Luke: Armed and Dangerous (4 page)

Trinity laughed. “More than likely Killer just wants to sink his teeth into these
stilts you call shoes,” she said, while at the same time trying not to tumble down
the staircase. She could just picture herself landing in a heap, this ridiculously
small red dress up around her waist. Now that would certainly get some attention.

Why had she let Nevaeh talk her into wearing this outfit, anyway? This was more Nevaeh’s
wild style than Trinity’s. The blue backless dress Nevaeh was wearing hugged her generous
figure perfectly, outlining every beautiful curve. And the daring slit on one side
went straight up to her hip bone. Nevaeh carried it off with elegance and style. Unlike
Trinity, Nevaeh never tripped or spilled anything.

Nevaeh greeted guests with a wave and a brilliant smile as they descended. “Too bad
you’re engaged,” she said to Trinity.

“I’m not exactly engaged.” Trinity gave a little shrug as they reached the landing.
“Race just hinted, rather strongly, that he plans to ask me when we get together for
Christmas in a few weeks.”

Guiding Trinity to the lavishly spread snack table, Nevaeh said, “Close enough. And
it’s a real shame.”

“I don’t know that I’m going to say yes, Nev.”

Trinity braced for Nevaeh’s reaction, but her friend didn’t say a word. Trinity glanced
from Nevaeh’s frozen smile to the vat of red Christmas punch with the fifteen-dollar-a-cup
price tag.

Oh, so not. Red punch, white carpet—not happening.

She checked out the bottles of wine and decided on a twenty- dollar glass of Chardonnay.
At least that way if she spilled it on the carpet, it wouldn’t stain. She paid the
bartender, took the wine glass, and cocked an eyebrow at Nevaeh, who was still smiling
like she hadn’t heard Trinity.

“Nev, I just told you that a rich, gorgeous man with a sports car and a British accent
is going to propose to me and I might say no, and you didn’t even scream. What the
hell is wrong with you?”

“Would you look at that cowboy?” Nevaeh leaned close, and Trinity caught her powdery
scent. “The man is to die for. That’s a man who could rock somebody’s world.”

Laughing, Trinity rolled her eyes. “You and cowboys. I never did go for the big-hat-and-horse
types myself.”

“Let’s at least find out his name.” Nevaeh put her hand on Trinity’s arm. “If you
don’t want him, I might. Seriously. That’s one gorgeous hunk of cowboy.”

Trinity shook her head so hard it was a wonder her hair didn’t tumble out of its clip.
“I left boots and spurs behind four years ago. Even if I was free, and even if something
ever came of it, I’m not about to settle down here, where I went through the worst
years of my life.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Nevaeh rolled her eyes. “DropCaps would let you work anywhere. And you
can take the cowgirl out of the ranch, but—”

“Madeline, is that you?” a man’s voice cut in, and Trinity winced at the name before
she looked up to see Noah Ralston, one of the nicest as well as one of the most drop-dead
gorgeous cowboys she’d ever known growing up. At over six feet with that chestnut
brown hair mussed all over his head, he looked like he’d just come in from a long
trail ride. Sexy bastard.

“Noah!” Trinity reached up and gave him a quick one-armed hug, being careful not to
spill her wine. “Dang, but it’s good to see you.”

“Well, hell. I hardly recognized you.” He tweaked a tendril of Trinity’s hair and
gave her his easy grin. “Probably wouldn’t have if Nevaeh here hadn’t told me you
were coming, and that you’d changed. You’re all grown up now.”

Trinity felt heat creep up her neck and she shook her head. “Thanks, big guy. You
don’t look so bad yourself.” And he didn’t. The tall, well-built man was a good eight
years older than she, but she’d sure had a crush on him back when she was a teenager,
until he’d gotten married. He’d always been more like a teasing older brother, one
of the few guys in town who hadn’t tormented her, and she’d come to appreciate him
as a good friend. It had been a real shame when his wife was killed in that car accident,
leaving him a widower and a single parent.

A faint ringing sound met Trinity’s ears over the Christmas music. Noah gave Nevaeh
and Trinity a sheepish grin as he dug the phone out of his pocket and checked the
caller ID. “Sorry, ladies. I’m on call and I’ve got to take this.”

“No problem.” Trinity smiled and waved him off. “We’ll do some more catching up later.”

Noah nodded and put the phone to his ear as he headed up the stairs, probably to someplace
where it was a little more quiet.

“You know that Noah’s an intelligence agent with Customs and Border Protection, don’t
you?” Nevaeh’s smile turned into a frown as she started to add, “He’s here with—”
She stopped as the caterer rushed up and interrupted, telling Nevaeh she was urgently
needed upstairs in the kitchen.

“All right, all right.” Nevaeh sighed and waved the caterer off. “Be right there.”
She turned to Trinity. “Think you can fight off all the men while I go handle this
mini crisis?”

“Sure.” Trinity laughed and raised her wineglass. “I’ll do my best to stay out of
trouble.” Her gaze cut to Killer. “And I’ve got my buddy right here.”

“Go talk to that cowboy,” Nevaeh said, pointing into the growing, well-dressed, and
talkative crowd.

Trinity glanced in the direction Nevaeh pointed, but saw no one special. Lots of fancy
suits, lots of strong, expensive cologne to make her eyes water. Heavy cologne was
such a turnoff. She loved a man’s true scent—most of the time.

She lifted the goblet to her lips. A devilishly adorable guy with jet-black hair and
a neat moustache was gazing at her as he sipped a majorly expensive mixed drink. Black
Armani suit, expensive black hat with a beaded edge, silver cuff links, nice diamond
ring on his pinky—now this one screamed big money and big trouble, didn’t he?

He nodded to Trinity.

She managed to nod back, but felt her cheeks coloring. Old Trinity was still hard
at war with New Trinity.

She let her gaze drift over the party guests, trying to calm herself. It had been
good to see Noah, as well as other old friends. Her thoughts turned to her first days
back in the United States, when she’d stayed a few days with another good friend,
Chloe Somerville.

Two years ago, Chloe had interviewed Trinity about the software projects she was supervising
for Wildgames, and they’d hit it right off. Chloe was a journalist with a popular
San Francisco magazine, but she was going through one hell of a messy divorce. Her
ex-husband was a cheating bastard. Damn, but Chloe needed a good man.

Holiday music and laughter filled the room, and Trinity smiled as she watched couples
dancing to a country-western tune. The room glittered with all the women dressed in
brilliant sequined dresses and from the hundreds of Christmas lights and decorations.

Scents of pine, cinnamon, and hot wine punch started to compete with the cologne,
along with the smell of burning mesquite wood in the fire blazing in the corner hearth.
Sounds, sights, and smells of holidays that reminded Trinity of growing up in Arizona,
and made her feel like she was home.

Home...

No. Home was wherever she decided to go—and that would probably be straight back to
England, one of the hubs for DropCaps. And home would be with Race once he got around
to asking her about sharing his life forever.

If she said yes.

Trinity sighed and tasted her wine again.

Why wasn’t she sure about Race? They’d be good together. She’d never want for anything,
never have to worry about her security—so why did the word no keep flashing through
her mind in pink neon whenever she thought about tying the knot with him?

Was it fear of commitment?

Inability to accept who she was now instead of who she had been?

“You look like a lady with much on her mind,” said a low, enticing, accented voice
to her right.

Trinity startled, and her wine nearly sloshed over the edge of her glass.

The gorgeous man with the dark hair, expensive suit, and obviously expensive hat caught
her elbow and held it steady. “Careful. That is very good wine.”

His accent was light, but definitely Hispanic, and his dark eyes sparkled as he smiled
at her. “My name is Francisco Guerrero, though my friends call me Cao. I very much
hope you will be my friend.”

Trinity felt the man’s gentle grip on her elbow, and the reality of his touch made
her cheeks flush even more. “Cao. Doesn’t that mean gardener?”

“One of the interpretations, yes.” The man’s smile would have dazzled even a seasoned
harpy.

In England, she would have been enjoying this exchange, taking control of it—but here,
she was folding like a cheap lawn chair.

Old Trinity.

God, she was starting to hate herself all over again.

“I’m clumsy with my glass sometimes.” She tried to smile as she extracted herself
from his warm fingers. “Well, I’m clumsy with a lot of things.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Guerrero said, and he sounded like he meant it.

Hair prickled at Trinity’s nape, as though she was being watched from a totally different
location, and a slight shiver skittered down her spine. She knew she was acting slightly
rude to Guerrero, but she couldn’t help pivoting, searching for the source of the
sensation—and she came to an abrupt stop.

Caught her breath.

Heard Nevaeh’s voice bouncing through her mind, whispering
, One gorgeous hunk of cowboy.

Okay, yeah, this must be the guy.

Because he was the most rugged, most handsome cowboy she’d ever had the pleasure of
viewing.

He was standing a few yards away from her, sometimes hidden from view by the flow
of the crowd. The look on his face was nothing short of feral.

Instinctively she took a step back, bumping into Guerrero, who caught her and her
wine both this time. He didn’t keep hold of her, and Trinity noticed that he seemed
angered by the cowboy’s scrutiny.

“My apologies,” Guerrero murmured. “I had no idea you were attached. Please forgive
my boldness.”

He was gone before Trinity could correct the mistake, not that she could have managed
a single word with the cowboy staring at her so intently.

She raised a trembling hand and drained her wine.

The cowboy moved toward her.

Was it her imagination, or was the crowd parting for him?

You’re losing your mind. Trin.

He came closer, closer, a few feet away from her. Now a few inches. She tried to back
away again, but in a quick movement he caught her wrist, drawing her closer to him.
Her flesh burned where he held her, and her mind went entirely blank. She would have
dropped her wineglass if the cowboy hadn’t slipped it from her limp hand and placed
it on a server’s tray.

His expression was so intense that Trinity’s knees almost gave out. And those blue
eyes—God, the way he was looking at her made her feel like he was making love to her
right on the spot.

She tried to pull her wrist out of his iron grasp. “I—let go.”

The man shook his head, the look in his eyes possessive and untamed. “No, sugar,”
he murmured, his liquid-hot Texan drawl flowing over her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Sensual heat scorched Trinity in a rush. It shot up her thighs and waist, straight
to her breasts, and on up to the roots of her hair. He had to be the one she’d seen
getting out of the truck earlier. Even without the cowboy hat and duster, he seemed
just as dark and dangerous. Maybe even more.

Dang, the man was tall and sexy. He had a strong, angular jaw line shadowed by dark
stubble, and the most intense gaze that refused to let her go. God but he smelled
good. Like the clean scent of soap, a hint of malt beer, and 100% Grade A male. The
way the man was looking at her, she could just imagine his touch, his mouth—

Hold on.
Who the heck did he think he was, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere?

Yet she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

Like a deer trapped by headlights... only what had captured her was a pair of wicked
blue eyes and a steel vise grip on her wrist. “You keep some hazardous company, sugar.”

“Excuse me?”

“Guerrero.” The man nodded in the direction Guerrero had taken. “All hat and no cattle—but
lots of guns and drugs.”

The man’s expression faltered, as if he hadn’t meant to say exactly that. Then he
seemed to come to some decision, and added, “Francisco Guerrero is a dangerous man.
If I were you, I’d stay far away from him.”

The man’s expression was so earnest and fierce that Trinity actually felt a thrill
of fear. “I—I never met him before tonight.”

The man’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?”

“Are you a detective or something?” Trinity studied the man, searching for any clue
that might help her get a grip.

“I’m a ranch foreman,” he said, and Trinity almost laughed, despite the fact his fingers
seemed to be burning straight into her skin.

“Yeah. At this party?”

His expression looked tense again. Very nearly rattled. He cleared his throat. “I’m
standing in for my boss. Now, back to Guerrero. You think about what I said, sugar.”
He smiled in a way that could be called nothing short of possessive. “Tell me your
name.”

Trinity swallowed and mustered a defiant look. “Well, it’s not Sugar.” Her voice came
out sounding small and hesitant, and she forced herself to put some muscle into her
tone. “Let me go.”

“Name’s Luke Rider.” His firm mouth curved into a sensual smile that met his eyes,
and she thought for sure her knees were going to just up and give out on her. “It’s
most definitely my pleasure to meet you... sugar,” he drawled, sounding every bit
as lawless as he looked.

Oh. My. God.
Trinity MacKenna had never come across a man that she wanted to jump, then slap,
then jump all over again the moment she’d met him.

Uh... uh... uh... Take me now. I’m yours.