with a bitch of a grin on his handsome face. She lowered her voice. "I thought it was just going to be you and me, a girls' night out."

"Yeah, sorry about that, but after last night, Jimmy wouldn't take no for an answer. He says he wants to make it up to me, so I figured I'd ask Colden too. I know Jimmy wants to hang out with his best man. Oh yeah. Now that Colden's back for the wedding, you'll be walking down the aisle with him. Anyway, I figured since he's staying with you—and you'll need to explain _that_ to me later—you wouldn't mind if he came along." Sissy stopped to take a breath. "We'll be there in five. Chow, baby!"

_Click_. The line went dead.

Dusty had tried to teach her little cousin tact, but Sissy had never been one to grasp such things. "Chow," Dusty muttered under her breath and clicked off her cell.

She stole another peek over at Colden, who was looking at her the way a starving man might peruse a menu in a fine restaurant. She was tempted to just get it over with, to walk into the kitchen, lie down on the table, and lift her dress so he could start in on the appetizer. The image drew her hips back, and her thighs clenched. _Hot damn!_ Colden James knew how to make her pussy hurt with nothing more than a stroke from those sexy green eyes.

Colden wished he'd worn a blazer that would actually button, because he was in dire need of some coverage. He'd been walking around with a semi-stiffy since Dusty had exited her bedroom. She was eye-poppingly gorgeous in that dress, and there was something about the way the thin straps of her sandals wrapped around her willowy ankles that reminded him of her delicate fingers around his wrists during their kitchen interlude. It was submissive, in a way, and a total turn-on.

"Well? What do you think?" Sissy said.

By the way her voice filtered to his ears, Colden assumed the question was directed at him. With a chin resting in his hand, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at his soon-to-be sister-in-law. He'd always liked Sissy. She was a tad on the needy side for him, but it seemed to amuse Jimmy, who was quite tolerant of it.

"Do you like the place?" she probed. "Think we should have the rehearsal dinner here?" She turned to Dusty on his left, wanting her input too.

"It's perfect," Dusty promptly responded with a smile. Unlike him, who was fighting the distracting threat of a raging hard-on.

Colden shifted in his seat. _Yeah, like that's gonna help!_ "Foods good," he managed to get out.

"The steak was great," Jimmy said, patting his belly.

Colden glanced over at his little brother, who now resembled a man and was about to be married. _Where has the time gone?_

Sissy turned to Colden. "Are you sure it's not too expensive?"

"Like I told you, it's my gift to you two," he said with a smile, ignoring the hole Dusty's eyes were burning into him.

"You're paying for the rehearsal dinner?" she blurted, curiosity apparently getting the best of her.

"Yep! Can you believe it?" Sissy announced with a clap of the hands. "The rehearsal dinner and the bachelor party." She broke into another clap, then stopped and gave Jimmy a warning look. "And you'd better behave." She turned back to Dusty with a smile. "Not to mention, he's sending us to the Caribbean, to Punta Cana! I've never been on an island, let alone a Caribbean one. Yay!" Then she clapped three more quick claps.

The burning hole grew bigger, but Colden didn't dare look at Dusty. The one-eyed monster was starting to crawl back under the bed, and he shifted in the chair to nudge it along.

"That's real generous of you, St. James," Dusty asserted.

"It's the least I can do." He picked up his beer, tilted it in cheers to Sissy and Jimmy, and took a sip. Besides Dusty glaring at him with that fiery stare, he had money burning a hole in his pocket too. Working undercover for so long, he hadn't had time to spend it.

"The least you can do? Why? To make up for being gone for past six years?" Dusty mumbled under her breath.

"Cut the guy some slack, Dusty. He woulda been here if he could have," Jimmy said in defense of his older brother. "He was workin' for the government, and—"

"Hey!" Colden cut in. "We're not here to talk about me. We're here to celebrate your wedding." He winked at Sissy, bidding her to change the subject.

"We are," Sissy agreed with a smile, then folded her hands together on the table, "but I think for all of us to move on tonight, we need to address just where you've been." Her eyes slipped from Dusty to Colden, demanding an answer.

_Damn it!_ Colden silently cursed, angry that Sissy had just tossed him under the bus.

Dusty turned to him and grinned.

Make that a damn eighteen-wheeler!

"Yeah. Maybe Jimmy would care to explain why he told me you were married and had three kids."

"Shame the devil and tell the truth! You said _that_?" Sissy shot Jimmy a shocked look, then quickly turned back to Dusty. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

Dusty shrugged. "I really didn't care."

"No?" Colden craned his neck and leaned in toward her to detain those fuming brown eyes. "Then why are we even talking about it?"

Thin, annoyed eyebrows slanted inward. "Where have you been, Colden?" Dusty huffed.

"It's no big deal." Jimmy sighed. "He's a government agent. He's been working in Atlanta, Georgia for the ATF, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, and, uh..."

"Explosives," Colden finished for his little brother, never once taking his focus from Dusty.

"Yeah, but don't be fooled by the title," Jimmy said. "He really just sits on his butt all day, a regular desk jockey. Right, Colden?"

He nodded rather than spewing another verbal lie. As far as his family knew, that was exactly what Colden had been up to, even if it couldn't have been further from the truth.

"Then why the lies and secrets about where you've been?" Dusty challenged, the smart girl in her, clearly not buying it.

Jimmy was again quick to save him. "It's a Homeland Security thing. As for the fib about the wife and kids...well, that was my fault, something I made up. It was either that or the Army or...hey, bro, what was the other choice?"

"Cabana boy," Colden responded, still not backing down from Dusty's debatable expression.

Jimmy let out a full-bellied laugh. "Right. Who woulda believed that? A James brother walkin' around handing out towels."

"Still," Dusty whispered, "you shouldn't have tried to hide your desk job." She looked away.

Colden reached for her hand under the table, an unexpected movement that whiplashed her head back to him. Before she could mask it, he caught the flash of hurt in her eyes. His heart broke a little when he found that the injury he'd inflicted had caused her small hand to ball into a fist. He placed his large palm over it and gently squeezed. "You gotta believe me, girl. I would've stayed if I could have, Dusty."

# CHAPTER FIVE

Dusty wanted to believe him. She wanted to know what trust looked like in the new Saint's eyes. She wanted to understand. The trouble was, none of it made any sense. There was no reasonable explanation for his quick getaway six years ago. If Jimmy was finally telling the truth, it only validated that Colden really hadn't felt anything for her—at least not enough to keep him from moving to Georgia to push some papers around behind a desk for the government.

"Slow down, girl," Colden shouted, catching up with her on the stairs that led to the balcony.

After dinner, Sissy had an appointment to visit the old opera house. Beautifully restored, it was the perfect venue for their ceremony and reception. It wasn't a large place, but it would comfortably fit a couple hundred people.

"I didn't ask you to follow me," Dusty snapped as she walked to the balcony railing and looked down at Sissy and Jimmy, who were speaking with the owner.

With his back to them, Colden rested his ass easily against the railing. The jacket was gone, and when he crossed his arms over his chest, strong biceps and tattoos teased Dusty's eyes. "Just admit it. You want me." A crooked grin tugged on his lip.

Dusty glared at him from the corner of her eye. "Okay." She gripped the railing and swayed back. "Yes, once I wanted you— _once_. But like I said, let's not dwell on the past. I'm _so_ over you, St. James."

The smug son-of-a-bitch's smile broadened. He shook his head. "I'm _so_ not convinced, Dusty girl," he said with sparkling, playful eyes.

"Stop calling me that!"

"What?" He arched a badly behaving eyebrow. "Girl?"

"Yes!"

"Well, you are one, aren't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Oh, I get it," he rudely interrupted. "Too generic? How 'bout I call you, uh...my pretty girl? Would you like that?"

In false protest, her nose and forehead scrunched. But she could already see it. The minute that little fawning left his sexy mouth, she'd drop to her knees, ready to give the man whatever he wanted.

"No?" He rubbed his chin and released a low, sexy, "Hmm." A second later, he lifted an a-ha finger. "Tough girl?"

Her entire face flushed with heated anger.

He grimaced. "Don't like that either?" His eyes hooded. "I know what kind of girl you are."

She snorted _. This oughtta be good_. "Yeah? And what kind of girl am I?"

"A bad girl," he huskily drawled. "You want to be my bad girl, don't you?"

"No!" _Oh God, yes!_ _Who wouldn't want to be his bad... anything?_ The new and improved St. James was hot, and her knees where already begging to hit the floor for him. _Shake it off, bad girl. Just, shake it the hell off!_

"Come over here." An arm wrapped around her waist. "C'mon." He dragged out the words as he dragged her up to his side. "It's all good. You can be my bad girl anytime, Dusty Owens."

When he bent his head down, warning bells went off in her addled brain. Sissy and Jimmy could see them from where they were standing. She veered back, her hand pressing into his shoulder, "Colden!"

"Don't be so skittish." His lips turned up, and his grip tightened. "Where's that brazen girl? Where's the girl who showed up at Rusty's Tavern with Britt Weber, the player of all plays?"

Her eyes widened. _Is he really going to bring up that night?_

"And after a slow, naughty bull ride performance in a very slinky white dress, I might add, that bad girl dirty danced with the scumbag."

He even remembers my dress? God.

"Where's that brazen girl who took a huge risk, hoping I'd come to her rescue and save her from the sleazebag?"

The night flooded into her brain, Colden pulling her out of Britt Weber's truck. Him punching Britt, who was twelve years her senior, right in the face, and Colden chasing after her and catching up with her at old man McAllister's fence. Crazy for him, her attempt at making Colden jealous had worked. She'd tried to keep him hot by picking a fight, but Colden hadn't taken the bait. Without saying a word, he'd just walked up to her and kissed her hard, a kiss he didn't break until they broke McAllister's fence—until she'd surrendered her virtue and her heart to him.

"So? Where's that bad girl now?" he provoked.

Dusty shook her head and told him the truth. "She grew up." She knew it was immature to try to make Colden jealous back then. He wasn't a kid. He was a man, and he had shown her that night just what kind of man he was, the kind she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

"Nah." Sturdy fingers pressed into her hipbone. "I think she's still in there. She just needs some coaxing to come out and play." He leaned in and huskily taunted, "Come out, come out, wherever you are! Be my bad girl and admit you wanna play."

"In your dreams, St. James. Why don't you get over yourself? I've already told you that I don't feel anything for you—not anymore," she lied, trying to save herself.

"I don't believe you." His eyes wickedly twinkled with the statement.

"I don't really care what you believe."

"Take your panties off."

As angry as he was making her, her body had to respond to the command, and every muscle froze. "What?"

"If they're bone dry," he said, tilting to the left and dropping his voice, "I'll believe you."

"Colden, look where we are, for God's sake. You're crazy if you think I'm gonna—"

He tilted slightly closer, his eyes dark and daring. "Take them off."

"I-I can't," she mumbled, hypnotized by his captivating, intent look and even more stunned by the crazy demand.

"Why?" The corner of his mouth lifted. "Oh, right." His smile grew bigger. "Don't worry. I don't mind getting my hand a little wet."

_What? Absolutely incorrigible!_ "You're an ass."

"Well, if that's not your excuse, what is?"

"Besides the obvious, it's a rude a request." She smirked at him. _Yeah, that's right, buddy. Two can play at this game._ "I can't give them to you because..." She inched closer to his tempting mouth. "I'm not wearing any." Unable to ignore the pleasure she got from seeing the astonishment light up his eyes, her smile grew too.

"Damn, girl." He exhaled, letting out a very noticeable whistle. His hand slid slowly down her hip, as if to confirm her claim, then roamed to her backside. "Do you know what a statement like that can do to a guy?"

"Again, I don't care."

"Well then, let's make you care..." Colden's talented fingers walked her dress up the side of her hip. Once her entire right leg was exposed, his hand slipped beneath the material. He didn't take his time but went straight to the apex of her legs and cupped her with his warm palm.

Dusty!" Sissy yelled from below just as Colden's finger slithered between her wet folds and passed over her clitoris.

Dusty gripped the railing, biting back any verbal response, grateful for the high wall that was hiding what Colden was doing to her.

Glancing over his shoulder, Colden looked down at Sissy and smiled. Without turning away, he quietly said, "Dusty, lift your hand."

She followed his orders. His thumb ran over her sensitive nub, and her knees bent a little.

"Now wave to your cousin," he said.

Again, like a marionette, Dusty abided.

"Ah. Being a good girl?" he mused as she looked over at his smiling profile. "I like that too." The wicked grin revealed laugh lines in the corners of his eye. He had his hand up her dress, his fingers on her tender flesh. Arrogant or not, Colden James was magnificent.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Sissy shouted up to them.

Colden turned to Dusty, and she was glad he was holding her in all the right places, because everything from the neck down was ready to let go.

"Now..." His finger found the berth of her heat, and he gently probed her. "Open that sexy mouth of yours and answer your cousin."

She batted her eyes, trying to let reality back in. "Yeah," she squeaked, then cleared her throat and looked down at Sissy. "Yes, it's...perfect!"

Colden's finger slipped into her. "So very, very perfect," he rasped. He withdrew, then slowly dipped back in a little farther, just as Sissy turned away—just in time for Dusty to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from crying out in pleasure. He pushed deeper, the thickness of his finger stretching and filling her.

Her head dropped onto his shoulder, and his sex-filled scent entered her entire body. "Damn, girl. You're so tight." He held his finger inside of her, his palm pressing into her pubic bone. "It's been a while, huh?"

His hot breath bathed her naked shoulder as she watched Sissy and Jimmy walk out the front doors without a backward glance, probably to check out the patio. She didn't care where they were going. She was just relieved they were leaving. She let out a small moan, beckoning Colden's finger to move inside of her.

"Yes, a very long time." She was surprised she'd found her voice as her hips relentlessly sought the talent of his touch.

He responded by rolling the pad of his thumb over the hood of her clitoris a few times before sliding two thick fingers into her. From the inside out, she conformed to his fit. Squeezing her hip, he held her firm as he withdrew, then thrust back in with a little more force. She moved with his fingers, her body silently begging for him never to stop.

"How long?" he half-growled, fingers plunging deeper, rougher. "How long, Dusty?"

"Oh, God! Colden, too long," she hissed. She needed him, and as she gripped his strong biceps, her nails dug into his shirt. Her hips rotated, pleading for more.

Something tugged and pulled deep inside of her. _His finger? Is he really curling it inside of me?_ _Oh my God!_ She was going to die right there. He was reaching places that had never been touched before, and the odd motion was doing crazy things to her body. Each jolt, like jumper cables, sparked her neglected desires back to life.

Suddenly, Colden stopped. His talented fingers stilled. He bit her naked shoulder, and she heard him take a noisy deep breath. "Dusty," his tone insistent. "How long?"

She couldn't see his eyes, and she wasn't sure whether he'd figured it out or if she'd again underestimated Colden's jealousy. She was sure of one thing. He had no right to give a shit about who she'd been with in the past six years. The trouble was, she hadn't been with anyone. So, to get his magical fingers working again, she decided to go with the truth. She propped her chin on his broad shoulder. "Six years, Colden. It's been six years."

The muscles in his shoulder rolled under her chin. He arched his back, and his dark eyes looked down at her. His mouth was partly opened, and she wanted to kiss it. "Are you trying to tell me..." he said, then cleared his throat. "Are you sayin' you haven't been with a man since me, Dusty girl?"

In need of cheat codes, something to help her understand the play on Colden's beautiful face, Dusty's feet fidgeted. _What's that look supposed to mean?_ She couldn't tell if he was angry, surprised, or disappointed that she was still so inexperienced.

His fingers left her, and he grabbed her by the arms and gave her a little shake. "Answer me!" The edginess in his voice made his feelings clear. He was angry.

"No!" she wailed, wanting to let him know he was hurting her.

"So there's been no one else?"

"No! No one else, Colden!" She tried to shove his brutish ass away.

He grabbed her by the wrist and started to pull her toward the stairs. Her plan to seize the interrogation had worked, but she quickly noted her error, because she really needed him to sedate the itch he had caused between her legs. She couldn't believe he was hauling her back downstairs.

A few feet before they made it to the top step, Colden twirled her around and pushed her back. His forearm hit the wall, trapping her in the hidden corner. Hard muscles pressed into her as an aggressive knee nudged between her legs. With his nostrils flaring and his chest puffing, he gazed down at her, his eyes darkened with desire. Just as his finger had done, the powerful effects of his expression reached right inside and gave her a tug. "I want you, Dusty. I wanted you six years ago, and I want you right now. I'm not afraid to say it." He kissed her hard, and when he pulled away, her lips felt bruised, but it was a good kind of hurt. "I'm gonna give you one more chance to admit the truth, to admit that you want me just as badly."

"Okay." She breathed and lifted her chin, looking up into his demanding eyes. "Fine!" she huffed. "I wanted you then...and I want you right now!"

In the past six years, Colden had seen some pretty horrible things. As the months rolled by, he'd been privy to the devil's handiwork. He'd encountered strung-out druggies, heartless and ruthless criminals of every ilk, and even a few dead bodies. He'd also seen piles of illegally purchased guns being dispensed into the streets, weapons he'd had to leave behind. He knew in his gut that some of them were going to be responsible for killing an innocent bystander during some drive-by, a homeowner during a burglary-gone-bad, or a cop in the heat of a crime.

What Colden couldn't grasp was that during those six hellishly long years, through all the evil he'd faced on a daily bases, one thing had remained pure and untouched, Dusty Owens. So, when Dusty admitted that she hadn't been with another and that she indeed still wanted him, it took every ounce of Colden's strength not to give himself to her, not to sink himself into all of her untouched purity. After so many years, he refused to take her under such rushed circumstances. But even if he planned to deny himself Dusty Owens, he wasn't a selfish man. He was more than willing to alleviate the passion he drew from her imploring eyes.

He brushed his mouth over hers. "Damn, how I've missed you, Dusty girl," he said, capitulating to the truth. "The way you move. The way you smell. And the way you drive me absolutely crazy with my want for you." He rested his forehead against hers, looked up and found surrender in her eyes. He felt her deep inside of him, dwelling in his heart. "Oh yeah. I've missed you real bad." His hand reached for the hem of her dress, and he clenched it. "Kiss me," he moaned against her lips.

She sweetly complied urgently sipping him with her soft red mouth.

"Touch me." He couldn't wait any longer. He had to feel her skin against his. "Put your hands in my shirt."

Without breaking from the kiss, she fumbled with his shirt until the warmth of her touch seeped straight through to his bones. She caressed his chest, sides, and stomach.

"Now," he heaved his mouth from hers, "be my bad girl and tell me you want my hand up your skirt."

Not disappointing him, she leaned forward, rubbed her small, hard breasts against his chest, causing the rigid flesh in his jeans to pulsate, and she purred, "Please put your hand up my skirt."

His cocked stiffened. His fingers released their grip on the dainty fabric of her dress and slid between her thighs.

Her eyes dilated with desire. "Higher," she breathed. "Colden, go higher."

That was all the encouragement he needed. Slowly, he glided up the softness of her inner thigh until he discovered the heat he'd abandoned minutes ago, when they were at the balcony. He cupped it with his palm. "Pull your top down."

Without a shred of hesitation, she removed a hand from his shirt. Viewing him from under heavy lids, she slowly dragged her top down until one pert nipple popped free of its textile constraints.

His eyes shot down to the irresistible little pink bud. The beating of his heart quickened, and there was so much he wanted to do to her in that moment.

"Colden," she said in a throaty, unrecognizable voice. Surprising him again, she thrust her chest out. "Kiss me."

His eyes followed hers. Holding his breath, he watched as her finger slipped down and lightly ran over her pink, erect nipple.

Her eyes lifted. "Right here," she said in a ragged breath. "Kiss me right here, Colden."

The erotic action had made all of his man parts go hard. A resemblance of a growl rumbled in his chest just before he latched his mouth around the tight pink tip she'd begged him to pleasure. Punishing her for the tease, he thrust his middle finger deep inside of her and bit the hard peak, scraping and taunting her with his teeth.

She took the punishment like a good girl. Her fingers tangled in his hair. With her back arched, she pulled him closer.

Probing, he searched until he found it, the hot button. So concentrated he'd been on reaching that goal that he hadn't noticed her hand moving down to the waist of his jean—or if he had, he'd subconsciously dismissed it. He felt the release of his button, then heard the _hiss_ of his zipper. Her hand reached right inside and wrapped around his cock.

"No, Dusty!"

"Yes, Colden."

When her tight grip glided down and then back up his rigid flesh, every goosebump in his body shot to life. A few more of those, and he was sure he'd spill himself all over her hand, like some love-struck teenager.

"No, not like this! _"_ He knew he'd never be truly satisfied with a hand-job. Sure, it would get the job done, but their time was limited, and rushed sex against the wall was out of the question. Rationalizing that he was a disciplined Federal agent and could wait, Colden grabbed her defiant hand, pinned it to the wall above her head, and went back to concentrating on the pressure point hidden deep inside her. Her eyes rolled back, her body flinched, and she moaned, a damn good indication that he'd found the buried treasure again. Dropping his mouth back onto her nipple, curling his long finger inside of her, he hit the spot again and again.

"Oh...wait..." She pushed at him with her hand. "Oh no! Colden, it's too much. I...Colden!" She squirmed beneath him, trying to fight back her release.

"Put your hand over your head," he ordered as her hips grinded into him. "Do it, Dusty!"

She rocked wildly against his hand but obeyed.

"Good." He pumped harder into her and bit her nipple. "That's a good girl." He nipped her harder.

"But, Colden, I need to...to..." Glossy black eyes blazed down at him.

"I know what you need and I'm going to give it to you, sweetheart."

"But," she fidgeted beneath his hold, thrusting her body against his.

"Don't move," he instructed. "We don't have much time here, but I want to take care of you. Just hold still, or I'm gonna have to stop. You got me?"

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. Her body surrendered beneath his command.

"That's it," he coaxed, sucking her nipple and pumping his finger faster. "Relax and let it go. Just let go, my pretty girl."

"No! Oh no! Not that. No..." she moaned, her head thrashing.

"What, pretty girl?" He tested again, and she responded wildly. He smiled. "Dusty Owens, you're full of surprises. Perhaps you're not such a bad girl after all." He reached up with his mouth and nibbled her bottom lip. "Maybe all you really want is to be my pretty girl."

"Col..." She tried to cry out his name as her body convulsed against him. Distinguishing the look on her beautiful face, he rolled his wet thumb over her clitoris, quickened the thrust of his middle finger, and pulled her head down into his shoulder to muffle the sound as she finally let go.

"That's it. Cum for me, my pretty girl." He continued to rub, probe, and hold her close against him until she wept her last cry, until the trembling subsided, until her breathing finally evened out. She fell into his body, and he wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly, knowing in his heart that eventually, once again, he'd have to let her go.

# CHAPTER SIX

Dusty stood on the porch holding her purse, caught in a daze. Sure, she was home, but part of her was still trapped up on that balcony, enjoying a long-overdue orgasm, courtesy of the Saint's wickedly talented hand. The pleasure maker hadn't gone away either. He was close. She could feel the heat of his presence tracing her backside.

Sissy waved at her as Jimmy's car backed out of the driveway.

Colden's hand gently swept across Dusty's naked back as he pulled her hair aside. Every nerve in her body danced from the touch. The cool night air caressed her skin just before his voice rasped, hot and low and right into her ear, "Dusty girl, lift your hand and wave goodbye to your cousin."

Again she obeyed Colden's smooth command. Her hand rose to bid farewell to Sissy and Jimmy as they pulled away from the house, leaving her alone with the manipulator of her every movement. As the car disappeared from the road, she wanted to turn around and face Colden, to confront him, to inform him that what happened back at the opera house was a one-time thing. He'd broken her heart six years ago, and Dusty would be damned if he'd get the chance to do it again—a tidbit, of course, that she'd never tell him. She didn't need him to know how bad he'd hurt her or how much power he truly had over her.

But the chance to clear the air escaped her when she felt the warmth of Colden's lips touch her bare shoulder. Hot shivers flowed through her body. The feel of his feathery lips moved up her neck. Falling under his seductive spell, she arched to give him better access. His hot breath passed over her ear, and his skilled tongue followed close behind. Another eruption of heat rolled over her skin. It rippled to her brain and ignited her badly behaving hormones, again producing a wetness between her legs.

She'd thought the orgasm in the opera house would've sedated her neglected hormones for a while, fat chance. They were reproducing like crazy, begging for more. Her lack of panties only intensified the awareness of what Colden James could do to her with nothing more than a kiss. She had to get away from his hot breath, gifted lips, and manipulative words.

Turning from him, she searched for the keys in her purse and hurriedly began making her way to the door. Colden had let her go. A small part of her wished he hadn't. She stopped to insert the key but the door creaked open.

Before Dusty could figure out if she'd forgotten to lock it, Colden had pushed her away from it. One strong hand pinned her to the house while the other reached down and pulled a gun from his pant leg _._

_Wait...Colden has...a gun? Oh my God_! _He's been armed all this time?_

"What the—"

Before she could finish the sentence, the hand that was holding her to the house shifted up and covered her mouth.

He pressed himself against her, and a finger fell over his lips. The firmness in his eyes hushed her. He twisted around and did a quick inspection of their surroundings before he glanced over his shoulder. "Take your shoes off," he ordered in a low whisper.

"What?"

"As sexy as they are," he said, with a slow grin spreading over his face, "they make too much noise. Take 'em off."

Not about to argue, she reached down and slipped off her sandals.

"Good girl." He winked, but then his tone turned grave and serious. "Now grab my shirt and hold on. No matter what happens, don't let go."

He waited until she gave him an affirmative nod. Something had changed in him. No longer was he the playful cocky St. James. He reeked of competence and fearlessness, a tower of indestructible strength. He turned from her and, using both hands, lifted the gun. His biceps puffed out, and the ink stretched across his tan skin. The way he held the gun hinted that Colden was no stranger to handling the weapon.

Do all paper-pushers get a gun? Do the Feds train their desk agents too? Maybe they do, just in case the agent is ever needed out in the field. That was the only reason she could fathom why Colden looked so capable with the gun.

As he slowly moved toward the door, she decided she was thankful for the government's investment in proper training. She was sure he was overreacting and that no intruders were there, as Odessa was a quiet town and with a low, nearly nonexistent crime rate, but there was something comforting about having him there to protect her, just in case. She'd been so distracted by Colden's smoldering good looks that she was sure she'd forgotten to lock the door behind her. Even if someone was inside, though, Dusty had to admit she felt damn safe going in with Colden.

She grasped his t-shirt and tried to stay in synch with Robocop as they entered her living room. With each calculated step, in steady hands, the gun swept the place.

As they walked farther, through the room and into the hallway, Colden stopped. Tension seemed to be dripping from the air around them like a thick, humid fog. He circled the area with astute eyes, then brought his gaze back to her. He nodded his head toward the sofa and mouthed, "Over there." He then turned from her and concentrated on something in the hallway.

Dusty didn't linger. Apparently, whatever had caught Colden's attention had inspired him to send her away, and as he'd said, no matter what, she wasn't supposed to let go of his shirt. She stood by the sofa, the fabric held in a white-knuckled grasp.

Colden glanced at her, and his brow furrowed. "Get behind it!" he mouthed.

As if she could read his mind, she shot him a vicious look and shimmied between the wall and the couch.

His eyes darkened. "Down!" His upper lip curled with the voiceless word.

Dusty could have sworn she'd heard a bark in that silent growl. She crouched, lowering to the floor, until all she could see was the back of the sofa.

A few seconds slowly ticked by, and then there was a _click_.

"Don't make a move, DeSanto," Colden's voice casually advised, calling the intruder by name.

"All right, all right. You got me, Johnny," the unfamiliar voice snidely responded.

_Johnny? Who's Johnny? Is there somebody else in here?_ Confused and frightened, Dusty reached for the top of the sofa. She was tempted to sneak a peek over it, but convinced herself to stay put, since Colden had seemed pretty adamant about her staying down.

"Lower your gun to the floor!"

There was a pause.

"Good. Now push it away from you."

The _swoosh_ of metal sliding across the tile floor hit Dusty's ears.

"Now lift your hands and stand up."

There was another pause and a bit of scuffling around.

"Move!" Colden said in a commanding manner, a tone quite different than the one he used to have Dusty at his beck and call.

While she wasn't able to see what was going on, Dusty sensed that something was terribly wrong. In that moment, she had to question just who the hell Colden James really was. He had a gun, for Christ's sake! A freaking gun! And he had it strapped on the entire time he was out to dinner! It dawned on her that even while his hand had been nestled between her legs, the barrel of that weapon had only been inches away. What reason could he possibly have had to carry that thing into the restaurant?

She began to ponder what she really knew about Colden. She'd been naïve enough to think she could trust him, but he'd been gone for six whole years, and there was no doubt that he'd changed. She didn't know the man who was standing in her house holding a gun, the man who had obviously brought trouble to her sanctuary. And now there was not just one gun in her home but two, the one Colden was holding and the one the intruder had brought with him.

But who was this intruder anyway, and what did he want? Was Colden into something...illegal? Regardless, she couldn't stick around to find out. The first chance she got, Dusty had to get out of there, to get as far away as she could from Colden.

"Stop! Yeah, hold it right there." The sound of Colden's voice was close. "Don't move. Don't even twitch. You got me, DeSanto?"

"Yeah, Johnny. I got ya," the stranger said, clearly unaware of Colden's real name.

Again, Dusty was confused by the alias. She bit her lower lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, wondering what the answers were to all her sudden questions.

"Dusty, come on out."

She wanted to jump up from behind the couch and run away. It took a great deal of mental effort for her to get up slowly. Once she was on her feet, she took in the scene. She'd never laid eyes on the man Colden was holding at gunpoint.

The scruffy man with the greased-back hair smiled at her, a creepy grin if there ever was one.

Without taking his eyes off the intruder, Colden said, "Go to my room, grab my duffle bag, and then go pack yourself a bag, enough clothes for a few days."

Baffled, she just stared at him. She wondered if he planned to kidnap her. The fear of creepy strange guy and the even stranger Colden, aka Johnny, was quickly overturned by a raging anger that snapped her backbone straight. She was done taking orders. She wanted answers, and there was no way she was going anywhere with Colden, especially not anyplace far enough away to require that she pack a bag. "I'll do no such thing! In fact, I'm not doing anything until you tell me who this man is, who Johnny is, and what the hell is going on here!"

"We don't have time for this." Colden's eyes shifted to her. "Just do what I say."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "No!"

"If you don't, I'll be forced to do it myself. Then, to keep you safe, I'll have to shoot him." Colden's arms straightened as he aimed the gun.

"You wouldn't!" she shrieked, panicking at the idea of a man being shot in her home.

"Uh, yeah, lady...this guy would," the intruder stuttered. "Please just go get the bags."

She ignored creepy-guy and focused on Colden. "What's wrong with you? You'd kill some guy in my home just because I refuse to do what you ask?" She couldn't believe it or him. He was definitely not the do-gooder who had left Odessa six years earlier.

"You're right." Colden grimaced. "It'd make it hard for you to live here if I killed somebody right in the middle of your living room, wouldn't it?" He shrugged. "I'll just maim him then, maybe shoot 'im in the leg." He turned back to the man. "I'm feeling generous, DeSanto. You choose. Left or right?"

"Aw, man! C'mon, lady!" creepy-guy pleaded.

Dusty just stood there with her mouth agape, not sure what to do or say.

"Please just do what he says. Just go get the bags. I need both of my legs, lady!"

Colden glanced at her. "He thinks he'll need them to run when he tries to escape, but believe me, sweetheart, he's not going anywhere." He arched an eyebrow. "So what's it gonna be, Dusty? You gonna be a good girl and let this guy keep both of his legs, or are you still feeling a little naughty today? Either way, those bags are going to be out here in about three minutes. It's up to you who goes to get them, me or you."

The resolute look in his eyes convinced Dusty that he wasn't bluffing, that he had every intention of following through with the threat. So to save the creepy-guy's limb, she clenched her hands and stomped off to get the bags. A few minutes later, she huffed loudly and dropped the bags on the floor. "There. Satisfied?" she snapped.

Colden's cocky smile infuriated her further. "Not quite yet, Dusty girl. I need some rope."

She opened her mouth to tell him exactly where he could go, but she couldn't get a word out before he cut her off.

"Uh-uh," he said, silencing her with cautionary eyes. "There's no need to argue with me about this. If you don't do it, the end result will be the same. Just be a good girl and get me the rope...and be quick about it."

Dusty walked out to the garage to look for the rope. She thought about running, but worried if she tried, Colden would have no other choice but to shoot the man so he could chase after her. She'd have to wait for another opportunity, after Colden tied the man up, as she was assuming that was why he wanted with the rope. Still angry, she entered the living room and tossed the rope at his feet.

"Thanks." He bent down, picked up the rope, and threw it at the intruder. "Tie up your feet...and make it nice and tight now."

Without any protest, as if he knew that trying to fight Colden would be a losing battle, creepy-guy did as he was told.

"Come over here, Dusty," Colden said, keeping his weapon leveled at DeSanto. "It's okay." He looked at her from over his shoulder. "I'm not gonna hurt you. C'mere."

She stared at him, reluctant to believe another word he said.

Once the intruder's feet were secured by the rope, Colden turned to her again. "Okay, here." He stretched out his arm, offering her the gun. "Take it."

The offer coerced her feet to slowly walk toward him.

"Do you know how to use a gun?"

She nodded. Mechanical bull-riding wasn't her only hobby. From time to time, she was known to go shooting with Odessa's six-pack of heartbreaking hellions. She reached out and took the gun from Colden.

"I'm gonna tie up his hands. If he makes a move, don't think twice. Just shoot. Got it?"

Again, she nodded. She tightly clenched the grip in her hand as Colden turned to tend to the intruder. She glanced down to inspect the gun, gazing at what might be her only opportunity for escape.

"He's gonna find you, Agent James," DeSanto taunted as Colden wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving no doubt that his cover had been blown.

"No he won't." Colden yanked on the knot, tightening it, and DeSanto winced. "'Cause when they come for you, you're gonna tell them where he is." He reached down and checked the rope around his ankle. "If you don't," he said, looking up at DeSanto sternly, "you'll have to deal with me." Colden glanced over at Dusty, who was trying to listen to their conversation. He kept his voice low when he turned back to DeSanto. "And next time, she won't be around to save your sorry ass." He tugged on the rope one last time. "There. He's not going anywhere."

Relieved finally to have the threat on Dusty's life all tied up, Colden put his hands on the floor to get up, twisted around, and stopped when he saw his own gun aimed right at him. He smiled, pleased that his tough girl hadn't let him down. He'd scared her by threatening to kill the man in the middle of her living room, and he knew he should have realized that before he handed his weapon over, but he couldn't chance DeSanto getting loose and going for her. All things considered, he'd had no other choice. Colden had to give her the gun so she could protect herself.

"You're not going anywhere either, Colden." Her hand was steady, but her voice shook with each word. "Now grab the rope and tie up your own legs."

He sank to the floor, lounged back on his palms, and raised a knee. "And if I don't?" he tested with a playful tilt of the head.

She held the gun firm in her hand and frowned at him.

He let out a small chuckle. "Come on, Dusty girl. We both know you're not gonna kill me."

"No?" The corner of her mouth lifted. "Maybe you're right, but if you don't do as I say, I might just maim you to buy some time for me to get away." She lowered the gun to his legs. "So, Colden, the choice is yours. Left or right?"

DeSanto laughed, and Colden reached over and smacked him in the head. The goon Riggs had obviously sent to kill him, to kill Dusty, had sobered right up. Colden had no doubt that when Jack Norton got a hold of him, DeSanto would sing like a canary, giving Riggs up in no time. The thug had only been working for Riggs for a few months anyway, so loyalty, bribes, threats, and blackmail—all the tactics Riggs used to keep everyone under his thumb—hadn't had time to settle in.

Colden reached for the rope. He knew Dusty was scared, and his experience had taught him that scared people often did impulsive, crazy things. As long as she had the gun in her hand, especially while it was pointed at him, he had to go along with her—at least until the situation prompted him to do otherwise.

For the sake of easy release, he used the bowline technique. Making the last loop of the knot, he was about to ask Dusty what her next move was going to be, but when he looked up, he caught a flash of the flying gun. She'd tossed it across the room and ran right out the door. "Shit!" He hurried to untie the knot, then kicked his feet free.

DeSanto laughed again, but Colden had no time to give the man another well-deserved smack across the head. Just as he made it to the front door, Colden heard Dusty's truck start up.

"Shit!" he cursed again, remembering that her keys were conveniently in the purse she'd left on the porch with her noisy shoes. The tires spun as she tore up the dirt driveway.

Whatever happened, he had to stop her. "Fuck!" Colden screamed. He reached around and pulled DeSanto's gun from the back of his pants. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said, then raised the pistol and pulled the trigger.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

Dusty's heart was racing, not as fast as it had been back in the house, but it was working on overdrive. She put the key in the ignition and started the truck. Why she hadn't grabbed her purse when she'd fetched her keys was beyond her. Then again, she knew it was a ridiculous waste of precious time to question herself. She'd just left two gun-slingers tied up on her living room floor. _Forget about the purse_!

Her first priority was putting as much distance between herself and them as she could. She shifted the truck into drive and slammed the pedal to the floor. "Breathe. Just relax and breathe, Dusty." She tried to calm herself but couldn't seem to catch her breath as she started down the driveway.

Just as she reached the street, she heard an extremely loud and very short _bang_! The beat in her heart stopped. The truck skidded off the road, but before coming to a complete stop, the front fender slammed into her fence. Dusty's body jolted forward, but the airbag lessened the impact. Had there been any air left in her lungs to breathe, it would have been knocked right out of her.

"Dusty!" First she heard Colden's voice, and then the truck door flew open. "Are you hurt?" He reached in and started touching her face, her shoulder, and her arms, checking her over from head to toe.

"No." She shook her head. "But this...airbag." She tried to push it away, but the overgrown inflatable was surprisingly strong.

Colden reached down to his leg and pulled out a knife.

"You've gotta be kidding me! Are you Rambo or something?" Her head fell back against the seat, and she released a short, hysterical chuckle. "What other deadly weapons are you carrying around in those pants of yours, St. James?"

A smile that appeared to be more from relief than naughty thoughts turned up his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know, Dusty girl." He placed a protective arm across her chest and stabbed the bag.

The pressure released from her body as the loud hissing sound filled the car.

Colden ran his hands over her legs, then back up her body. He cupped the side of her face and looked into her eyes.

She gulped from the concerned stare.

A gentle thumb stroked her cheek. "You sure you're all right?"

It became difficult to breathe again, because his worry had her all choked up. Her sense of fear kept her in a state of caution, but at least her heart had started to beat again. She touched his wrist. "Really, I'm good."

The warmth on her cheek vanished as he swayed back to help her out of the truck.

Gripping his shoulder, she stepped down to the ground on shaky legs. As soon as Colden let her go, she pushed past him. "What happened?" She walked around the truck to inspect it. "Why did I..." She stopped. "Oh!" She inhaled sharply. "My tire blew! How did that happen?" She turned to Colden for an answer, but he only stared blankly at her. Then it suddenly dawned on her. The loud _bang_ she'd heard was a familiar sound, like a car backfiring or... "Oh my God!" Her head slowly turned to a stoic Colden. She walked over and pushed him hard in the chest. "Did you shoot my tire?" She shoved him again.

His body didn't budge, but his jaw flexed.

She punched him in the arm. "Answer me! Did you shoot my damn tire?"

He shrugged and offered a grimace. "I couldn't let you get away."

"You shot at my truck with _me_ in it!"

"Don't worry." He gestured with an insignificant wave of the hand. "I know where a gas tank is on a—"

"The gas tank? Really? You think that's what I'm pissed about?" She curled up her fingers and hauled her arm back for a swing.

Just before she made contact with his smug face, he caught her hand and yanked her to him. "Sorry, sweetheart, but there's no time for all this kind of foreplay right now." Tightening his grip, he started toward his own truck, dragging her behind him.

"Hey! Let go of me!" She struggled to pull her hand free, but he was as strong as the airbag, and he wasn't letting go.

"We need to get out of here." He opened the passenger door. "Get in."

She dug her bare feet into the ground. "I'm not going anywhere with you! You're crazy! You coulda killed me!"

"On the contrary, I'm trying to keep you safe. So please get your pretty little ass in the truck, sit back, and cool down."

"Cool down? Why you—"

"My patience is running real thin here," he grumbled between tight lips.

Wanting nothing more than to kick him hard in the shin, Dusty huffed. If he wanted her ass up in that truck, she had no doubt he'd get it there, one way or another. Not allowing Colden's hands to touch her again, she reluctantly pulled herself into the seat.

Grinning, he reached in front of her, popped the glovebox open, and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"And just what do you intend to do with—"

Before she could finish the sentence, Colden apprehended her hand and clicked a metal cuff around her wrist. "I need to go back in the house for the gun you tossed across the room." He clamped the other cuff to the door handle. "And we'll need our bags." He looked at her as though he hadn't just handcuffed her to the vehicle. "Would you like me to grab your purse and some shoes?"

"Screw you, Colden James! As far as I'm concerned, you can take your gun and your bag and shove it where the sun don't—"

"Hmm. I guess I'll take that as a, 'Why, yes. Thank you, Colden, for being so considerate and for going to all this trouble to save my uppity ass.'" He winked.

"Ooh, I hate you!" she raged, yanking on the handcuffs.

He watched as she battled with the unbreakable bindings. "It's not worth the effort...and you're gonna hurt yourself doing that." A strong hand gently touched her wrist, subduing the fight. He tapped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Under any other circumstances, after I gave you what you're so afraid to ask for, I'd let you go." He leaned in closer. "But you've been a very bad girl, so you'll not be rewarded. You're not getting out of those handcuffs until you learn to behave."

Dismissing the growing ache between her thighs from the naughty innuendo, her eyes hissed up at him.

A sexy, boyish grin rolled over his lips. "I bet that's not something you're used to doing, is it, Dusty girl? Do you even know how to behave?"

Inches away, his mouth, the heat of his breath, and those seductive green eyes lay in wait. Not giving in to the bait, she turned from him. Dusty heard him chuckle as he walked away. She stomped her feet into the floormat, fantasizing about Colden James again—this time about all the ways she could kill him.

As he headed back inside the house, Colden called the special agent in charge, Jack Norton, to put in a request for someone to come out and pick up the garbage he'd managed to tie up in Dusty's living room. "You oughtta be able to get him to drop the dime on Riggs," he said.

The plan was for Colden to drive north for a few hours, then stop and get a room for the night. When there was any news, Norton would be in touch.

After Colden picked up the bags, the gun, and a few other necessities, the nice little chat he was having with DeSanto was interrupted by the loud sound of a horn blowing.

"Damn it, girl," Colden grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. "Don't you ever give up?" With the bags tossed over his shoulder, he darted out the front door, sweeping Dusty's purse from the porch on the way. The horn blared the whole time, even when he made it to the truck, opened the door, and tossed everything in the small back seat. He slipped into the front seat and snatched her hand from the horn. "Stop!"

Black eyes darted at him, throwing daggers. Her pale skin always made her eyes look sinful, but in that moment, they appeared purely evil. She wanted to do bad things to him for cuffing her to the truck and not the good kind of bad things either.

Realizing he'd clearly upset her, he coaxed, "Just relax, Dusty." He watched her chest rise and fall with each puffing breath. She was frightened and pissed, a combination that usually ended up in trouble. He wanted to confess everything to her, to console her, to vanquish her fears, to hold her in his arms, but there wasn't any time.

"We need to get you somewhere safe, and I have to drive in order to do that, so this nonsense has to stop." He glanced at the horn-wielding hand he was holding in the air and searched her eyes for any sign of surrender. "Am I gonna have to handcuff this one too?"

"No." She yanked her hand away and rested it in her lap.

"Good." He put the truck in drive and headed toward the road.

As they drove through town, the silence was deafening.

"Colden?"

The disruption of the quietness shifted his eyes over to her. She was nibbling her bottom lip. _Man!_ His heart squeezed tight. She was so beautiful _._ "Yeah?"

"Can you please drop me off at the police station?"

"No," he said, refusing to let her go, no matter how sweetly she asked.

"Look," she gently started, "I don't know what's going on, why that man was in my home, or why he called you Johnny. Honestly, I don't even wanna know. Just drop me off at the police station. They need to know there's a man tied up on my floor, and—"

"Don't worry about that, sweetheart." He patted her gently on the hand. It was, perhaps, a little condescending, but he had to let her know that no amount of sweetness was going to set her free. "I already reported it. They're probably picking up the bad man as we speak."

"You called them?" Her words came slow and guarded.

"Yes."

"The cops know what happened then?"

He nodded. He knew he had to tread lightly, unsure of how much of the truth to reveal. It was of some benefit that she was scared. If she knew the truth, that he was one of the good guys, she'd mistakenly feel it was safe to run.

"Then let me go," she said, her sweetness turning bitter.

He shook his head. "Can't. We gotta get somewhere safe."

" _You_ need to get somewhere safe, not me. They're after _you, Johnny_!" she screeched, her bitterness turning completely sour.

They stopped at a red light, and he stared at her. He felt pathetic. Looking into her confused and frightened eyes, he couldn't confess that he'd brought the danger of his life into hers. Because of him, her life was at risk too, simply because he hadn't been able to disconnect himself from the past they'd shared six years prior. Colden had never been able to let go of her. He'd carried around that troublemaking picture of her in his wallet because carrying her in his heart wasn't enough. He'd always wanted more than one night with Dusty Owens. In his heart, he felt she belonged to him, that she would always be his and his alone. Now that he'd discovered his hands were the last to touch her, it only fed the crazy notion that she was his to keep. He'd kept the picture so he could look at her face whenever he felt like it, so he could imagine a different life, one shared with her. It had been careless, selfish, and risky, and it had put her in danger. If Riggs knew about Dusty, if he had indeed found the picture in his wallet, he wouldn't hesitate to use her as leverage to get to Colden. He was a ruthless bastard, and he would hurt her or even kill her if he had to. He never would have known about Dusty if Colden hadn't been so desperate to carry her around with him. Now, if it meant scaring her, making her angry, hurting her feelings, or kidnapping her, Colden had no problem doing it to keep her safe.

"C'mon, Dusty girl," he said, shooting her his best smile. "Don't you wanna keep me company?"

"No!" She pulled her hand away. "Not when there are people out there trying to kill you...and me by association!"

"Well, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm afraid I can't do without your company." His voice turned hard and firm. "So just sit back, keep quiet, and enjoy the ride."

Her mouth opened, but he raised an eyebrow, shushing her.

"I think there's some duct tape in the glovebox, and I can still cuff your other wrist if I feel the need to."

Her mouth snapped shut. After shooting him a nasty scowl, she turned and looked out the window for the remainder of the three-hour ride.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

Colden parked in front of the motel, then went in to check them in for the night. Once he had the keycard in hand, he drove around the back, ordered Dusty out of the truck, then nudged her into the room. She was glad to see that the place was clean, even if it was a two-star rat-bag of a place. In addition to the outdated orange shag carpet, the other downside was that there was only one queen-sized bed.

"I see you really splurged, St. James," she grumbled, watching him close the door and drop the bags. "You shoulda told me you're broke as well as wanted. We coulda gone Dutch," she said, glad that it garnered a sneer from him.

"We're better off in this kind of motel. They're less likely to look for us here."

"For you," she corrected, rubbing the spot where the cuff had been. "Remember, cowboy, I've got nothing to do with this little posse you've pissed off."

He disregarded her comment and walked over to the bathroom. Barely touching it, he pushed the door open and poked his head inside. Seemingly satisfied, he turned back to her. "Looks safe enough, no knife-wielding psycho killers with a crush on their dead mommy. You wanna take a shower?" His eyes rolled down her body and stopped at her muddy bare feet.

She glided one dirty foot over the other. "Yeah, that might be a good idea," she said, thinking of the other body parts that needed washing, parts touched by none other than the wicked hand of Colden James. Without another look his way, she grabbed her bag and went into the bathroom. She smirked when she saw that there were no windows, no means of escape _._ She realized that was probably why he'd checked the bathroom out first. Regardless, the hot water felt great.

During the shower, she tried not to think about the intruder who'd broken into her home or the fact that Colden had basically kidnapped her or that there was only one bed in the motel room. She needed to concentrate on getting out of there, away from him. She had a business to run, a wedding to prepare, and a life to live. It would serve her best to steer clear of lunatics hiding in her home with guns just because she'd gotten caught up in the moment with an old flame. Now, if her life was ever going to return to normal, she needed to put that fire out once and for all.

She squared her shoulders and tackled the orange carpet, thinking that it might have been best to put on some socks. Had there been air conditioning in the hot, small room, she might have.

Colden was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless again. He was wearing only a pair of heather gray sweatpants, and even sitting down, they hung deliciously low on his hips. Her eyes diverted to the thin, dark trail of hair that was soon lost in his waistband.

She wanted to punish him for tempting her. She almost laughed as she thought about tweezing each and every one of those curly, tiny, dark hairs. Dragging her eyes away, she straightened her t-shirt and walked into the room. _Damn, it's hot in here._ Even after her shower, her thighs were warm, so she had no other choice but to wear shorts. She was hot and exposed, a dangerous combination to be when around the Saint. As she pushed the wet hair back from her face, his astute eyes followed her every move.

"Here," he said, offering his phone. "I know you need to deal with things at the bar, and I'm not sure how long we'll be gone. Just call whoever can take care of things while you're away."

She glared at him suspiciously. "There's no one I can trust like that," she lied. She hoped if he was thoughtful enough to worry about The Bucking Barrel, perhaps he'd be considerate enough to let her go so she could take care of it.

His lips pressed together. "I know you're more than just a pretty face, Dusty. You're smart too. There's no way you forgot about your place during our little ride over here. I know you've already got somebody in mind who can get the job done, so call 'em." He gave the phone a short wave. "I'll give you two seconds. After that, who knows what'll happen to the place while the cat's away?"

Her eyes dropped again to the happy trail that disappeared into his pants. _Pluck, pluck, pluck..._ Lifting to his smiling eyes, she sneered at him as she snagged the phone from his hand. She knew she could pretty much count on Derek, her night manager. He was competent enough to run the place and young enough to do it with the lack of sleep he was going to have to endure for God knew how long. "I need his number. It's in my phone." She figured he had her phone, because it was the first thing she'd looked for earlier when he'd handed her purse over, and it wasn't there.

He leaned to the left and opened the nightstand, pulled out her cell, and clicked it on. "What's the name?"

"Derek, uh..." She stumbled for his last name, noting the handcuffs that were sitting carelessly on top of the nightstand. "Derek Wakefield. He's my night manager." Why she felt the need to explain it was beyond her, but she assumed it was some deep-rooted recollection of how he'd reacted to Travis hugging her.

As if questioning it himself, Colden's eyebrow lifted.

She scowled at him, recognizing that same audacious look he'd given to her up on the balcony while he had his hand up her skirt _. Damn!_

"Just tell him an emergency has come up and that you'll be away for a few days, nothing more, nothing less. If you let on as to where we are, our asses go back on the road for another three hours." Looking down at her phone, he scrolled through her contacts. "It's two a.m. I don't know about you," he said, glancing up at her, "but I'm exhausted."

She nodded in understanding. Although she had a good idea about where they were going to be sleeping for the night, together in the only bed in the room, she wasn't about to sit in the truck for the next few hours just to prevent or delay it.

Colden rambled off the number, and she stuck to instructions. Derek was all business on the phone, but she noticed a hint of surprise when she asked him to oversee things while she was away.

Also exhausted and not willing to fight it any longer, she easily handed her phone back to her shirtless abductor.

He tossed it into the nightstand and gently pushed the drawer closed. He then rolled onto his back, and his legs landed on the bed. He propped a hand behind his head. "Well, you have three options." He paused and took a long, thorough sweep of her body. The slow, stimulating examination had her tugging on her shirt again. "I can handcuff you to the bedpost, hold you, or you can hold me. To be sure you don't try to slip out in the middle of the night, there will either be physical contact between us, or you will be restrained. It's your choice." He readjusted his arm behind his head. "And rest assured that if you do go with the holding option, that's all it'll be. As much as I want you, Dusty girl, I am too exhausted right now."

_Well, that's disappointing_ ... She scolded herself for the thought and concentrated on weighing her options. The handcuffing was out of the question. She'd had enough of that in the truck. As for him holding her, that meant he'd be pressed up against her—every inch of him. Something inside of her shook from the thought, something hot and wicked.

"I'll hold you," she rushed out, not letting the hot and wicked to get the better of her.

He gazed at her, and those shrouded eyes made everything inside tighten.

Too exhausted? I'd never be too exhausted for...

"Okay."

The husky tone of his deep voice snapped her from the slew of naughty thoughts running through her head, thoughts she knew she shouldn't be thinking before she crawled into bed with Colden James. It was something like watching an ice cream cone melt on a hot day and not saving that tantalizing drip by taking a lick. She told herself not to think about it.

"Hit the lights and get in here."

_Get in here?_ He had dared her to do the inevitable. The problem was that she was afraid that when she did get in there, there'd be no one saving her drip by taking a much-needed lick. The thought of Colden's mouth nestled between her legs had her pussy clenching like an angry fist. _Damn!_ It wanted him bad, and she had no control over it. _Pussy gonna want what the pussy wants._ She chuckled, blaming her desire for Colden on her horny girly parts. It was ridiculous. She had always wanted the man any way she could get him.

She swiped a hand over the light switch, and everything went dark. Maneuvering herself through the room was no trouble because it was so small. When her legs hit the bedpost, she bent over to pull back the blanket, and a burst of anxious realism exploded into the darkness. With the sheet pinched in her fingers, her body froze, and she broke out in a cold sweat. She was about to get into bed with Colden James, the man who'd broken her heart. _What the hell am I thinking?_

He was lying on his side, with his back to her, every muscle and curve outlined by the dim moonlight filtering in through the curtain crack. A tattoo spread across his back, but she couldn't make out what it was. With all of his changes, the ink, the cockiness, and the fact that he had no problem telling her how much he wanted her. Well, it all frightened her. She'd wanted him for so long, but her forever crush was now a stranger.

The beating of her heart went from a slow trot to a steady jog. She worried that if it kicked into a full run in the quiet darkness, he'd hear her rapid breathing. There was nothing she could do. It was too late. A rush of his scent flourished her nose. Quick inhales from the greed of wanting more proclaimed the silence. Her breath quickened, and her dry throat gave into a small, fearful cry.

The carnal silhouette in the bed shifted. Muscles rippled and rolled with each deliberate movement. The sound of her panting became louder, clashing with the soft ruffling of the sheets. Confronted by the object of her panic, and before she could summon any courage, Colden reached out and pulled her down onto the bed. Not only did her throat give in to the fear, but her body began to tremble as well.

"No," he said in a harsh whisper. Barely touching her, his large form hovered over her body.

She couldn't move or say anything. Immobilized by the fear induced by the man who pinned her to the bed, her panting carried on in the shadowy room.

"No, don't do this." He cradled her face gently with large hands. "Don't be afraid of me. Not like this. You hear me?" The moonlight illuminated his eyes. They glistened with affection. "You be frightened when I kiss you." His mouth brushed over hers.

Her breath caught in her throat from the brief kiss and from the way he passionately gazed down at her.

"Be afraid of the feeling you get between your legs when I touch you." The weight of his body lowered on hers, his thick hardness imbedding her flesh. "Fear me when I'm finally deep inside of you." He pressed closer.

She let out a cry of desire, not from fear. Her hips moved as she tried to rock against him.

A smile touched his strong lips, and his tempting mouth lay suspended over hers. "You fear what we will become when I again make you mine, sweetheart."

The warmth of his words cascaded her flushed face. The tenderness in his voice and the soft pressure of his palms upon her cheeks added need to her already desirous want.

"And what you should _really_ be afraid of... what you need to fear," his eyes dropped to her mouth, a rough thumb passed over her quivering lip, "is what you mean to me in here." Colden tapped his chest as dark eyes lifted back to hers. "Because being trapped in here, Dusty girl..." He pointed to his heart. "Well, that should scare you a lot more than being safe out here with only your arms around me."

Speechless, she stared up at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. As straightforward as they had been, they still confused her. Was he saying that he cared for her? Was she supposed to believe that after...all this...No! She wasn't going to fall for it _._ Like his reaction to Travis at the bar, she was sure that this, too, was all an act. She couldn't let herself fall so hard for him again because it would only kill her if and when he left. And yeah, sooner or later, he'd leave her again. It seemed the new Colden always had an agenda, and he knew what he was doing. Hell, he probably planned to stay at her place even before he stepped foot in town.

He'd barged back into her life, plucked her from her comfortable little world, handcuffed her, and driven her miles away from her home. And for what? To keep him company while he hid out from God knows who?

The Saint had turned everything she'd known to be true upside down. Until a few days ago, as far as she'd been concerned, Colden was in Georgia, happily married and playing catch with his kids in the yard. The only two sure things in her life had been The Bucking Barrel and Sissy. They were all that had demanded anything of her, all that mattered.

But now, as she stared up at Colden, the only place she wanted to be was in his heart, and the only demands she wanted to obey were the ones coming out of his mouth. She longed for that wonderful feeling of belonging, for the way he'd made her feel the night before he'd left Odessa some six years ago. And, as he said it should, that scared the hell out of her.

With telepathic eyes, he peered down at her. "Now, I'm gonna roll over so you can hold me, since we made a deal," he said, his mouth inching closer to hers. "And I want you to behave." He grinned. "I mean it, Dusty girl. No hanky-panky."

She glared up at him. "You can rest assured there won't be any of that tonight. I hate you far too much right now."

"Right now?" His grin split wide open, blossoming into a full-blown smile. "So there's hope you may forgive me after all?" Before she could reply, he leaned down and planted a hard but effective kiss on her lips. Then, just like that, he slipped away, but his indulgent mouth left a tingling sensation upon her lips. As warned, he rolled over on his side, looking away from her. He took her hand and dragged her along with him. He curled her fingers into his and held the union against his chest.

The action drew her closer to his back, and her face melted into his warm skin. She could hear the beating of his heart. It was racing. She smiled against his strong back. For all of Colden's cool moves and playful sarcasm, she had apparently affected him too.

# CHAPTER NINE

Click.

Colden's eyes were closed, but he heard the faint sound of metal scraping metal. His hand felt heavy, and fingers tingled, they were going numb. He blinked, then smiled when he opened his eyes. Leaning over him was the most beautiful woman in world. The only woman capable of giving him the best sleep of his life just by lying by his side. The only woman who had tried and succeeded in handcuffing him to a bed without him feeling a thing until it was too late. He blinked a few more times, rubbed his eye with his free hand, and looked up at his beautiful captor. "Mornin', sweetheart." He rolled onto his back and stretched.

Dusty watched his every move, and that only turned him on more. Dark curls hugged her face. Her full, red lips were pursed. Her eyes black and penetrating. She had squeezed her perfect figure into a tight little tank-top and jeans. _What a sight to wake up to, like a dream-come-true._ He'd fantasized about her frequently, more than he had any right to. He'd disrespected her, after all, taken her virtue and then abandoned her. He'd had a hard time forgiving himself for that, so he couldn't really expect her to forgive him either. As usual, he pushed the thoughts aside. He couldn't bother thinking about redemption or salvation for his past. He had to live in the now, and in that very moment, he was handcuffed to a bed.

He gave his wrist a slight jiggle, and the handcuffs clinked. "Are you trying to tell me something here? I didn't realize you were into this sort of thing."

She stared at him, indifferent, not saying a word.

"You wanna fool around, is that it?" he provoked with a flick of the brows.

Her eyes narrowed.

"'Cause I'm no longer exhausted. In fact, I'm all rested up and, uh..." He glanced down at his faithful morning hard-on. "As you can see, I'm ready for ya too."

Her long lashes enhanced her sinfully dark eyes as they fell to the place between his legs. She gazed at the spot where he was straining, thick and hard, against the fleece of his pants. That turned him on too. She teased him with that scorching look from his groin, up his naked torso, over his chest, and past his mouth, until her eyes finally crashed into his.

A sweet little smile pulled at her pursed red lips, and a hand came out from behind her back. She tossed his keys up in the air, then caught them. "Sorry, baby. I'd love to stay and help you deal with your little morning visitor, but I can't," she said, faking a pout. "I have to go." She mocked him with another sulk, then tossed the keys again, catching them without batting an eye. She clenched them in her hand, her demeanor shifting from pouty to jovial. "But don't worry." She turned her back on him and started for the door. "I'll call the motel in a few hours to have someone release you."

He laughed, watching her hips sway as her nice little ass waltzed away. She was resourceful, clever, and amazing, and Colden was crazy about her. He liked hearing her call him "baby" too. He was happy to fill that role. He'd be her baby. Hell, if he ever had the chance to, he'd be her everything. The notion startled him, but he didn't have time to fuck around with it or his psyche, so he just accepted it and moved on. He wanted her more than just in that moment, and there was no sense trying to hide it anymore. Dusty had always been his, and to be sure she remained that way, he couldn't let her walk out that damn door. As much as he would have liked to give her the win, he had to stop her.

"Hey, Dusty girl."

She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

"Can I tell you something before you go?"

Her head shifted over a slender shoulder. Beautiful curious eyes bore down at him.

"Ah..." He lifted his hand and raised a finger. "Hold on one sec'." Arching his body, he tilted his head and sighed with relief. He was handcuffed to a measly spindle. He drew back his pointed finger and slammed the palm of his hand into the rod, causing it to crack. He jumped and was on his feet before Dusty could respond. "There," he said with a grin, shoving out an opened hand. "Now be a good girl and toss me those keys."

She blinked and his great escape must have finally reached her brain, she threw open the door and bolted.

He shook his head with a chuckle and ran after her. "Shit!" he yelled as his bare feet hit the stones on the parking lot. "Fuck!" The sharp edges of the rocks sliced his soles. "Ah! Hell!" Gritting his teeth, he forged onward.

He was close, so close that she couldn't risk her escape by stopping at his truck. She passed it and headed right for the street. When he finally caught up to her, he grabbed her by the waist and swung her body around to his hip. He half-dragged, half-carried her back toward the motel, while she kept kicking and screaming, trying to draw attention.

A man and woman leaving their room had stopped to see what was going on, and Colden could tell the man was about to intervene. He had that look in his eyes, the same one Colden would've had if he'd come across the scene he was creating. He needed to prove to the guy that he wasn't hurting Dusty. If he didn't, he'd end up having to hurt the guy.

When he finally made it to his truck, he twirled Dusty around and pinned her against it. He slipped a hand behind her neck and grabbed a lock of her hair. He gave it a little tug, and her fight immediately stopped.

Breathing hard, she glared up at him.

"Relax," he quietly rasped.

"Relax? You kidnapped me!" she said, her voice raising an octave with every word. "You handcuffed me! Relax? Really, St. James? You shot at me for Christ's sakes!"

The man started toward them, and Colden knew his time was running out.

"All those years ago," he said, loud enough to be heard but still low enough for her to have to stop shouting to hear him. "I didn't want to leave you."

Her forehead scrunched. "What?"

"I didn't want to let you go then, and I sure as hell don't wanna let you go now." Like the quick grip to her hair, Colden captured her lips. His mouth grabbed hold of hers and refused to let go until she surrendered. When he pushed his tongue past her lips, her tongue reached out to greet it.

The hot connection charged him. He pulled her body close. Steering her with the hair he was clinging to, he devoured her sweet-tasting mouth. A little cry vibrated against his lips, and that small murmur did him in. He grabbed her by the ass and pulled her up. Like a good girl, her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms clung to his neck. This time, it was his good girl who had deepened the kiss. He'd always admired the aggressor in her. He squeezed her ass harder, forcing her to grind into him. The action instantly hardened him. Guiding her hips, he rubbed her against his throbbing erection.

"Fuck, girl," he growled between the tongue-lashing and lip-smacking.

His palms hit the top of the truck, his ass muscles flexed, and he pushed their joined bodies against the hard steel door. Dusty's legs held tight to him, as his cock demanded to be inside of her.

"Damn." The kiss turned hot and wild. His hips gyrated, hammering her into the truck. Then he did it again, slamming her harder. "Shit!" This time, he stilled, all but his stirring cock, something he had no control over. That part of him wanted her bad, and he nearly broke her in two against that damn truck because of it. "Did I hurt you?"

Gazing up at him with breathless impatience, she shook her head.

Every muscle in his body was tight and sore with need, and he could only image what her body felt like after he knocked her against the truck like some inpatient teenager.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Dropping his hand from the roof, he brushed the back of it gently across her cheek. "You always make me so...crazy."

Her eyes lingered on his mouth. With her breath waning again, she squinted thoughtfully up at him. "Colden?" She licked her bottom lip, as if his kiss was still lingering there. "Why did you leave?"

He grimaced. "That's a discussion for another time." His body may have been ready to capitulate to her, but Colden had to withhold his heart until he figured out what it wanted, what he was doing. He wasn't about to make any promises he couldn't keep, and he had no right to keep Dusty without them. If he confessed any of the truth, he knew he'd have to tell it all, and he wasn't even ready to admit everything to himself, let alone to Dusty.

He glanced over at the man and woman, who were getting in their car. He almost laughed when he saw the woman shaking her head and heard her muttering, "Get a room. Sheesh!" His ploy had worked, and that was a relief.

That relief was short-lived, however, because when he glanced back at Dusty, she was watching him intently. The obvious had become obvious to her, and anger flushed her face scarlet.

"Put me down!"

Placing his hand back on top of the truck, he grinned. "I'm not holding you. It seems you're holding me. Wasn't that our deal last night?"

She snarled at him. Her slender legs dropped from his waist, and small hands released his neck as her feet hit the ground. "You only did that to—"

"To what?" He tilted his head, giving her a chaste kiss. " _I_ only did what?"

"You kissed me! You only did it so that man wouldn't come over here!"

Leaning forward, his body barely touched hers. "Did I?"

"I hate you!"

"Yeah, yeah. You've said that before." He grabbed her hand. "Maybe someday I can change your opinion of me." He turned and started back toward the motel. "But today's not that day," he said. He was sure she'd hate him even more when they got back to the room and he handcuffed her to the sturdy part of the bedpost so he could take a shower.

"Like hell!" she raged, staggering behind. "Today or any other day, that's never gonna happen. I will always hate you for this, St. James."

He glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, pretty girl." He winked. "Never say never."

She rolled her eyes. If she could have gotten away with it without looking like a child, he figured she would have stuck her tongue out at him too.

Truthfully, when Colden had kissed her against the truck just as he had kissed her up against Mr. McAllister's fence, Dusty had a hard time hating him. That feeling of belonging had started to stir deep inside her again, and she didn't want it to stop.

After he lured her back to the room, he handcuffed her to the bed and left. She practically spat fire, stewing on that bed until he returned with coffee for both of them. In desperate need of her morning java, she swallowed her pride and snatched it from his hand. Sipping the hot liquid, she watched Colden pull out her e-reader from his bag. He put it and the charger on the bed. He must have snagged it when he'd gone back into her house for their bags, and a very small part of her was thankful for his thoughtfulness. It would bore her senseless to be cuffed to the bed with nothing to do but stare at the ugly, faded, paisley wallpaper. Her eyes could wander to Colden, but nothing but trouble would come from that.

Without a word, Colden tried to comfort her, getting her all settled in the bed with her stories and coffee. He leaned down, gently kissed her on the forehead, and walked into the bathroom. When she heard the shower turn on, her thighs clenched. _Damn him!_

Sitting in the bed, partly pampered and stolen by Colden James, she tried to reason why she was there. She wasn't an idiot. In his mind, Colden had kidnapped her to keep her safe. He'd handcuffed her to keep her from running, to keep her as his _company_. In her heart, Dusty knew he'd never hurt her, but that didn't make being restrained to a bed any easier. She wanted to go home. Whoever was after Colden, it had nothing to do with her. She was furious that he'd refused to drop her off at the police station when she'd asked him to. None of it made any sense.

For the next two days, they remained at the motel. If Dusty had to be honest, she'd have to admit that she was content with the situation. She was glad to have some time alone with the Saint. He'd been gone for so long, and she discovered that she had missed him. At one time in her life, from morning to night, he had been her everything. She couldn't take a single breath without thinking about him. Granted, she was young and naïve back then. Yet, he'd been a huge part of her and letting that part go... Well, it had always seemed impossible. Hell, the man had kidnapped her, he even shot at her, and still to this day, it was difficult for her to breathe without him breaking into her thoughts. She was a lost cause when it came to the Saint, and that was why without any struggle she had stayed with her captor.

The only time Dusty left the small room was to go for a walk with Colden. At least they both had agreed that exercise was important. In the morning and after they'd had their supper, they'd take a stroll. He donned a baseball cap, and she wore a pair of huge sunglasses he'd purchased at the corner store.

Colden insisted that they hold hands while they walked, and Dusty didn't mind. It was a far cry from holding him in bed all night—or at least part of the night. By morning, she was usually curled up in a little ball, with his arms wrapped around her. His warm breath, cozy yet firm body, and scent all filled her brainless mind with foolish thoughts. _What if I roll over and kiss him? Touch him? Take off my clothes? Would he finish me? Complete the wonderful feeling of belonging and make me his forever?_ She laughed. _As if that's gonna happen._ Moreover, she didn't know if she even really wanted it to.

Regardless, the man didn't trust her. He was still handcuffing her to the damn bed whenever she was going to be out of his sight. If something didn't give soon, Dusty realized she might actually be his forever— his forever prisoner.

As they walked down the suburbia street with Colden lightly swinging her hand, Dusty realized that for the past couple days, she'd been the only one doing the talking. Colden had asked her about anything and everything, from her favorite color to the bestselling brand of beer at the bar. She gazed at her first love-turned-stranger. She wasn't sure if she'd actually been in love with him or if it had only been some young-love, hardcore kind of crush. Whatever he meant to her, with the sun glowing in the horizon behind him, Dusty had to accept that she was falling for the Saint all over again.

She stopped, and he looked down at her, his eyes dark and shaded by the low lid of his baseball cap. Slightly longer hair winged out from his hat, making him appear younger. His t-shirt was snug, and his jeans fit him in a way that made her jealous of the denim. Without a doubt, Colden James was a heart-stopper.

"I want to know the truth," she said, placing a hand on her hip, "tell me why you left?"

His hand slipped from her fingers and ran up her arm. A few seconds ticked by as he gazed at her considerately, as if debating his answer. Finally, his lips tipped up. "Hey..." His head nudged to the left with a flick of the brow. "You wanna stop in that bar over there and grab a beer?"

Again, he'd decided to evade the question altogether, just as he'd been doing for the past two days, a one-two sucker punch right to Dusty's heart. All of his attention and the inquest were meant to deter her from pressing him for any answers. Wondering who Colden really was had been replaced by long nights of wanting, long days of his sweet smiles, fawning regard, and holding hands. And all along, he'd been seducing her into a lull of acceptance without answers. Now, with his dubious attention finally exposed, her curiosity had awakened and she was going to stop at nothing to get the answers she deserved.

She smiled back at him. "Sure."

They entered the small tavern and found it pretty empty. It was still early, about half past six. An elderly man with white whiskers and weathered skin was sitting at the bar. Dusty figured he was a regular who sat at the same stool every day at the same time, like many of those who frequented The Bucking Barrel, including Mr. McAllister. He always ordered two shots and a beer, sat at the end of the bar, and never said a word to anyone. He just drank his liquor and left. Unfortunately, his daily visits were a constant reminder of what she and Colden had done to the old man's fence.

Dusty glanced around the bar and saw a couple snuggled together in a booth in the far left corner. They hadn't bothered to tear their eyes from one another to check to see who had come in. Standing around the dartboard in the back of the bar were three cowboys. They reminded her of Odessa's six-pack of heartthrobs. The ruffians stopped talking and watched them walk into the place.

Colden examined each and every one of the onlookers with deliberate eyes as they made their way to the bar. He ordered two beers. Then Dusty followed him to a high-top table away from the bar, the ruffians, and the lovers. Colden sat back onto the edge of a stool and took a swig of his beer, giving the cowboys another long, intimidating glower.

Dusty couldn't help but stare at them too, especially when one tilted his hat and gave her a little sly smile. She smiled back but not in a flirty way. For a split second, not even a half of one, she thought those hunky heartthrobs might actually be a way out, a way for her to escape her crush-turned-captor.

"Hey." Colden grunted.

She looked at him and noticed that his eyes were dark and cautionary.

"Don't even think about it, sweetheart."

"Worried?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "There are three of them."

" _Only_ three." He reached over, pulled the sunglasses off her face, and placed them on the table. "I'm always up for a good challenge, but they won't be one." He shook his head. "Smiley, he'd be the first to hit the floor, just because I don't like the way he's looking at you. As for Mr. Big, he'd be next, even though he oughtta be first. That quiet one lurking in the background is probably the only one worth getting off this stool for. He looks to have a bit of fight in him." He grinned. "But you can rest assured that in the end, he'd just end up joining his buddies on the floor." He lifted the beer almost to his mouth. "So you might wanna think real hard before you give Smiley another one of those pretty smiles of yours." He winked, put the bottle to his lips, and tossed it back.

If she hadn't seen him take Travis down so easily at her bar, she might have tried to call Colden's bluff, but she was pretty sure he could hold his own and then some. Once more, it had her questioning why the government had trained their desk jockeys so well. Heeding his advice to spare Smiley a beating, she kept her eyes away from him and took a few quick sips of her beer. She could only frown at Colden's smug expression when she looked back up at him again.

After a long stare-down, his face softened. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but the safest place for you is right here with me." His voice was calm and sincere. "No one, including those three kids over there, the police, or anyone else, will protect you like I will." He searched her face, and his eyes narrowed. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"No," she said, an answer coaxed out by the truth and the seriousness in his voice. "I'm not afraid of you, and I believe you will keep me safe, but it's only because of you that I need protection."

"Yes, and I apologize for that." He shrugged, a bit too indifferent for her taste. "But this is where we are, and it is what it is."

"Yeah?" she murmured. "And where were you for the past six years?"

His expression fell flat, and his hand moved on the table. He opened it. "Gimme your hand."

Unable to decrypt where he was going with the strange request, she did as instructed and put her hand in his. He curled his fingers around it, but she couldn't take the silence. "Were you even in Atlanta?"

"Nope." His thumb gently stroked hers, and he concentrated on their joined hands. "I haven't been to Georgia in nine years."

"You haven't?" she squeaked, her heart racing from the tender touch.

Shaking his head, he looked back up at her. Guiding her by the hand, he pulled her around the table, grabbed her by the waist of her pants, and hauled her closer to him. She landed in front of his partly spread legs as he sat on the stool.

God, he was hot. For the past two days, he'd held back and kept his distance from her, but now, something had changed. Somehow, he was different. His guard had dropped, and now she could see the heat in his eyes. "If you weren't in Georgia," she said, swallowing hard, "then where have you been?"

His arm moved around her waist, and his legs drifted farther apart. He smoothly yanked her between his thighs. "If I tell you, I'll have to...kiss you."

"Kiss me?"

"Yes." His hand slid to the small of her back, and his strong fingers feathered open and pressed her closer.

When a strong whiff of him reached her nose, the erotic scent drove her insane.

"It'll be a little give and take. I give you something you want, and in return, I take what I want."

"And a kiss is what you want?"

"It's a start."

"Meaning?"

He smiled. "Can I kiss you or not?"

"Fine!" She huffed, bent forward, closed her eyes, and puckered up to wait for the kiss.

"I was in Detroit," he said, followed by a chuckle.

Her eyes flew open. "Detroit?" She wondered what the hell he was doing in Detroit. Then she quickly realized something. "Hey, you didn't kiss me."

His hand slipped upward, and he gloved the back of her head. Lowering his head, she watched his mouth close in on hers. Her belly tightened with anticipation.

"That's because you weren't properly ready for me." His lips covered her partly opened mouth. As his tongue slipped inside, Detroit slipped from her mind. The kiss had her leaning into his body, melting into his touch, forgetting about everything around them.

He pulled away, and as quickly as it all had disappeared, it all came back, how she'd been taken by Colden's mouth in the first place. He was trying to silence her as he'd been doing for the past couple days.

"Why were you in Detroit?" she breathlessly asked.

His eyes lingered on her mouth. "Dusty girl, if you want to continue with this little interrogation, I suggest you finish that beer and we head back to the motel room." He scraped his mouth over hers. "'Cause if I'm gonna give you anything else, I plan on takin' a lot more in exchange."

# CHAPTER TEN

The walk back to the motel started out quietly, Colden welcomed the time to think. Jack Norton had called earlier to give him an update. DeSanto was just starting to sing—not quite like the canary they'd hoped for, but he was managing a tune with a few helpful lyrics, and Jack was confident they'd have a confession soon. They were closing in on Riggs's whereabouts, and Jack hoped to have him in custody by morning.

Colden knew time was running out for him and Dusty. He couldn't keep her locked up in the motel room forever, and he couldn't keep her in the dark for much longer either. Eventually, he'd have to tell her the truth, but he feared his truth might have her setting him free.

In a little under a mile, he would be alone with her again in a room that essentially consisted of four walls and a bed. He couldn't trust what was going to happen behind those walls when he closed the door. He wanted to think he'd be decent enough to come clean about everything or to let Dusty have some control over the outcome, but the truth was, if he went through with what he'd wanted to do for the past two days, she would have no say in the matter. He'd leave no opportunity for her to consider anything other than wanting him deep inside of her, and he had enough confidence in himself to get the job done. That, coupled with his feelings for her, would be an unstoppable thing indeed.

He was sure she had to feel it too. He couldn't possibly feel that way about someone without them partaking or at least being aware of it. Colden also had to believe there was more to it than just chemistry and sex and a little history. As far as he was concerned, there was no question about that. Sure, he wanted to fuck her real hard, but he didn't want to leave when it was all said and done. He wanted to stay, to hold her naked body against his, to fall asleep with her in his arms.

He shuddered at the thought of leaving her. He couldn't possibly let her be another notch on his bedpost, couldn't think of Dusty Owens as simply one of his sexploits. His chest tightened, quite possibly it was his heart clenching. He realized there was no way he could have sex with Dusty. He'd have to do something else, like worship her body, embrace her beauty, and inspire her to make sweet little noises. He'd have to call it something different, perhaps a "shared experience" that would leave them both breathless and yearning for more. He would have to actually make love to her, but damn, he wanted to fuck her too. He already knew that fucking Dusty Owens wasn't like fucking just anyone. He had to figure something out so he could have her any way he wanted.

With their hands clasped together, they continued down the deserted street. She flashed those dark, sultry eyes his way and when she did, he smiled. She scowled and turned away. Very shortly, they'd be at the motel. He needed to take a few preemptive strikes at her harsh attitude, or she'd only close her heart and her legs as soon as he closed the door. To get her attention, he squeezed her hand a bit. Much to his surprise, the simple gesture worked

"You know..." Annoyed eyes shot up at him as she tried to pull loose. "You don't have to hold my hand." She huffed when she couldn't break free. "I'm sure you'll catch me if I try to run, Robocop."

He laughed quietly, not taking the sassy-but-cute bait. "I like holding your hand."

"But _I_ don't like it."

"I know," he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead, fully aware that she was giving him the evil eye. "Ya know. When I see a couple holding hands, I always think now there's a love that must be pretty damn special. There's just something about seeing two people willing to show such public displays of affection. It's ...intimate."

"Holding hands in public isn't that intimate," she said, mockery dripping from her voice.

"How many hands do you hold on any given day?" He glanced at her, as if expecting an answer. "Week? Month?"

She glared up at him, remaining silent.

He grinned. "Yeah? Me neither," he said and went back to looking straight ahead. "Intimacy all starts with the hands."

She exhaled loudly in obvious disagreement. "I always thought it started with a kiss."

"Yeah, the mouth can be very intimate too. Not only can it touch the lips, but it can also touch almost everywhere the hands are able to." He scanned her body, imaging the places where he wanted to put his mouth. Her cheeks flared red, and he liked knowing that she had easily read his mind. "But out here, on our little walk, I can't put my mouth anywhere I want, can I? Out here, if I want to share any intimacy with you, I'm reduced to showing it all to you by holding your hand."

She glared up at him from the corner of an unconvinced eye. "The same hand you've restrained for the past two days?"

His smile grew. "Yes, but restraints can be very intimate too, right?"

"Colden James, you are unbelievable," she hissed, her steps quickening in the direction of the motel.

"I won't argue with ya there, sweetheart." He laughed, keeping up with her quick steps "It happens rarely, but maybe I'm wrong. Now that I really think about, intimacy might originate from somewhere else entirely."

"I hate to even ask."

"Get your mind outta the gutter, girl. I'm talking about...the heart."

She halted at the door, looked at him, and smirked. "Aw. How sweet," she mocked. "And to think, I've never taken you for the sentimental type, St. James."

Colden opened the motel door and waved her in. "That's because you, my pretty girl, have only taken me once...and that was six years ago."

"Yeah," she huffed and stomped into the room, "and I learned my lesson then. I'll never make that mistake again."

He kicked the door closed, caught her by the wrist, spun her around, and backed her against the wall. "Like I told you before," he said, resting one forearm and then the other on the wall, trapping her, "never say never, Dusty girl."

Pinned between two immovable objects, Dusty tipped her head back. Heated desire patiently waited beneath Colden's heavy lids. Her breasts swelled, and her mouth watered. Her palms moist with sweat. She wanted him, needed him.

In an attempt to stop from reaching out to take him, she spoke. "So what happens now?"

He moved his nose lightly across hers, and the heat of his breath sashayed over her mouth. "What do you want to happen?"

"Once and for all, I want you to tell me the truth," she said, inhaling his steaminess.

"Well, that's easy enough." He swayed closer. "I want to kiss you again,"

"No!" It came out a bit rushed and nervous, but Dusty knew if she didn't change the subject, take a purposeful detour from the strong sexual tension growing like wildfire between them, she was going to lean forward and press her hot, heavy chest against his. "I want you to tell me the truth about you, where you've been, and why men are trying to kill you."

Those heavy lids lowered to her breasts, as if he knew they were suffering, yearning for his touch. He lifted, and the green in his eyes darkened. "I'll tell you everything," he said. A small, wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his arms fell easily to his sides. One of his hands took hers, and he guided her over to the bed. "Sit down."

Before she could argue, her knees bent and her ass hit the soft mattress.

Colden knelt in front of her, his warm hand resting on her naked thigh. "What do you want to know first? You can ask me anything."

It was difficult for her to concentrate with the large, hot palm on her leg, the strong digits indenting her sensitive flesh. "You weren't in Georgia but in Detroit, right?" His hand slightly shifted to her inner thigh, and her heart skipped a beat.

The warmth of his touch slid down her legs, and he gently pulled off one of her sneakers. "Yes, that's right," he confirmed, then pulled off her other shoe.

Her brows tightened. "And you were there because...?"

Looping a finger into the top of her sock, Colden dragged it from her foot. "I was on assignment."

After he removed her second sock, she wiggled her toes, trying to acknowledge the action. "What kind of assignment?" She rubbed her bare feet into the shaggy carpet.

He stood up and offered his hand to her. Like at the door, she took it, no questions asked, and he helped her to her feet. She gazed up at him, feeling his fingers scrape her belly. "It was...undercover work."

The answer shocked her so much that she didn't even realize he was starting to lift her shirt. "Like an undercover agent or something?" The shirt passed her eyes just before it was pulled over her head and tossed to the floor.

"Yes." He leaned forward, reached behind her back, and unclasped her bra. Veering away, he took the garment with him; that, too, was dropped to the floor.

"So..." She watched with suspicious eyes, too hot to notice her starkness. "You were working undercover for the government in Detroit? For the ATF?"

The button on her jeans popped open, and the zipper easily separated with a tug from his deft fingers.

"Well..." Slowly, he started to pull her pants and panties down over her hips. "For that assignment, I was sort of on loan to the FBI."

"The FBI?" she uttered, absentmindedly setting a hand on his broad shoulder while she stepped out of her bottoms as he tapped each foot.

"Yeah. I helped them get the goods on one of the biggest gun-smugglers in the Midwest. It took me a few years to gain his trust and a few more to gather all the evidence. For the past year or so, we've been making arrests while still trying to keep my cover intact."

He pushed her back until she was again sitting on the edge of the bed, only now she was completely naked. Enthralled by Colden's confession and distracted by all the confusion, it seemed she hadn't noticed that he had, once more, skillfully seduced her. At any rate, if she had noticed, no part of her wanted him to stop.

"A couple weeks ago, we got some intel that let us know my cover might have been compromised, and they instantly pulled me out."

Trying to catch the pieces as they fell into place, she nibbled her bottom lip. Colden hadn't been sitting behind a desk for the past six years after all. Instead, he was a covert agent working for the FBI. That explained why he was so competent with a gun, capable with manhandling bad guys—and good ones like Travis— and why he could clear a bar top in one mighty leap and bound.

"So you, uh...you came back because your cover was blown?"

"No," he said, watching her bite her bottom lip again. "I came back because of you."

When he gestured for her to lie down on the bed, she obeyed.

"For me?"

"Shh." Strong hands settled on her thighs. Gripping them, he spread her legs open, and then he knelt down between her thighs.

It made no sense to Dusty that he'd come back because of her. Yet, she hadn't pondered on the thought for too long for he'd distracted her again with confessions and hot touches. She'd waited so long for this moment. She'd waited what felt like a lifetime for the Saint to return to her. Regardless, as much as she needed him, her common sense had tried to come back to life. "What... what are you doing?"

"I'm through giving, pretty girl. Now it's takin' time. But don't worry. You're gonna like what I plan to take from you. I promise."

"But..." She tried to sit up, to put up some kind of fight, but he'd had her at "pretty girl."

"What," a dark eyebrow lifted. "You want me to answer more questions, or would you prefer that my mouth do some more, uh...intimate things?"

"Like what?" she asked, almost fearing the answer but desperate to hear it.

"Like kissing you right here." Slow and deliberate, his finger slid down the wetness burrowed between her hot thighs.

_Fuck that feels good!_ She arched her back with a loud, tell-all moan.

"Ah. That's what I thought." His finger drew back up with a little more pressure, scraping over her tender clitoris, sending a tendril of heat through her body. When Dusty cried out, he took it as an open invitation. His finger slipped into her and like a hot spear, lighting up her insides, it caused her to cry louder. "Damn, girl, you're so wet. You just couldn't wait for me to touch you, huh?"

With his eyes secured to hers, Colden lowered. His head nestled between her legs until his mouth disappeared from view and latched onto that pulsating nub in the center of all her wetness. Her entire body enflamed with desire. His finger withdrew, then punctured back inside. Her hips writhed, demanding more, and his mouth suckled harder. All the while, his eyes gazed up at her, fucking her even harder.

She reached out, sank her fingers into his hair, and pulled him closer. The frolic of his tongue turned savage. With his free hand, he reached around and grabbed her ass. Using the grip he had on her cheek, he heightened the devouring of her pussy. That action and the roughness of his tongue and strong lips, along with the relentless, thick finger entering her, did her in. Her thighs stiffened, and her hips thrust upward. Dusty screamed.

"Oh yeah," he growled, the response quickening the thrust of his finger. "That's my pretty girl." His thumb circled her sensitive, fleshy nub. "I wanna hear nothing more in this world than you cumming from the touch of my hand..." He brushed his lips over her sensitive clit. "Or my mouth." His eyes smiled up at her. "Well, there's one other way I'd like to make you cum, Dusty girl." He slipped two fingers inside, stretching her. "Can you guess what that is?"

"Colden..." she moaned, imaging him moving deep inside of her.

"What? Tell me, my pretty, pretty girl," he coaxed with two aggressive fingers inside her, one strong hand secured to her ass, and eyes that were still fucking the hell out of her. Fully aware of what he was doing, toying with her, the smug, irritable man had the audacity to smirk.

She glared down at him, discouraged with herself for needing him so bad. The falling had stopped, Dusty had finally hit bottom. She'd fallen for Colden James all over again. "I-I hate you," she hissed, her hips meeting his every thrust as her body begged for more.

"I know, sweetheart, but you're still gonna give me what I want, aren't you?"

"Damn it!" she cursed, holding back an honest "Yes!" She didn't want to admit it, but that selfish pussy of hers wanted nothing more than to get closer to that wicked smile. Her back arched.

"Oh yeah. You're gonna give me what I want," he huskily taunted before that naughty smile of his melted back into her. With both hands, he reached under her ass, pressed her against his mouth, and vigorously rubbed his strong lips back and forth over her.

The friction and the hungry look in his eyes cracked open the burning heat from within, finally setting her orgasm free.

Even after the earth-shattering orgasm, her body ached for more. She tried to catch her breath as she lifted her head to look down at Colden. His forehead was resting on her thigh. His eyes were closed, his nostrils flaring. He, too, was trying to catch his breath. Tilting his head to the side, from the corner of his eye, he glanced up at her, and she noted a hint of apprehension.

What's he got to be so nervous about?

His large hand hit the edge of the bed, and he pushed himself into a standing position. With his chest rising and falling beneath his shirt, his eyes remained fixed on her. She lay naked on the bed, but it was Colden's vulnerability that stood, unprotected, in the room.

Dusty eased herself to the edge of the bed with Colden silently watching. She got up on her feet.

His jaw flinched. "Damn, girl," he said, taking another thorough inspection of her naked body. "You're gorgeous."

The compliment infused her confidence, and she took a step toward him.

"But you'd better not come any closer."

"Why not?"

"Because, ever since you pranced that sweet little ass of yours into Odessa, I've wanted you, and the one night I took you up against old man McAllister's fence...well, hell, that couldn't even lick a fraction of what I need from you."

"What you need from me?" She inched nearer, loving the sound of those words.

"Oh yeah." He gazed down, touching her with his eyes. "There's not one part of you that I don't want...or _need_."

She reached out and gathered the bottom of his shirt in her hands. "Good, because there's not a part of me that I don't want to give to you." She pulled his shirt up over his head, then tossed it on the floor to join her pile of clothes.

Colden watched her shaky fingers as they fumbled with the button of his jeans. "I can't make you any promises," he quietly admitted.

Pulling down his zipper, her hand stilled. She looked up at his strict, beautiful face. "I'm not asking for any. I just want tonight."

He grabbed her and pulled her against his warm, hard body, cradling her neck in his hand, a powerful taking that stole her breath away. He placed a finger on the underside of her chin and tilted her head until their eyes met. "Don't misunderstand my meaning," he said, his mouth cascading over hers. "I want more than just tonight, Dusty. I'm just not in any position to make any commitments right now." This time, his lips didn't brush hers. Instead, they covered her with heated need—aggressive, desirous, savoring need.

"Tonight, though," his fingers tightened on her neck, "tonight you will be all mine," he growled.

"I'm all yours," she whispered the truth. Not breaking from his potent stare, her steady fingers found his hips. She tugged down his pants and wrapped her hand around his thick, torrid flesh. He groaned, and she stroked him harder. He felt so powerful in her hand. A burst of hot liquid soared between her thighs, causing a moan to surge from her.

He took a step closer, wrapping his arms around her. His strong, big hands grasped her by the ass, and he pulled her up. Impulsively, her legs wrapped around him. He thrust her up, and as her body came back down, the thickness she'd held in her hands just seconds ago completely filled her. She threw her head back and let out a loud cry as she stretched open for him.

Allowing her body time to conform to his fit, he held her snug. "You okay?" he breathed into her ear.

Her arms tightened around his neck. "Yes." Recognizing the unwarranted concern, she said, "Ya know, while I may not have had a man in six years, I haven't left my needs, uh...neglected. There was, um...some probing involved."

"Fuck, Dusty Owens! You're gonna kill me saying things like that, girl." The vibration of the husky tease tickled her flesh. He rubbed his lips across her neck. "Well, now I'm gonna be the one doing the probing, and I guarantee it's gonna feel a lot better than any sex toy of yours. Just let me know when it's all right to move."

"Like this?" she asked, certain he didn't intend to have sex with her while standing up.

"Yes, just like this," he assured her with a wicked grin.

"You can do it, uh...like this? Really?" She had always assumed it was one of those things, like the jump over the bar, that only happened in the movies and her books. But Colden's confident gleam told Dusty it was time she stopped underestimating the man's capabilities. Her insides tightened with anticipation as the realization hit her that he could do anything he said he could do.

He chuckled. "I sure the hell can. Besides, after the image you just put in my head, all those, uh...extracurricular activities, I'm afraid the second I put you on that bed and lay on top of you, that might be it for me. I don't wanna deny you at least one more orgasm before I get mine."

"But we don't have a fence or wall to lean against and...I-I don't think—"

Her words were blunted by the indent of strong, gripping fingers. Colden pressed their bodies closer together, guiding her hips up and down, each time going deeper. Her bare, sensitive clitoris chafed against him, her nipples peaked, and her skin seemed to burst into flames. On the brink of another earth-shattering climax, she cried out each time she pressed down to meet his every upward thrust.

Holding Dusty in his arms, every muscle in Colden's body was strained and taut. He'd thought it would have weakened his need for release, but he couldn't have been more wrong. On the contrary, it only intensified every feeling. The contact of their flesh, the friction of her tightness around him, and the way she grabbed and pulled on him from the inside was about to make him explode.

Still, he had to hold out for his pretty girl. He couldn't promise her tomorrow, but he'd be damned if couldn't give her one more orgasm before he took his own release. He squeezed her nice ass and held Dusty until her body stilled.

It took a few moments for her to stop moving, but when she did, their eyes met. Hers were glowing with hunger. "Colden..." In nothing more than a harsh breath, his name had fallen from swollen red lips.

"Shh..." He hushed her with a kiss. "Hold me tight." He slipped his hand between them, searching until he found her soft budded flesh. The second he touched it, Dusty let out the most beautiful sound, something between a cry and a moan. Holding tightly around his neck, her hips bucked to move freely. "No, sweetheart. Stay still." He kissed her until her body went slack and that sexy sound of hers vibrated against his lips. "There you go. Relax. Let me play with you."

"But I-I want you now," she said, her tone throaty and destitute.

Intensifying the pressure, he stroked her more rigorously. "And you shall have me, but first I need you to..." He nipped her bottom lip. "In the worst way, I need you to cum." No sooner did the words leave his mouth those sexy sounds of hers turned into a shudder of satisfied screams.

She pulled his hand from between her legs. "Now! I need you now!"

Trying to stay inside of her, he lowered her to the bed. With his jeans still wrapped around his ankles, he shuffled over her and kicked them away. Dusty's soft body encased him as he slid deeper into her warmth.

"You are perfect." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, slowly easing himself out of her. She gazed up at him through heavy lids and long lashes that veiled dark, wanting eyes. "So perfect," he breathed, then arched and plunged his hot hard flesh back inside. He delved deeper into her with each rhythmic push, and she matched his insistent need.

Everything inside surged to his already heavy balls, to the tip of his rigid, hot, pulsating flesh. "This is it," he said, his throat dry and scratchy. He gripped her hips, pressed them into the mattress, and pumped himself repeatedly into her until...

"So perfect, sweetheart!" His teeth clenched. "Fuck, Dusty!" He called out her name once more before everything inside of him spilled into her.

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

Not fully awake, Dusty felt a faint tickle on her arm. It could have been a bug, but recalling where she was and who she was with, she didn't want to risk taking a look. She didn't want to move. She just wanted to stay there forever. The tickle feathered up her arm. Curiosity getting the better of her, she blinked, and when her eyes focused, she glanced over.

Propped up on an elbow with the side of his head in his hand, Colden was gazing down at her in the bed, smiling as he drew little circles on her shoulder. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said in a sexy-as-hell morning voice.

The odd giddiness in her belly from the endearment made her beam like a princess for about a millisecond before she blinked the ridiculous fairytale silliness away. "What time is it?"

Colden leaned down and swept a chaste kiss across her shoulder. "Around nine thirty."

"Nine thirty?" She never slept that late. Then again, her recent "extracurricular activities," as he'd called them, hadn't involved Colden and oh so many orgasms. He'd kept her up half the night, though she wasn't about to complain about it. For all she knew, the fairytale could end with a curse, locking them up in that motel room forever, and she would have been perfectly fine with that. It was about the only way she'd be able to forget reality, about The Bucking Barrel, Sissy's wedding, and the fact that Colden James really felt absolutely nothing for her.

The night before, as she lay in bed, naked in his arms, Dusty had realized that Colden couldn't care a whit about her. He knew the danger he'd bring to Odessa when his cover was blown. He knew it would be too risky to stay at his family's home, so he chose to take advantage of the ancient-history crush she still had on him. He'd purposefully swindled her into letting him hide out at her place, and that had put Dusty in danger. If Colden had an iota of care for her, he wouldn't have done any of that.

His claim that he'd come back for her was a lie. He'd really come back to protect his family. And, sure, Dusty was aware of all of that prior to spreading her legs for him, prior to opening her heart to him. Yes, before she allowed him into her, body and soul, Dusty had accepted that Colden James wasn't in love with her. As she assumed, he was only looking out for himself. Much like holding a gun, the government had also taught him a screw-others-and-protect-yourself mentality. Now, she'd been screwed, both literally and figuratively. She owned the blame for it, though, because she knew exactly what he was doing, and she'd let him do it—not once but three amazing times.

Colden gathered her into his big arms and pulled her on top of him. As if he sensed her distress, his eyebrows crawled together. "What's wrong?"

She tilted her head from his view and buried her face in his warm chest. Mentally acknowledging that she'd messed up was one thing, but to admit it aloud would be an entirely different story.

He didn't press her for an answer, and things were quiet for a few minutes. "Don't worry," he finally said, stroking her hair. "I'm taking you home today."

Her head jolted up, and green, cautious eyes were gazing down on her. "You are?"

"Yes." He drew a finger lightly down her cheek. "It's safe now."

"Oh." She paused to soak in the moment, Colden lovingly caressing her. "Good." She slumped back down on his chest, rested her chin on her hands, and gazed up at him while the gentle touch of his fingers continued along her hair.

"Like your family, Sissy was in danger too, huh?" Her cousin had decided to move into the James residence when Dusty purchased her own home. She wanted to give Dusty her own space, but Sissy couldn't stay with her father, a man of very few words after her mother had passed away. Of course, Sissy and Jimmy slept in different rooms. Mrs. James was a liberal woman but not that liberal.

Colden's hand stopped moving. "No, never," he assured her. "There have been agents assigned to look after my family, Sissy included. Everyone's safe, Dusty. I promise, I never would have let anything happen to your cousin."

"So that's why you had the gun with you when we went out to dinner?"

"Yes."

"And that guy, the one at my house, who was he?"

"He was working for Riggs, the gun-smuggler I was assigned to while I was undercover."

"So when your cover was blown, this Riggs sent that creep to my house to kill you?"

"So it seems. Special Agent Jack Norton, the man in charge of the investigation, hasn't officially updated me on the situation yet, but I'll get all the details when we get back to Odessa."

"Did Jimmy and your family even know what was really going on? That they were being watched by the Feds?"

He shook his head. "The undercover creed means we can't talk to anyone about what we're doing, kind of like a sequestered juror or something. That's safer for everyone. I'm sure now that DeSanto's in custody and Riggs has been apprehended, Norton's no doubt informed my family."

"They caught Riggs?"

He shrugged. "They must have. Norton said DeSanto gave them enough to go on and pretty much assured me they were about to take the man down." He tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "We've been cleared to return home."

Guilt consumed her. Over the past few days, every chance she'd gotten, she'd given him hell. "Look, I'm sorry I've been a pain in the ass," she said in a near whisper.

His lips turned up a little. "It's partly my fault. I was afraid that if you knew I'm one of the good guys, you'd walk right out that door. Other than handcuffing you, there wouldn't have been much else I could do to stop you. I had to keep you in the dark a little for your own good."

"Ah, so you were _trying_ to scare me?"

"I know, I know." He grinned. "You weren't scared. You were just...pissed."

"Yeah, well, that's putting it mildly." She smirked. "Really, though, I could never be afraid of you," she said under her breath as she drifted her eyes from his strong hold and looked at his shoulder. His tattoos curled up to his neck, and she followed the scrolling trail down his arm and his left side. "Hey!" For the first time, the swirly design transformed before her eyes. "It's a...oh my God! It's a tree." She touched his side and ran her finger up it. "This is the trunk, right?"

"Yep."

"Now that I know what it is, I can make out the branches."

"The guy I was assigned to, Riggs, owns a legit' tattoo shop. Every time the FBI took someone down because of my intel, a week later, I'd have the son-of-a-bitch add another branch." He chuckled. "He kept asking me why I didn't let him just finish it all at once."

"And what'd you tell him?"

"That I prefer a slow work-in-progress because it means more."

Dusty looked at him in awe. Like the break in her heart, Colden had permanently altered himself to remind him of the past. She rested her head on his chest. Even if he had broken her heart again by putting her life in danger, staying at her home, and then dragging her ass with him on his little unexplained, impromptu road trip, a small part of her couldn't blame him for it. Some sacrifices were inescapable when trying to look out for the greater good, and in some sense he'd been looking out for hers.

Dusty hadn't said a word during the trip back to Odessa. Like in the bed that morning when she'd been concerned for her cousin, Colden sensed her distress. In the truck, he tried to place his hand over hers, but she pulled away. She'd always affected every part of him, and that rejection wasn't any different. His chest tightened, muscles tensed, and his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his concern locked up inside.

He hadn't lied to her the night before. Promises were something he couldn't offer her, but with the Riggs situation contained, Colden could finally start to think about his future, one that wouldn't involve him being anybody but himself. It was time for him to be Colden James, and while he was doing that, Colden wanted Dusty by his side.

Truthfully, he'd fallen in love with Dusty years ago. He'd been in love with her ever since she'd tossed not only her attitude but also those dark, sultry eyes his way. They had reached right inside and had stolen his heart. He'd been hers ever since, whether she knew it or not, and now the time had finally come for him to claim her as his own.

He decided during that quiet truck ride that after he settled things with Jack Norton, he would give Dusty what she evidently needed— promises. Then maybe when he reached for her she wouldn't pull away. Of course she still might, but after he came clean, he wouldn't let her get away with it so easily. After he proclaimed his love to Dusty Owens, there wasn't going to be anything she could do to get rid of him.

Six years ago, he had run from what he felt for her, and he'd regretted it every day since. He went to Detroit because an agent had been killed and because the government had said they needed him. He left because working for the ATF had always been one of his dreams. Those events did play a role, but the truth was, once he'd had a taste of Dusty, the feelings that had assaulted him—like none he'd ever felt before—had scared the hell out of him. So, when the opportunity to run had presented itself, he took it.

Now, he was no longer a scared, reclusive young man on the run from the keeper of his heart. Colden was an entirely different person, ready to face what he felt for Dusty Owens. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

He pulled into Dusty's driveway and parked behind Sissy's car. He grimaced when he saw Dusty's truck still sitting on the front lawn, with a bullet-blown tire.

As soon as he killed the engine, Dusty opened the door and jumped out without a word.

"I'll be back after I meet with Jack Norton, and—"

"Don't bother." She pulled her bag over her shoulder, fixing her eyes on her stranded truck. "Now that it's safe for your family, you can stay with them."

"That's not why I was staying with you," he said, but she refused to look at him. "Dusty, we need to talk."

Black eyes flashed at him, emotionless and defeated. "We've got nothing to talk about. This genie is done granting you wishes. Go stay with your parents, St. James."

"Dusty, I—"

The stony façade ruptured, and her face became alive with pain. "What? What do you want?" Her voice cracked. "Don't think I don't know what you really came back here for. It was for them, not me. You only said that to convince me to..." Her eyes glossed over with what appeared to be tears, and his body went numb. "I get it though. I would have done the same thing to protect my family, but in looking out for them, you put me in danger. You knowingly brought it into my home, directly to me. You didn't think or care about that, did you? Let's face it, Colden. You don't care about me. Never have. You just used me for—"

"No!" The meaning of her harsh accusations took a few seconds to sink in, but when they finally did, he started to jump out of the seat to go to her.

Dusty shoved out a warning hand to stop him, and the unwavering, hurtful look on her face put his body in motion to a complete stop.

Glad he was gripping the steering wheel, he clenched tighter. Anger consumed him. He didn't want to cause more problems by reacting too harshly. Instead of releasing the angry beast by trying to explain himself, he decided to give her some space. She needed time to think about what she was exactly implying. After all, he had kidnapped her and locked her up in a motel room. Of course she would have mixed feelings about the whole situation, about him and what, if anything, was going on between them. He'd stolen years of togetherness away from them and, although he really didn't want to waste any more time, he could give her a few more hours to settle down, to see why he'd stolen her from her life for a few days.

Before he left, he took a deep breath, softened his tone, and said, "I'll be back in a couple hours, and we _will_ talk."

Ten minutes later, Colden pulled up to the local police department and met with Jack Norton. The five-minute conversation not only killed his future plans with Dusty, but it also had Colden an hour later jumping on the next flight back to Detroit.

"There's no need, Sissy. He'll be here," Jimmy James tried to convince a pouty Sissy.

Dusty sat in the background, watching the two of them, as she nursed a beer. After the rehearsal dinner, they'd decided to stop in at her bar for a few drinks.

"When did you talk to him last?" Sissy spat.

"The day he left, but—" Jimmy said, attempting to defend his AWOL best man and brother.

"Stop!" Sissy ordered with a stomp of her foot.

Jimmy let out a noisy sigh, but Sissy's future husband was smart enough to keep his mouth shut and his ears open.

"So you don't know for sure that he'll be here for the wedding, do you? I'm not gonna have Dusty walking down the damn aisle alone." She put her hands on her hips. "You need to pick a replacement, and you need to do it now!"

Dusty shook her head and giggled, fully aware that, as usual, Jimmy James was about to do her cousin's bidding. Much to Dusty's surprise, however, he grabbed Sissy around the waist and pulled her to him.

"Now you listen here, my little love." He snatched her by the chin. "I get that you're nervous about our special day, but I'm not gonna let anything or anybody ruin it for you." Sissy tried to turn away, but Jimmy pulled her chin back in his direction. "If Colden says he'll be here, he _will_ be here." Before Sissy could respond, Jimmy bent forward and kissed her, not at all in a hasty way. No, the way Jimmy James kissed his soon-to-be wife right there in the middle of the bar had every girl in the place feeling it to the toes of her boots. When he finally pulled away, Sissy was breathless. "Now, I don't wanna hear another word about it, okay?" he said, pulling off that wicked James smile, the one Dusty had covertly been missing for the past few days.

"Oh, uh...okay," Sissy stuttered, staring up at her fiancé through new eyes.

Dusty took another swig of her beer. _So it's settled, right?_ Per Jimmy, tomorrow Colden James would return to Odessa for the wedding just because he'd said he would. She didn't have the heart to tell Jimmy, or Sissy for that matter, that Colden's word meant junk. For when he had dropped her off and said he would return so that they could "talk," Dusty had sat on the sofa like a fool and waited for him. A few hours had soon taken her to dawn. She'd gone into a laughing fit for being foolish enough to think he would actually come back, and then she'd finally fallen asleep.

It was six years ago all over again. They'd had sex, and he'd disappeared the next day, leaving her brokenhearted again. The only difference was that this time, the bastard didn't even bother to mend her broken fence.

# CHAPTER TWELVE

Anxious about whether or not Colden was going to show up, Dusty hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. She had a glass of milk, then a few glasses of wine. She took a warm bath, and when that didn't work, she got into bed and started to count sheep, though she never made it past the first one or two, because her mind wandered to the sheep she'd seen at Mr. McAllister's a week after she and Colden had broken the old man's fence. That one sheep was out in McAllister's pasture all by its lonesome, baaing away. She could still remember standing there feeling just as lonely as that dumb, woolly animal. For the first time since Colden had left, she had allowed herself to cry. She'd made a promise to herself that day that she'd never allow Colden James or any other guy to make her cry again. No matter how bad he'd hurt her, Dusty had held true to that promise. She hadn't shed a tear for the Saint, although she'd come mighty close to it the night before.

Dusty locked the door behind her after she entered the bar. She was there early to set up for the after-hours party. The ceremony and reception would be held at the opera house, but it closed at eleven. Afterward, Jimmy and Sissy wanted to keep the party going at The Buckling Barrel.

She'd finished counting the beer bottles and was working on the liquor when she lost her count, startled by the hammering on the door. "Shit!" She hit the clipboard on her thigh and glanced up at the clock. It was far too early for Travis or any of the other delivery guys. Whoever it was, she hoped if she ignored the knocking, they'd go away.

Instead, the banging grew louder.

Really not in the mood to deal with whoever it was, she stomped over to the door, tipped up on her toes, and looked out the small window. Green eyes shot through the glass and touched her entire body.

"Shit!" she repeated, then slapped the clipboard on her thigh again. "Damn it." She dropped down from her toes and slumped against the door.

Her heart was about to beat right out of her chest. "It's okay. You got this, Dusty girl," she tried to convince herself as she jumped back up to steal another peek out the window.

Colden was dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark jeans, and his hair had that flyaway, bed-head look.

"Damn it! Why does he have to look so...good?" She fell away from the window. "Okay." She shook her head and took a few breaths. "Just open that door and tell that Colden James just where the hell he can go with that sexy body and heartbreaking smile of his." She unlocked the deadbolt and placed her hand on the knob. "You can and will do this. You're a strong, independent woman." After she was through with her little pep talk, she yanked the door open and immediately spat, "What the hell do you—"

But she never got the chance to finish her sentence. Colden grabbed her behind the neck, pulled her to him, bent his head, and kissed her.

All thoughts of dismissing the man immediately took flight away from her independent-woman head. She dropped the clipboard, jumped up and threw her arms and legs around him, and deepened the mind-altering kiss.

With their lips locked and their tongues frolicking, Colden took a few steps into the bar and kicked the door closed. "Are you alone?" he got out between kisses, locking the door behind him.

"Yes," she breathed into his mouth.

"Good." He carried her over to the pool table and set her ass on the edge of it. Wedging a hand between her thighs, he glided past her shorts and panties.

When a thick finger entered her slick wetness, she let out a whimper.

"Damn, girl." He looked down at her with that wicked James smile. "Are you always ready and waiting for me?"

Far too gone, captivated by the heat in his eyes, overtaken by his touch, she didn't bother to defend herself. He had her ready within seconds, and she was indeed waiting, if not wanting. He bit down on his lower lip, wiping away the naughty smile. The action pulled her hips toward him.

Holding her eyes to his, Colden unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. "That's good, 'cause I'm ready too." He took her hand and lowered it to his waist. "Touch me, Dusty girl. I've waited too long already."

No further invitation was necessary. Dusty reached into his pants, wrapped all five digits around his thickness, and freed his full, throbbing erection with a tug. She sheathed him with her hand, moving up and down over Colden's straining masculinity.

"Sweet Jesus!"

He gripped the edge of the pool table and tossed his head back. The veins in his neck thickened. The intensity of his strained posture excited and encouraged her. A few strokes later, his head lifted. Heat glowed all around his large, manly form, and the scent of sex filled the room. His hand slipped back between her legs, finding the damp, moist, needy part of her. He played with her there as the heat radiating from his body reached up to somewhere low in her belly. She squeezed the aroused flesh in her hand. It pulsated, and the reaction wrenched a cry from her.

Forget about the past few days, she needed him inside of her right then.

"Dusty..."

The low, husky whisper jolted her head up, and Colden's eyes were waiting for her.

"I've missed you, my pretty girl."

She wasn't sure how to respond, not entirely ready to surrender to the man who'd made it a habit of breaking her heart. Secretly, she had missed him, and—hot damn—her body undeniably needed him too. "I-I, uh..."

"It's okay." He stopped her struggle with one feathery kiss. "I know." He tilted his head to the side. "You hate me," he smoothly teased with a smile, "but I'm gonna try to persuade you otherwise by pulling your panties to the side and slipping my cock deep inside you."

His bold words gave her a mini-heart attack. "You..." A panting spell threatened, but she quickly recovered. "You think that'll work?" she tried to tease back, clandestinely begging for his follow-through. Her thighs clenched, and her clitoris peaked against his touch. She had never needed or wanted anything so bad in her entire life.

"Yes, my pretty girl, it'll work," he hummed just over her mouth. "I'm gonna fuck you so good. I'm gonna fuck you so hard . And, one way or another, I'm gonna get rid of all that hate too."

Squeezing her legs around his waist, she arched her back and closed her eyes. _Yes! Oh yes. Do it! Do it now!_ She was sure Colden didn't love her, but there was still a definite sexual attraction between them that desired to be fed. Furthermore, in that moment, Dusty wasn't thinking about love. She just needed him inside of her, and she needed it right then and there.

"But first..."

When he paused, her subconscious bitch-slapped her. Dusty's eyes shot open. _What did he just say?_ Then it registered. "Oh no!" Her body went still. He was trying to set stipulations before he fucked her. "No buts! You take me right here, right now, _so_ good and _so_ hard, just like you said, St. James!"

" _First..._ " he bantered, ignoring her appeal.

She scowled, and under her breath, she hissed a barely audible, "God, I hate you."

"Oh, c'mon." His eyes twinkled at her temper. "It's not that bad. It's easy really. Before I take care of that hate, you must agree to let me pick you up for the wedding."

_That's it? Hell, I can do that._ "Fine. Okay. Whatever." She would have agreed to anything to get him where he belonged, right between her legs.

"I like when you're a good girl." He tapped her thighs. "Now, drop your feet back to the ground."

"But you said—"

"Just do it," he ordered in a tone that offered no room for an argument.

Her legs slipped from around his waist until her feet hit the floor.

"Turn around."

Her hands fell from his neck, and she looked at him hesitantly.

He circled his finger. "Around."

She huffed and twirled until her back was to him. "There," she sassed.

"Good girl."

The heat from his breath branded her left ear just before he yanked her shorts and panties from her body. She felt the palm of his large hand on her back.

"Spread your legs wide," he commanded as he pushed her forward.

Her chest hit the top of the pool table. Naked from the waist down, she stretched her legs apart. The wetness nestled between her thighs hit the cool air, and her insides blazed with need.

"Perfect." His hand moved from her back, down and over her bare ass. "You are perfect."

Weakened by his touch, by the praise, she dropped her shoulders. Her face nearly fell to the green felt, and she released an awkward whimper. Until Colden, she hadn't known that she could whimper.

He leaned over her, pulled her hair back, and kissed her on the cheek. "Time to get rid of all that hate, pretty girl." He placed both of her hands behind her back and held them there.

She raised her head and looked over her shoulder. Colden stood to the side, gazing at her naked backside. The hungry look aimed at her bare ass made her nervous. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"I'm deciding which cheek I wanna hit first."

"Hit?" _Wow!_ She jerked her shoulders and tried to pull her hands free, but he held her strong.

He turned and looked at her, instantly silencing her by the dominance shining in his eyes, the dark part of him she'd always been attracted to. "Didn't I tell you?" he said with a naughty smile. "I plan to beat all that hate out of you."

Watching his hand lift, her body tensed. Like two striking fingers, reality snapped her from his control. "You'll do no such—"

Smack!

His hand made contact with her skin. The heat between her legs, the heat penetrating from Colden, all that hotness, soared to the spot where his hand had made contact, sparking a fire deep within. Another hard slap landed on her other cheek. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the bar. Again, a surge of heat filled her entire body.

"Colden!"

He gently skimmed the tips of his fingers over her sore bottom. "Dusty..." he said, practically humming her name.

She rolled her hips. "Oh my God!" The light touch of his fingers over her ass curled the ache deeper into her womb. She arched, pushing her backside up in the air, wanting more.

Colden's large hand slid between her thighs, and deft fingers brushed over her clitoris.

Her hips rolled, begging for him to continue.

"I'm gonna spank you till you beg me to fill you here." He thrust what felt like two fingers inside of her, a move that ripped another whimper from her trembling lips. "I'll slap that perfect ass of yours until you tell me the hate is gone, till the only thing you feel..." He pulled his fingers out, then pushed them back in. "...until all you need is me."

"Colden!" She bit her lip when he slapped her hard across the ass again. "Oh! Hell, I'm already there," she said, gasping for air. "Colden," she said, surrendering. "I'm there. All I need is you, Colden. Please!"

With both hands, he grabbed her by the hips. "Then you shall have all of me," he said, and entered her fully in one deep thrust.

Dusty didn't whimper or cry. She screamed, screamed out loudly in utter bliss.

With one hand still holding her arms behind her back, he reached around her waist and pulled her close. He started to take her. He took her so good. He took her so hard. He took her again and again against that pool table...

He took her until she hated him no more.

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

With her God-awful bridesmaid's dress in hand, Dusty dashed into the opera house an hour earlier than scheduled. She had to get out of her house before Colden picked her up for the wedding. She couldn't have cared less about breaking the promise she'd made to him, especially since it was one made in the throes of passion. The way she saw it, she owed him one for not showing up when they'd gotten back into town after he'd kidnapped her. _An eye for an eye._ Now, if only she could rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it a few times, as he had hers, the score would be truly settled.

There were a few people scurrying around the place, trying to get everything set up. She waved a hello to Mrs. James. The woman always looked great, so it was fitting that she was the dictator of the flowers and decorations, a job she'd claimed early on in the engagement. Dusty was thankful for that because she had no eye for things of such nature. She would have had no trouble finding a place for a ten-foot beer poster or a neon sign, but she had no idea where to put topiaries and lace.

Holding a bouquet of white lilies in her hand, Mrs. James pointed. "Sissy's already here, hon'. She's in the back, getting ready."

Dusty smiled. "Thanks."

As she maneuvered through the place in the direction Colden's mother had indicated, the back door suddenly swung open, and out came trouble. Luke O'Conner, better known as "Lucky," Sissy's older half-brother, was a force to be reckoned with.

Dusty smiled, well aware that under the crisp, white dress shirt and simple black tie there were over six feet of flesh-covered tattoos. Just a few months ago, his head had been shaved for a new skull tattoo, but it had all grown back. It was now a short, fashionable length, though still unruly, thick and dark brown, with a hint of that Irish coppery tint. With a full head of hair, or even bald, he was a handsome guy. His eyes were a brilliant blue-hazel mix, and when he smiled, they twinkled. With nothing more than a fleeting glance, the boy could break a roomful of hearts. Of course, he wasn't really a boy anymore. Somehow, he'd crept into his early thirties.

Dusty hadn't seen him since a few months earlier, when, at the beckoning of Aunt Lulu all of the cousins had gotten together. It was the last time she'd seen Lucky's twin brother too. Fallon wasn't as lucky as his brother, who had earned his nickname by escaping many brushes with death. Fallon's wife had died five years earlier, and he'd taken it real hard, isolating himself to his sailboat. Everyone had been surprised to see him at Aunt Lulu's. He'd sat quietly in the background during the family meeting, and after their beloved aunt informed them of her terminal illness, Fallon had gotten up and walked over to her. All of them had watched with bated breath as Aunt Lulu whispered something in his ear just before he kissed her on the forehead and left.

As Dusty thought through that memory, she realized she was sure going to miss their yearly get-together at Aunt Lulu's. She doubted she'd ever set eyes on Fallon again. The impending loss stirred in her belly, and her walk turned into a gallop until she made it into Lucky's big arms.

He hugged her, lifting her feet off the ground in a spin. "Hey Dust'!"

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said as he gently lowered her back down on her feet.

He tapped her once on the nose, making her feel ten years old again. "Of course I did. I wouldn't miss my wee little sister's wedding."

"What about Fallon?"

He grimaced. "Nah, he ain't ready." He shrugged. "Hey, Jessina's comin' and bringing her new hubby, though."

"Oh good!" She gave him an impish grin. "Did you hear that story?"

"I sure did." He chuckled, cramming a hand in his front pocket. "I talked to her though. She says she's in love." He shook his head. "Ya know what they say. There's no cure for love other than marriage. I guess it don't matter how it happened, so long as she's happy. "

"At least she got out of all this." She waved to the flowers and decorations as if they annoyed her, though she had to admit they did look beautiful.

"So how 'bout you, Dust'? You in need of a cure for the loves?" He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly. "Roped yourself a cowboy yet?"

Dismissing every thought of Colden that had popped into her head, she laughed. "If you're talking about love and marriage, the only thing I'll ever be married to is The Bucking Barrel. What about you? Any gals getting Lucky lately?" she asked, quick to divert the attention back to him, knowing full well that he was a committed bachelor.

"No girl will ever get _this_ Lucky." He pointed to himself while wearing a wolfish grin and then tilted his head upward. "Hey!" He squinted. "Is that Colden James?"

Hearing his name made everything from her neck down want to drop to the floor. Just to hold the garment bag in her hand, she had to concentrate. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Colden was heading straight for them. The look on his face broke her concentration. Like everything inside of her, the bag dropped to the floor.

When the airplane wheels had touched down, the first place Colden had gone was to Dusty's house. When he couldn't find her there, he'd set out for the bar. He wanted to explain why he'd left her yet again, but the second she'd opened the door, he'd instantly realized that all the whys in the world didn't matter. All he cared about was being inside of her—heart, body, and soul. He'd certainly succeeded at the body part, even if he wasn't sure about the rest.

He planned to work on her soul and her heart when he picked her up for the wedding. He'd even gone an hour early to get her so they'd have time to talk on the way, only to discover that he'd been stood up. He should have known better. After all, he had hurt her really bad, all over again.

As he stormed into the opera house, his mother tried to stop him, but he brushed by her when he caught sight of Dusty in the back. Some guy was standing in front of her, too close for Colden's comfort. An inferno ignited deep within and began to burn with a dangerous heat. It was the same feeling he'd experienced at the bar when he'd seen that hulking beer delivery guy grab Dusty, the same feeling that had overtaken him the night Dusty had flaunted that sleazebag Britt Weber in front of Colden's face. Still, he had a real difficult time recognizing it for what it was— jealousy.

"Colden!" his mother called after him, but the building fury inside pressed him onward.

When his eyes adjusted to the dim light and he recognized that it was only Dusty's cousin, Colden's inner gladiator lowered his wielding sword.

"James," Dusty's cousin greeted him with a curt nod.

Colden glanced over at the guy, trying to remember his name. _O'Conner? Luke? Yeah, that's it, but doesn't everyone call him something else? Hmm...Lucky!_ At that moment, the man was most certainly lucky, had he not been related to Dusty, Colden would have had a real problem with him being so close to his girl. "Luke," Colden returned, not comfortable calling the guy by his nickname. He glanced at a muted Dusty. Owning her nervous eyes, Colden bent down to pick up the bag on the floor. "Sorry," he said as she anxiously followed his every move. "I musta been late picking you up." He handed her the bag, wearing a small smile.

She snatched the bag from his hand. "You weren't..." she started but then trailed off, quickly catching on. She pushed a few fallen strands of hair behind her ear and looked away.

The anger in her words resonated in his ears, but it was the hurt in her eyes that shattered his heart. He reached out and cradled her face in his hands, gently turning her head until their eyes met. "I really am sorry, sweetheart." He leaned, only meaning to brush his mouth over hers, but when they made contact and he melted into those warm lips, he couldn't pull back.

"Colden Saint James!" The call of his full given name and the smack on his shoulder by a bundle of flowers jolted him back to reality. "Let the poor girl come up for air, son. You two've got a bride and groom to tend to!"

Colden turned to his left and saw his mother standing there, holding a bouquet, fully prepared to give him another full floral whack if he didn't do as she said. She really didn't seem to care about the kiss, unlike Lucky Luke, whose right eyebrow had lifted curiously. Then again, Colden's mother never questioned things. She just moved along with life's ebb and flow, adjusting and adapting where necessary. At that moment, she wanted Colden to tend to his younger brother.

"Yes, Mother," he said, trying to pacify her.

She tapped her hand on her watch, the flowers flapping with the motion. "Need I remind you that you're supposed to pick him up from the house in twenty minutes?"

"I just need—"

His mother's finger shot up, silencing him.

He dropped his hands from Dusty face, and the corner of Dusty's mouth quirked as she tried to stifle a laugh. He looked at the two women and had to accept that one or both of them could easily put him in his place.

"I'll go get him, Mrs. James," O'Conner intervened. "I'd like to have a few words with my soon-to-be brother-in-law anyway," he said, wearing a crafty grin. Colden couldn't blame him, if he'd had a sister, he probably would have been the same way.

His mother looked at Luke for a few hard seconds. "Okay." She pointed the flowers at him. "Just be sure to leave within the next five minutes." She smiled politely at all of them then walked away and went right back to barking orders at all her little helpers.

The awkwardness lingered in the air like a day-old onion in the trash, and Luke must have gotten a good whiff of it. His nostrils flared as his eyes toggled between Colden and Dusty. The lopsided grin now pinched both corners of his mouth. "So, James, what have you been up to?"

Colden ran a hand through his hair and turned to face him. He wasn't really in the mood for small talk, but he was willing to put up with it if it would allow him to be alone with Dusty sooner. The sooner O'Conner got through the chitchat and went to pick Jimmy up, the better. "I've been working for the ATF in Georgia." He ignored Dusty's eye-roll at the partial lie.

"No shit?" Luke murmured, his attention moving to Colden's neck. "I see you got some ink too."

Colden's hand slid from his hair to his neck; the past few days of stress had had him rubbing it. "Yeah." He sighed. "Hey, don't you own a tattoo shop?"

"Yeah, a couple of 'em. Gonna be opening a few more too. Why? You lookin' for some more artwork?"

"I think so, but my guy's kinda tied up right now and probably will be for a while. He was working on this sort of tree design on my back, and I need one more branch added for it to be complete." Although Riggs had done the entire tattoo, Colden knew he'd never be the one to finish that last branch, which would only be put on once he was caught. Now that he was locked up, it was time for Colden's work-in-progress to be completed.

"Sure. I'll take a look at it and see what I can do." He pulled out his wallet, rifled through it, and handed Colden a business card. "Just gimme a call when you're ready."

"Thanks, man." Colden slipped the card in his pocket. "Now I'm afraid I'm gonna have to steal your cousin for a bit. She owes me a few minutes of her time."

"I don't owe you a damn thing," Dusty snapped.

He reached his hand out to Dusty, overlooking another curious eyebrow lift from O'Conner. "Look," Colden said, causing her eyes to flash to his, "you can take my hand and come willingly, or I can pick you up and carry your ass out of here. Either way, you and I are gonna have a little talk."

"Hey, cuz," O'Conner said, seemingly concerned.

Colden shot him a warning look, but the guy wasn't paying any attention to him and was grinning at Dusty.

"Ya sure you ain't in need of that cure after all?"

Colden wasn't sure what he meant by the odd comment, but O'Conner's smart-ass grin only seemed to irritate Dusty further.

"Screw you, Lucky!" She pushed Colden's hand away. "C'mon, but I've gotta check on Sissy before we talk."

O'Conner grimaced and shrugged. "Just don't drown, cuz."

"Huh?" Dusty said, her face red with rage.

"You're clearly in denial," he said, laughing at his own play on words. "Just don't drown in it!" He tapped Colden on the shoulder as he walked away. "Good luck, man."

Dusty stomped off with Colden right behind her. She'd hoped to escape Colden by leaving the house earlier, but at the very best, she'd only escaped being alone with the man when there was a bed on the premises. The balcony in the opera house quickly came to mind.

"Ouch," Sissy hissed when Dusty pulled on her hair too tight.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she tried to get it together long enough to help a nervous bride with her hair, dress, and makeup. She tried to avoid thinking about the man who was waiting just outside the door for her, and she kept reminding herself that it didn't matter what he had to say. She refused to fall for the Saint. _Never, ever again!_ It was a whole lot safer and a little less painful to just love him from afar. Shit, she'd been doing that for six years, and she could do it for a lifetime if she had to. It hurt too much to believe or to even hope that they could ever be together. Then again, she couldn't say that hurt more than knowing he didn't care about her.

Really, the reminders that she should just let him go had begun the moment Colden had entered the opera house looking sexy as hell in that tuxedo, his hair wild as ever and his green eyes almost exploding with intensity. When he'd grabbed her face and kissed her, it had been gentle, even savory. She'd had to remind herself then not to fall for the Saint, had to tell herself that the Saint was no more. Colden James was a new man—a clever, arrogant, sweet-talker with a big heart and a rock-hard body that she simply couldn't stop breaking herself against. She was beaten and tired.

Dusty wasn't normally one to give up a fight, even if it seemed to be a losing battle. In everything else, she always held out to the bitter end, but after the call she'd gotten the day before, she had let tired and beaten get the best of her. She was scheduled to meet with Agent Norton, Colden's boss, the next morning to give her statement about the man who had broken into her home. The agent explained that he had some loose ends to tie up in the case because it was the last day they'd be in town before he and his team moved on to their next assignment. That call had confirmed her suspicions. Colden had only come back for the wedding, and tomorrow he'd be gone.

She hoped that if she could refuse him in the flesh, perhaps when he left, it would make it a little easier. All she had to do was avoid him for one more day. The trouble with that was that he would be walking her down the aisle in a matter of hours. He'd be dancing with her at the reception, and they'd have to sit at the same table all night. It was impossible for the maid of honor to avoid the best man, particularly since he was already waiting right outside the door to have a talk she didn't want to have.

"What's wrong?" Sissy asked, looking at Dusty through the reflection of the mirror. She had an expression on her face that no bride should ever wear— worry.

Knowing she'd upset her cousin on what was supposed to be the most fabulous day of her life, Dusty felt guilt tightening her belly. "Nothing." She placed the last pin in Sissy's blonde hair then looked back at her cousin, whose big blue eyes didn't appear convinced. "Really, it's nothing," Dusty said, smiling and gazing at Sissy. "Gosh, you look beautiful."

Sissy sighed. "He's out there isn't he? Waiting, or something?"

"Who?"

"Pssh, you know who. Colden. I heard you two. He whispers very loudly."

"I'm sorry. He says he just wants to talk to me, but—"

"But you don't wanna talk to him?"

"Not right now."

Sissy got up from the chair, stomped over to the door, opened it, and whispered something to Colden, so lowly that Dusty couldn't possibly hear what she was saying. She then stomped back into the room and closed the door. After walking up to Dusty, she turned with her back to her. "Zip me up now, and then you're free to go get ready...without any further distractions"

"He's gone? Really? What did you say to him?" She stood and zipped up the gown.

"I simply told him the truth, that I need my maid of honor today, and he needs to behave like a good little best man and back the fuck off of you till after the wedding."

Dusty laughed. "And that worked?"

Sissy glanced over her shoulder. "I find the truth always works best. Besides, I think I scared him when I said the eff-word." She offered an impish smile. "I think he knew I meant business, seeing as though I rarely swear and would probably never do so on my wedding day—unless it's in the honeymoon suite," she said coyly.

"Sissy!"

Sissy shrugged. "That Colden isn't so tough. I think I scared the man."

"Thanks." Dusty leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

"See? Your little cousin can save your ass too sometimes."

"Wow. Two swear words in a single day. My, my, Mrs. James. Aren't you becoming a bold little thing?"

"Yeah, I guess." She bit her lip. "I kind of like it. Mama used to cuss when she got real mad." She turned around, her eyes wet and glossy.

"Aw, Sissy. You must really be missing her today."

Sissy dabbed a tear from her eye. "Yeah." She cleared her throat. "It's okay though. I know she's watching from above, no doubt, cussin' Daddy out for the way he's been since she left us. Can't blame the man really. I'd be lost without Jimmy. She was the love of his life, just like Jimmy's mine. Maybe someday Daddy will find happiness, but I'm sure thankful for you, Dusty...and Daddy too. We never woulda survived losing Mama without you."

Dusty watched as, right before her eyes, her little her cousin transformed from a kid into a woman. She'd made her proud, and she deserved to be with the man she loved. _Everyone does,_ Dusty thought with an aching sadness in her heart.

"Now go get ready," Sissy said, shooing her away. "You can't very well walk down the aisle in jeans and a t-shirt, can you?"

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Dusty had made it through the long and horrible trek down the aisle, the toast, and the dinner without Colden trying to back her into some dark corner so they could talk. He respected Sissy's wishes and remained a perfect gentleman.

In fact, he barely touched her during their aisle walk. His smile never reached her eyes when he gave the humorous yet beautiful toast. Even during the meal, she'd fallen absent from any of his conversations. He ignored her, just like she thought she'd wanted, but the sadness in her heart kicked into overdrive. Secretly, shamefully, and selfishly, she wanted the Saint's attention.

The bride and groom's first dance came to an end all too soon. When the next song started, Colden's large hand held out in front of Dusty was her cue to get up. Up until that moment, she'd forgotten all about the traditional wedding party dance. She looked up, prepared to see that dead, blank stare he'd been throwing at her all night, but under those heavy lids, Colden's eyes had come to life. They flickered with something dangerous. The last time she'd seen that look, she'd been bent over a pool table with her bare ass up in the air.

The sadness in her heart started to mingle with the naughty desire she found in Colden's eyes. One thing was for sure, there'd always be a sexual attraction between them. She took his hand, and he helped her to stand.

Once she was on her feet, she tried to pull her hand away, but his grip tightened. With the touch, his demeanor changed from oozing sex to a more genuine, casual, tender smile. It gave her sad heart a little tap.

He turned, and together they walked out on the dance floor. The entire time, Dusty could feel the undeniable passion, the closeness, and the need. She felt it in both of their hands. Colden had been right, holding hands was a very intimate thing. Everything she needed and wanted from him, all the love she held for the man, generated to the hand entwined with his. It was a lover's serenade, by way of a simple touch. She felt naked and exposed, as if her feelings for Colden were on display for everyone to see, including him.

As he twirled her around to face him, she tried to remind herself to stay strong and not to give into the Saint. _The song will only last for three, maybe four minutes_. But when their eyes met, time stood still, and the song and the ticking of the clock made no difference any longer. She was lost to him.

He raised their joined hands and wrapped his other arm around her. His warm palm rested gently on the low of her back. He tilted his head to the left, and the heat of his breath sashayed over her shoulder. "It's only one dance, Dusty girl." He ventured closer to her ear. "Put your hand around my neck. We gotta make this look good, right?"

It must have been the sexy, underlying hum that lingered in his voice whenever he gave a command, for as always, she found herself following his every instruction. He started to guide her slowly around the dance floor in an ethereal sway. His head lifted, and intense eyes gazed deeply into hers.

She turned away from his influence, unable to bear his stare.

"Look at me," he ordered in that calm yet stern tone.

As usual, she obeyed.

"You look beautiful tonight."

Struck by an odd bout of bashfulness, she tried to lower her eyes. "Thanks."

"Ya know," he said, his careful eyes not letting her go, searching her, and making her more nervous, "I had every intention of coming back to your house, but—"

Finding her absent strength, she placed a hand over his mouth to stop him from breaking her heart by making excuses that really wouldn't change the fact that he was leaving. "Just one dance, remember?" Her hand slipped along the side of his face and back around his nape, the motion stirring his potent male scent.

"It doesn't have to be." He curled their joined hands close to his chest, pulling their bodies more tightly together. "I have a lot to offer you, Dusty—a lot more than just one dance."

The sincerity in his words almost— _almost_ —convinced her that there was more between them than just romps in balconies, cheap motels, and on pool tables. But then her thoughts dashed all those hopes again. _Sure, he has a lot to offer tonight, but come tomorrow, he'll be taking off with the rest of his team._ The sadness in heart came back full throttle. Unable to look any longer into those false promising eyes, she lowered her head onto his chest, wishing that the song would last forever.

"Dusty," he rasped, and the unusual desperation in his voice vibrated from his chest to her ear. His finger glided down the side of her face. "Come on." He tapped her under the chin. "Let me see those pretty eyes."

Powerless to his command, she tilted her head back. His finger stroked her chin, and the expression on his face drew her in. Neither the new Colden standing in front of her nor her old Saint had ever looked so uncertain before.

"I need you, girl," he whispered. Then, right there in front of an audience of 200, he bent in and kissed her.

Colden hadn't intended to claim her on the dance floor. He certainly hadn't planned to kiss her either. Honestly, though, since he caught sight of her in that dress, it was all he could think about. The pale aqua color of the frilly fabric flattered her fair skin. She was wearing clear, shiny lip gloss, and her long hair was pulled up into an elegant updo, with locks spilling loosely all around her face. The slender shape of her neck and shoulders would have tempted any warm-blooded male, let alone one who'd been famished for her for days.

He couldn't be blamed for stealing the kiss, and the fact that she kissed him back gave him hope. He slid his hand up her back and clasped it around her willowy neck. Their lips separated. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes glistened with need. Not only was she breathing heavily, but she was also breathtaking.

Dusty glanced around the dance floor that was filling up with guests. "Looks like our dance is over."

"No, Dusty girl." He squeezed her hand and reclaimed the space between their mouths. "Our dance will never be over," he whispered over red, swollen, trembling lips.

She stared up at him through long, dark lashes. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed the fact that there was some serious thinking going on in her head. Doubt, anger, and tiny sparks of anticipation flashed in those nearly black eyes.

When she tried to break free, he assumed her doubts had won. He held her tight, close, as if he never wanted to let her go. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Like I said, the song is over, and I'm through dancing with you." She lifted her chin. "So release me."

"You're not going anywhere."

"Colden..." Anxiety flourished loudly within that single breath of his name.

"I'm not letting you run away again. You're gonna stay right here and hear me out."

Unable to fight him any longer, her body became placid in his arms. "Good girl." He smiled, and her eyes hissed up at him. "Six years ago, the night before I left," he said, running his thumb gently across her nape as he swayed her along the dance floor, "it had been the best night of my life."

"What?" Her heavy lids sprang open. "If you...then why did you leave?"

"You and me, we were way too young," he said, and it was the truth. "What I felt for you was just...wild, dangerous. I couldn't control it. If we had tried to work at it, sweetheart, we would have fucked it all up. You were just becoming a woman, and me? Well, I wasn't the same man then—"

A small grin tugged on her pretty red mouth. "You don't say."

He smiled. "I know. I was a lot quieter back then and sorta kept to myself, but that wasn't the real me. This guy, the one standing before you now...this is who was hiding behind that false, scared façade."

"Scared?" She snorted. "You, Colden James, were...scared?"

"Oh yeah," he assured her. "From the moment I met you, you scared the hell outta me—not only you but also what I felt for you. So, the morning after we were together, when I got the call from the ATF asking me to come to Detroit to help out, the frightened part of me jumped at the opportunity to make a quick getaway. I wanted to run away from you, away from what I couldn't understand or control."

The grin disappeared, and Dusty's eyebrows crept together.

"See, before I met you, I actually was in Georgia. What people don't know is that I was transferred from Georgia to Detroit to do some undercover work. At the time, the ATF had decided they didn't need me and had let me go. I came here then, just after you arrived. Two years later, when I got the call to go back to Detroit, they told me about Kip, the agent who had trained me. He'd been killed, and they wanted me to replace him. I didn't know it was going to end up costing me six years of my life, Dusty."

"I-I didn't know," she faintly said.

"No one did. Hell, I didn't even know what I was getting into until it was too late. I assumed you'd just marry someone else and have kids."

She laughed. "Like I was just telling Lucky, the only thing I'll ever be married to is The Bucking Barrel."

_Ooh, she has no idea how wrong she is,_ Colden thought as he palmed her smiling cheeks and gazed into her sparkling eyes.

Her laughter subsided as she fell into the stare.

"If I have any regrets over the past six years, it's that I wasn't able to tell you the truth. I never meant to hurt you." He pressed a kiss to her forehead and looked back at her. "This last time, I had every intention of coming back so we could talk, so I could tell you all of this, but when I reported in to my agent in charge, I found out that my cover hadn't been blown at all. In order to finish the transaction we started, the one that would, once and for all, take Riggs down, I had to return to Detroit."

"Huh? You mean that DeSanto guy was lying? I thought you said Riggs sent him."

"We were wrong. As it turns out, that lunatic was on his own mission, trying to get on Riggs's good side, earn a promotion by exposing me on his own."

"What?

"Yeah, he had a hunch but little proof, so he started to spread the word into the right ears. That's why it got back to the FBI that I'd been found out. I'm not the only undercover agent in the gun ring. When I left Riggs, I told him my mother was sick and that I had to go to her. When I returned to Detroit, word hadn't gotten to him. He still had no clue that I was an undercover agent. DeSanto was full of shit, just making guesses, and he hadn't told his boss anything yet."

"Oh my God! What if you were wrong? That Riggs guy coulda killed you!"

He shrugged. "The risk of getting caught, it's all part of the job. After so many years, you sort of become immune to the fear." Honestly, she still scared him more than the job ever had, but he wasn't about to admit that to the woman. "But it's all over now." He brushed his knuckles gently across her cheek. "It's time to move on."

"Yes," she whispered with a faraway look in her eyes. "Time to move on."

Colden wanted to question that faraway look in Dusty's eyes, but his new sister-in-law interrupted by cutting in on their dance, and all he could do was watch Dusty walk away.

"You really do care for her, don't you?"

He turned to Sissy, who was gazing up at him with an almost strange approval. "Who, Dusty?"

"No, Colden. I mean the other girl you kidnapped, and then skipped town on twice too many times."

"Yeah." He grimaced. "I guess I was an ass to her, but in my defense, I only did it to keep her safe."

"I believe you." She glanced at Dusty. "I'm not so sure she does though."

"Well, I was starting to talk to her, but you stepped in and cussed me out like some kind of drunken sailor, remember? How can you even wear white with a mouth like that?" he joked.

"For the record, it's slightly off white," she snapped right back. "And you had her rattled. She was so upset, and I couldn't have my maid of honor, my best friend, and my favorite cousin feeling like that on my big day. I knew you'd get your chance to be alone with her on the dance floor, but by the look on her face when I approached you two, I can see she's still not a happy girl."

"I just told her the truth."

Sissy's thin eyebrow lifted. "You did? All of it?"

"Yes. I explained why I had to leave." Like Sissy, he couldn't figure out why Dusty was still upset.

"Obviously, it wasn't enough," she said as they methodically swayed on the dance floor. A few seconds later, she glared up at him and released a little, "Hmm..."

Colden could always tell when someone was reluctant to say what was really on their mind, and his sister-in-law's hesitance put him on guard. No stranger to interrogating someone, he was more than prepared to press her to find out what she was thinking.

"Did you know, Colden, that my mother had three sisters and one brother?"

"Yes," he said, watching her suspiciously, unsure where she was going with the question.

"One sister was diagnosed with depression. The family hardly speaks to her, but it's not because of that. There are some other things going on in her head that just aren't right. Then there was Aunt Lulu. Everyone said she was eccentric, but we all know she was a little nuts. My mom might have been touched a bit by the crazies, but for the most part, she kept it together. The third sister, Dusty's mom, was not so crazy, but she did win the prize for being selfish."

Colden's feet slowed. Sissy had his full attention now, for Dusty rarely spoke of her immediate family. He held his tongue, waiting patiently for her to continue.

After Sissy smiled and waved to a few of her guests, she turned back to him. "Dusty's mother had married young to an older man. He didn't work because he didn't have to, since he had a big inheritance to live off of. They liked to travel a lot. When they had Dusty's brother, Matt—"

His feet stopped dead in their tracks, halting the dance. "Dusty has a brother?" he asked in disbelief, having never heard that before.

"Yeah. You didn't know? He's five or six years older than Dusty, a pretty busy man. We don't see too much of him. He was at Aunt Lulu's, though, when she got us all together before she—"

"Yeah, I heard about that. I'm sorry for your loss. I know Dusty was very fond of her too."

"I do miss her. Nut or not, Aunt Lulu was the best. It was impossible not to adore her." She shook her head and blinked a few times, perhaps an attempt to shake away her tears. "She was nothing like Dusty's mom, a mean woman who only cared about herself. I think Dusty was an accident." She dropped her voice. "I overheard Mama say that Dusty's mom said she was a mistake, but by the time she realized she was pregnant, it was too late for her to do anything about it."

Colden couldn't believe any mother could ever say such a thing about her child, and it sickened him. As Sissy carried on, Colden determined that the safest thing for the woman who had birthed Dusty was to stay as far away from him as possible.

"Needless to say, because Matt was older, their parents left Dusty with him whenever they went on their excursions. It happened all the time. When Matt went off to college, they stuck Dusty in boarding school, but after Matt graduated, he tried his best to take care of her himself. As Dusty got older and smarter, she realized she was holding her brother back from having his own life. That was when she convinced him to let her stay with Aunt Lulu." She waved and smiled at someone, then turned back to Colden. "Look, on the outside, Dusty might seem to be a strong, independent woman, but deep down, she has some serious issues with abandonment."

Her smiling eyes turned serious, and his sweet little sister-in-law proved just how intimidating she could be. He knew Jimmy wouldn't stand a chance against Sissy. She was fearless and, for the first time, appeared unbreakable. He felt sorry for his brother, but he was proud to call her his sister.

She tipped up on her toes and looked him straight in the eyes. "Now, if you intend on walking away again, I suggest you just leave her the fuck alone." She grinned, patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before she strolled away.

A sunny smile fastened itself to her angelic face as she greeted her guests, and he realized that his new little sis was a strong addition to the family. Like Dusty and his own mother, she had put Colden in his place. Being stunned and then left alone in the middle of a dance floor wasn't somewhere he wanted to be for too long though.

Still, looking like an idiot didn't bother him nearly as much as what Sissy had just told him. He wondered why Dusty had never mentioned her brother and why she'd never said anything about the horrible things her parents had done to her. They'd abandoned her, just as he had done twice. His stomach drew tight as he realized she probably didn't talk about it because it was simply a wound too deep to think about.

He had to prove to her that he cared about her, to show her he wasn't going to hurt her. Most of all, Colden had to convince her that he would never, ever leave her again. She was hurt, scared, and reluctant to trust him. With this newfound information, if he wanted to get anywhere with her, he knew he'd have to go slow.

When he finally found his legs again, he walked off the dance floor. His mind was already devising a plan, something that would allow him to mend those fences once and for all.

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The party was slowing down, and Odessa's six-pack of heartbreaking hellions were good and drunk. Dusty had just packed two of them into a cab, and three others had slurred their way into sober girls' cars for a safer ride home and probably a most interesting nightcap. As for the last one, Sissy was holding him up out on the makeshift dance floor at the bar. Making her way to her office, Dusty shook her head and smiled. Odessa was never going to be the same, now that the six-pack was short a heartthrob. Then again, nothing in Odessa was going to be the same for Dusty now that she'd been with Colden James again either.

With Sissy married and obviously well taken care of, Dusty figured it was time to move on with her life, maybe make some big changes. She even thought about selling The Bucking Barrel and starting a new life somewhere else, in a place that didn't remind her of the man she was in love with. Since the first time Colden James had shifted those dark green eyes her way, she'd found him unforgettable. She thought a change of scenery might help her get past him.

Earlier in the night, she'd caught those penetrating eyes on her, but now it appeared as though Colden had left the bar. She hadn't seen him in over an hour. She'd known all along that his departure was inevitable, but it still didn't make the ache in her heart hurt any less.

Perhaps she'd pull a St. James and run too. There was no government agency willing to offer her a quick getaway from her life, of course, but she figured she'd get enough for the bar that she could go just about anywhere. Sadly, the only place she wanted to be was wherever the Saint was. Shaking her head, this time over her foolishness, Dusty walked into her office and put the cash bag in the safe.

When it came to her foolishness, she wanted to blame it on the fact that mental instability ran in her family. However, in her aching heart, she knew it came from the love she had for Colden. She was never going to be able to get away from the feelings she had for him, no matter where she went.

With that on her mind, she turned around, only to find him standing in the doorway to her office.

His tie was gone, and with a few buttons undone, his shirt was open. He leaned casually against the doorjamb, looking scrumptious as ever.

"I-I thought you left," she blurted.

"I wouldn't go without saying goodbye to my favorite girl," he said, his voice deep and husky. With the absence of undergarments beneath the bridesmaids dress, her breasts swelled and her sensitive nipples tweaked against the thin material. "So tell me...do you want me to say goodnight?" he drawled as bold, determined eyes touched her everywhere. "Or would you rather me come in and kick this door shut?"

She licked her bottom lip, but before it all registered and she could give him an answer, Colden stepped into the room. With a tap of the foot, he pushed the door closed.

"Uh..." She struggled for her next breath as he took a few more steps into the room. "You didn't give me a chance to answer."

He stopped. "But you did. I saw it in your eyes. They're begging to be alone with me."

"Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but—"

"Really, Dusty, don't try to deny it. Need I remind you what happened the last time you did that, back in the opera house?" He paused, casting a glance down her responsive body. "Up in the balcony?"

"You mean when you seduced me, just like you did in that damn motel room?" she rushed out, fearful of him getting too close to her Colden-deprived body.

"No." He drew nearer, and her heart panicked. "I didn't do anything to you that you didn't want me to do." He halted in front of her.

"Fine. It's true." She swallowed hard. "There's no denying it. Like I said before, I'm sexually attracted to you, but that's all there is between us, all there will ever—"

He picked her up, swiped her desk clean, and set her on it. "You think that's all it is? An attraction?" He leaned in toward her. "The way I see it..." He touched her mouth with his finger and drew a line to her cleavage. "You waited six years for me because, deep in your heart, you know you belong to me."

He couldn't have been more right, but she refused to admit it. She did need him and want him, and even if it was to be the last time, she would have him right there in her office. "Tell ya what, St. James. I'll belong to you." She leaned in close to his tempting mouth. "But just for tonight."

His lips curled up into a smile. "Just tonight?"

"Yes." If he thought that he could just come back every six years and she'd be waiting for him, whether her heart belonged to him or not, that was just nuts, and she wanted to make that clear.

"All right. We'll start with tonight." He took a step back from her. "Now," he said, unzipping his pants, "spread your legs wide for me." Colden reached in and pulled himself out of his slacks. There wasn't anything hotter than seeing Colden's big, strong hand wrapped around his thick cock, the very thing she wanted deep inside of her. "C'mon," he coaxed while giving himself a nice, long stroke. "I know you aren't wearing any panties, so get those legs apart, girl. I want in there real bad." His fingers tightened around the engorged flesh he held in his hand.

Wanting him in there too, Dusty placed her palms on the desk, leaned back, and opened her legs.

Colden's eyes darkened with desire. "Wider."

When she obeyed, he rewarded her by tugging the top of her dress down until her swollen breasts popped free. He caught her nipple between his thumb and index finger and squeezed hard. The throbbing sting caused her to cry out for more.

"I love that sound," he said, pinching her even harder.

She whimpered for more.

"Now lift your dress and let me see that pretty pussy, sweetheart." Heat smoldered from his sexy, hot stare. He stroked himself a little faster as he tugged on her sensitive nipple.

That was all the inspiration she needed. She pulled her dress up, exposing her thighs. When Colden groaned, she yanked the material up around her waist.

"Fuck," he growled, and the sound pushed a bout of desire out from between her legs. "Touch yourself."

The need in his tone lowered her hand to the hottest part of her body.

"Yes. Oh yeah. Damn, girl, that's hot."

In an attempt to get closer to Colden, Dusty scooted to the edge of desk.

"You want this, don't you," he taunted, holding himself close between her thighs.

With her eyes fixed on his erection, she nodded.

Colden moved forward. Guiding the thickness of his head, he rubbed it over the soft folds of her pussy, causing her to shudder. "Such a good girl. You're always so wet and ready for me, aren't you?" He drew himself back up her bare flesh. "You like that too, huh?"

She nodded again. Her hips thrust forward as she slid the wetness from the slick, damp heat over her tender clitoris.

This time, Colden shuddered. "Let me taste you. Put that naughty, wet finger in my mouth."

The request turned her on, and as usual, Dusty did exactly what he demanded. When Colden's lips slit open for her finger, more desire spilled out from between her legs.

"So good," he said after taking a lick of her wetness. "Now, tell me what my naughty girl wants."

Drowning in desire, Dusty didn't hesitate. "I want you deep inside of me, taking me hard and fast."

Colden's eyes grew darker, almost black. He grabbed her by the hips and thrust himself into her, stretching her with his thickness. He held himself there. She tried to move her hips, but he had a good, strong hold of her. He smiled down at her and rolled his hips once.

She dropped flat on the desk. "More, Colden. Please! I-I want all of you," she pleaded.

He gripped her thighs, spreading her wider, and pressed closer until his body was flush with hers. "Don't move." His fingers dug into her flesh to keep her in place as he slowly moved in and out of her.

Desire began to build deep in the low of her belly. On fire, and about to have a total meltdown, she tried to sit up.

He leaned over her. "I said not to move. Do you want me to fuck you hard and fast, or do you want me to stop?"

"No, don't stop. I want it, Colden! I want you hard and fast," she admitted, far too gone to care how desperate she sounded. Needing him to be in control, she lowered back on the desk. "Please! I can't take much more, St. James. I'm so, so hot," she begged, preparing for release.

His hand wedged between her legs, finding the hottest part of her. "Here?" He circled his finger over the sensitive hood of her clit just as he glided upward, deeper inside her. "Are you hot here, sweetheart?"

Her eyes rolled back as she shuddered a breathy, "Yes..."

"And, if I keep doing this, are you gonna cum?" His finger played with her naked, wet flesh.

In response, she arched her back, and her throbbing breasts lifted for his touch. "Oh, God! Yes!"

Both hands reached up and captured her nipples. First, he rolled them gently, then he pinched them, squeezing harder as he grinded his body into hers. "What about this? Does this make you hot too?"

She peered up at him, and all of her feelings for him gathered to her center. "Yes, anything," she panted, the sensation becoming heavy and fierce. "Wherever you touch me, you make me hot." She tried to hold back the emotions, wanting to break from deep within, but he moved upward and somehow touched them. "Colden, baby! Oh yes, baby!"

"Cum! Cum right now. Show me you belong to me, Dusty girl."

Once more, her entire body responded to his every command, and her orgasm broke free. Colden pinned her hips to the desk and drove himself so hard and fast into her that it felt like her climax would last for an eternity. At least it had lasted long enough for Colden to call out her name in his own release.

The ride to Dusty's house was silent. Colden was still speechless from what had happened in her office. After having not only the best but also the most meaningful sex in his life, he had gathered Dusty into his arms. It seemed like a fitting time for him to confess his feelings to her, but before he could say anything, she started to cry. His strong-willed, stubborn, fearless Dusty girl had wept in his arms for nearly ten minutes. Colden hadn't been sure what the hell to do, so he'd just held her.

When she'd finally pulled back from him, her eyes red and puffy, he tried to find out what was wrong, but short of ordering her to tell him the truth, she refused to talk about it. She had tried to push him away, but because he refused to leave, she had eventually agreed to let him take her home.

He had thought he'd made some progress in her office. Everything was going so damn well. She had wanted him, and he was certain that she needed him as much as he needed her too, but now it appeared he'd read her all wrong.

Somehow, he'd messed things up, making her even more upset with him. How was he supposed to convince her that she meant everything to him when she cried after they had sex? Did she regret it? He couldn't bear the thought of her regretting them being together.

He pulled into her driveway and put the truck in park. During the entire ride, Dusty hadn't changed position. Her head was turned from him, looking at nothing in particular out the window.

"Dusty, what happened back there. What did I do to make you cry?"

"It doesn't matter," she said in barely a whisper.

"Yes it does." His aggravation kicked his voice up a notch or two.

She lifted a hand. "Just stop! I can't do this anymore." She reached for the door handle. "There's nothing between us other than good sex. Go back to your life, Colden, and I'll go back to mine.

"Dusty..." He touched her arm to stop her from running.

"I'm serious, Colden. We're trying to grasp on to something that died over six years ago."

"Don't say that," he pleaded to the back of her head. "Damn it, Dusty, look at me!"

Her head slowly turned, and he prayed that she wasn't crying again. But when she looked at him with that blank, dead stare, he wished for those puffy, red eyes to resurface. At least there had been some kind of emotion behind them.

"Sweetheart..."

"Save it, Colden. I know how you really feel about me."

"Good...then you know I'm crazy about you."

She glared at him for a few seconds, as though she didn't believe him.

He held his breath and told himself he was going to go slow with her. "The only reason I came to Odessa was for Sissy. Now that she has someone to take care of her, it's time for me to move on."

The statement put a little crack of worry in his heart. "No!"

"Yes, Colden. I've already decided I'm selling The Bucking Barrel and moving away from here. This has never been my home. I don't belong here."

"Maybe this isn't your home but there is one place you do belong, Dusty girl...and that's with me."

"How dare you say that, Colden James?" Her face turned bright red. "You have no right! You left me just like everyone else did." Akin to his heart, Dusty's voice cracked a little. "You're no different. Even Matt, my own brother, left me. Do you know I haven't seen him once since I came to Odessa? I'm so mad at him. Just like you, he claims to have good reasons for his absence. It seems I tend to surround myself with people who put me last on their list."

Colden listened to her, his heart no longer cracked but lacerated and bleeding. She had never spoken of her brother because she was angry with him. Apparently, he'd hurt her too. If she could ignore her own sibling by setting her mind to it, she would certainly have no problem blocking him out of her life too. He had to admit that the notion frightened him.

Obviously, she was too upset for him to try to sway her thinking. He wasn't really sure if he ever would be able to, but he wasn't going to give up that easily. She was dealing with someone who was in love with her, someone who needed her, someone who wasn't ever going to leave her again. Heart, body, and soul, Dusty Owens would always belong with him. "You're not, nor will you ever be, last on my list," he said. She opened her mouth, but this time, he held up his hand. "That's enough, Dusty Owens. No more tonight. You run along, go inside, and put that sweet little ass of yours to bed. I'll see you tomorrow, when you've calmed down a little, and we'll talk about all of this then."

She turned back to gaze out the window. "But you're leaving tomorrow, and—"

He snatched her chin, and forced her to look at him. "Leaving?" he asked, as she glared at him with such uncertainty. He leaned forward and kissed her tense lips until they softened. When he pulled back, she was breathless but still shooting doubt his way. He stroked her jutted chin with his thumb. "Believe me, girl, I've got nowhere to go in a hurry, at least not until we've settled this. Now do as I say, off to bed with your ass," he ordered.

Again, she glared at him for many seconds, but like a good girl, she ultimately obeyed. She climbed out of the vehicle with a huff and stomped into her house.

Maybe, just maybe, there's hope for us after all.

"Thanks for coming in today, Miss. Owens," Agent Norton said as he walked in carrying a cup of coffee and a folder. He dropped the folder on the desk. "Can I get you anything?'

"No, I'm fine." The sooner she got it over with, the sooner Colden would be leaving. It was that very thought that had made her break down in his arms after they'd had sex. She didn't want him to leave, yet she couldn't ask him to stay.

Norton lifted his coffee and looked at her from over the mug. His eyes were a warm gray, but the five-day shadow made him appear hard and gruff. "I read over your statement. It looks good. They're typing it up now, and you'll just need to sign it."

"Great," she said, watching him riffle through some papers on his desk. He picked up the folder he'd brought in with him, and a photograph slipped out and fell on the floor. Recognizing it, she leaned over and picked it up. It was a picture of her and Colden standing in front of The Bucking Barrel, back when it was still Rusty's Tavern. She remembered the day it was taken, the first time she'd met him. Sissy had gotten a new camera and was taking pictures of everything. Colden wasn't looking at the camera but was staring at Dusty, who was smiling for the shot. Now, seeing the picture, she recognized the expression on Colden's face, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Oh...and there's the infamous troublemaking photo," Agent Norton said.

"Wh-what," she stuttered.

"That's the photo that caused all this trouble. I never would have thought Agent James would have been so careless."

"I'm sorry. I'm not following you."

"My agents know they can't keep any personal things with them out in the field, nothing that would link them to their real lives while they're working undercover." He shook his head. "Despite the rules, James continued carrying that photo around with him. When he discovered it was missing, he came to me about it. That was right around the same time when we thought his cover had come into question. We couldn't be certain that someone hadn't found the photo or that it wouldn't connect James to this place or to you."

"You mean this photo might have set DeSanto off about Colden's true identity?"

"Yes. In fact, we later learned that it was the key factor. He found the photo in Agent James's wallet and, thanks to all these modern-day social networking sites and that tattoo on your face, DeSanto was able to locate Rusty's Tavern and place James with you here in Odessa."

"He never said anything," she said, more to herself than to him.

Norton chuckled. "Yeah, he had one hell of time confessing it to me. Frankly, Miss Owens, it was a real stupid move on Agent James's part. I could only put one detail on the case, and it was either cover you, the girl in the photo, or my agent's family. Normally I would have put James in protective custody, but he adamantly refused to go anywhere, fearing that you'd be unprotected. Unable to make that promise, I decided the best thing to do was to make you his responsibility."

"Wait...he was assigned to protect me?"

"Yes. For the first four days, we sat back and observed, but when he found out about his brother's wedding and everything seemed quiet, I had him come out from the shadows. We needed to shake things up. The government wasn't willing to cover the case much longer, so we had to do something to draw Riggs out. James didn't like it one bit, but I knew he'd keep you safe. Hell, the man carried your picture around, the only rule he ever broke. You obviously mean a great deal to him, Miss Owens."

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sissy was already gone on her honeymoon, and Mrs. James hadn't probed Dusty when she stopped by looking for Colden, she simply stated that she hadn't seen him all morning. Dusty passed by The Bucking Barrel, but his truck was nowhere in sight. After that, she decided it was best to go home. If everything Agent Norton had told her was true, she thought maybe Colden would come looking for her there. Then again, she might have pushed him too far and he might have finally given up on her.

Comprehending the truth as to why Colden had returned home was nowhere near as difficult as realizing that he'd care for her for all those years. _Why else would he carry that picture around with him?_

Hope teased her heart as she rolled up her driveway and saw the half-naked man standing in front of the fence with his back to her. His shirt was tucked into the back of his jeans, and the swinging of the hammer seized when she stopped the truck. Colden's head turned over his broad, tan shoulder, and he looked at her.

There was no way she was going to repeat history. Roadside would not be the last time she saw those beautiful green eyes. Dusty parked the vehicle and got out.

Colden turned around and watched her as she walked up to him.

Hope had left her heart. She couldn't rely on it. If she wanted him, she knew she'd have to make it happen. She stopped and placed a hand on her hip. "Does this mean the do-gooder is back in town?" She glanced at the hammer in his hand, ignoring the quiver in her voice, afraid to look at him in fear of what she might read on his handsome face.

"No. Sorry, sweetheart." The gentle endearment lifted her eyes to his. "I'm afraid he's gone forever." Keeping his steady regard on her, he pointed to the fence. "This is just a man trying to fix what he's broken."

"And this?" She held out what Agent Norton had called the "troublemaking photo." "What is this, Colden?"

Tossing the hammer to the ground, he reached out and took the picture from her. Gazing down at it, he smiled. "This," he said, holding it up and looking at her, "is a picture of me and my wife on the first day we met."

_Wife?_ The statement did all sorts of strange things to her body, her head, and her heart. It arrested her ability to speak or to move. The one thing that was working properly was her heart. Its quick beat thundered in her ears and pulsated in her veins. Her emotions wanted to run and take cover, but her heart was yelling for them to stay. A tear crept up to the corner of her eye.

Colden came over and put his arm around her shoulder. "Look real close at the man in this picture, Dusty. You can see it. From the very first moment he looked at his wife, he's been hopelessly in love with her."

"Colden..." Her bottom lip quivered when she said his name. Yes, she had seen it, that look he was giving her in the photo. She had noticed it in Agent Norton's office, and it was partly to blame for her hope.

"You see," he continued, turning closer to her, "no matter what happened, the man in that picture knew he had to keep this photo." He wiped away the warm tear of joy that had finally fallen to her cheek. "It's the picture he intended to show their kids and their kid's kids."

Trembling, she struggled for each breath, still too fearful to say anything, afraid that she'd wake up from what felt like a dream. Colden kissed her on the forehead, which made it more real than dreamlike.

"This photo," he said, lifting it a little, "gave him strength when he had none. When things got real ugly, it proved to him that there's still beauty in the world. And, when carrying his girl in his hardened heart just wasn't enough," he continued, holding her eyes to his for a long second, "I'd look at it and remember you."

His honest face had her completely dissolving into a pool of liquid mess over the Saint, over what he had said to her and what it meant. But like when he had told her he wasn't married, she had to be certain that it was really true before she surrendered her heart.

"But you're..." She stuttered, her heart hiccupping in her chest. "You're leaving, so—"

"I'm not going anywhere. Even if I get down on one knee and you refuse my proposal, I'm staying right here. I'll break as many fences as it takes." He brushed his mouth over hers. "You belong with me, and the only place I belong is with you, Dusty girl."

For the first time in her life, Dusty found a home, right there in his eyes—a place where she belonged. She put her arms around his neck, stepped closer into the circle of her new home, and smiled. "There's just one thing I wanna know," she said, choking back another joyful tear.

"Anything," he drawled.

"How the hell did you learn to ride a mechanical bull like that?"

"Practice, pretty girl—lots and lots of practice." He chuckled.

"Well," she got out between her own laughter, "I want a rematch."

Colden stroked her cheek, and his expression turned tender before he kissed her gently on the lips. "How about we make a deal?"

"Oh here we go," she teased. "Isn't that what got you into all kinds of trouble before?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he confidently said, proving that the cocky new Saint wasn't going anywhere, the one she'd really fallen in love with in the first place. "If I beat you on the mechanical bull," he said, flashing her that wicked James smile, "then you have to marry me."

"And what do I get if...er, _when_ I win?"

"Then I have to marry you, of course."

She laughed. "You've got yourself a deal, St. James."

"That's my girl, always up for a challenge." His arm went around her waist, fingers sank into her hip, and he pulled her a little closer. "You just let me know when you want that rematch. I'm ready whenever you are." He bent in and swiped his nose across hers. "I've got nowhere to go in a hurry."

"No? Well, you've got nowhere to go slowly either." She smiled. "Unless you're taking me with you." She leaned in for a kiss, closing the circle around her, realizing she was home. Dusty Owens was finally, where she belonged.

The End

by

KELLY GENDRON

A five-minute trolley ride, one troublemaking luggage, and two stolen identities. Six months later, two strangers discover they're married. She wants an annulment. He has other plans.

Being illegally hitched is about the only way Chase Lennox would ever be shackled to any woman. But when the multimillionaire playboy finds out he's married to the woman who caused him to lose the biggest deal of his life, Chase decides before he gives his new wife an annulment, she's going to help him close the deal he'd lost.

Jessina Landi has a three-foot radius comfort zone. The last man she let into it cost her a lot more than a broken heart. And the huge debt she owes for that trust, well, it's due. If she takes Chase Lennox's up on his offer, it's sure to cover the bill.

There's an annulment waiting at the end of their rainbow... Well, that's if they can get through the next two weeks without consummating the marriage.

### Also by

### KELLY GENDRON

### DARING THE KANE BROTHERS

### TOKEN

### STEELE

### CRASH

### NIX

### STONE

### BREAKING THE DECLAN BROTHERS

### JAX

### SLATE

### ZEKE

### A TOUBLEMAKER NOVEL

### Broken Fences

### Favorite Places

### Finder Fees

### Lucky Numbers

### Lost Wishes

### The Forbidden Claim

### The Risqué Target

### Satisfying the Curse

### From Siren Publishing:

### Fatal Promise

#  
