Читать книгу Cowboy Delirium - Joanna Wayne - Страница 7

“Surely you can’t be cruel enough to send me away without so much as a nightcap?”

Jaime Collingsworth found that difficult to believe herself. Afull moon, a gorgeous, fascinating man who was hot for her, and she was going to dismiss him with a kiss at her door. But duty called—and had left two messages.

“We’ve been out late every night this week,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he said, slipping his arm along the back of the car seat to massage her shoulder. “But I have this serious problem. I simply can’t get enough of you.”

“Slow down, tiger. No need to rush the romance. And I absolutely have to get up in time tomorrow to make it to Jack’s Bluff for Sunday brunch. I haven’t been to the ranch in four weeks, and my mother is on my case big time.”

Actually Jaime missed her mother as well. Her family was huge and could be overwhelming, but still, she was looking forward to visiting with all of them, especially her young nieces and nephews. Her new Houston townhouse was great, but Jack’s Bluff Ranch was home.

“You could take me with you,” Buerto said. “I’d love to meet your family, especially that cantankerous grandpa you keep talking about.”

“So you keep saying, but I hate those meet-the-family occasions. They are far too stressful.”

“You sound as if you’ve had a lot of them.”

“Not so many.” But enough that she hated to go through the ordeal when she didn’t have to. “It could be fun, though,” she teased. “You’d be sized up more thoroughly than a new bull being introduced to the herd.”

“Four protective cowboy brothers checking me out and one of them an armed law enforcement officer,” Buerto said. “Why does that not amuse me the way it does you?”

“They all have guns,” Jaime said. “But it’s my mother you’d really have to worry about.”

Buerto waited for the gate to her townhouse complex to open and then drove inside. He slowed as they passed the sparkling fountain, English gardens and finally the privacy border of thick shrubbery.

He stopped in front of her three-story townhouse. “I’ll assure your mother that my intentions are honorable.”

“It won’t help. She knows mine never are.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but it was close enough. Jaime liked guys. She just never fell in love, at least not the way her sister, Becky, and her brothers had.

For her, men were more like a new pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes or a Roberto Cavalli gown. They were intoxicatingly seductive when first acquired, but lost their glamour and excitement when the newness wore off.

There was an outside chance it could be different with Buerto—which was reason enough not to throw him to the wolves this early in the relationship.

She shifted in her seat, letting the short skirt of her sky-blue dress inch up to mid-thigh for Buerto’s benefit as she reached for the door handle.

He leaned across the seat and kissed her before sliding out his side of the car to walk her to the door.

Once up the short walk, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. His advance was interrupted by a black sedan that skidded to a stop behind his silver Porsche.

The doors flew open and three men jumped out. One of the men was short and slightly balding. Another was tall with a crooked scar that ran from his right temple to the center of his cheek. The third was a certified hunk, hard bodied, clean shaven, cocky swagger. And holding a gun.

Panic ripped through her. She and Buerto were about to be robbed. She scanned the area. No one was in sight, and she knew her closest neighbor was out of town.

Two of the men went for Buerto, shoving him backward and pinning his arms against the front wall of her house.

Jaime tore her handbag from her shoulder and threw it into the driveway. “Take the money. Please. Just take it and go.”

The hunky guy wrapped an arm around her and started dragging her to the car. “We’re taking you with us. Better if you don’t put up a fight.”

“Take your hands off her,” Buerto yelled.

The effort to save her earned him a punch in the face. The shorter assailant shoved him to the pavement and kicked him in the stomach before grabbing Jaime’s purse and keys.

Then he put a gun to Buerto’s head. “If you go to the cops, your girlfriend’s as good as dead. Tell that to her family. We’ll be in touch.”

The man who held her lifted her and threw her into the backseat of the car. She got in one swift knee to the crotch that narrowly missed its target.

The taller guy was waiting for her in the car. He reached over and she felt a sharp prick in her forearm. A needle.

“Handle her, Rio,” the needle wielder barked as he climbed out of the backseat.

The hunky thug slid in beside her.

Not about to give in without a fight, she sank her teeth into his shoulder and bit down as hard as she could. He barely winced, but he quickly closed his hand over her mouth and gripped it so firmly she couldn’t even part her lips.

Her vision had begun to blur—no doubt from whatever was in that syringe—but she caught a glimpse of Buerto as they sped away. He was groveling on the ground in obvious pain. He hadn’t died trying to defend her. At least there was that.

The man beside her looked her in the eye, and the intensity of his gaze seemed to crawl inside her. He put his mouth to her ear. “Trust me, and you’ll get out of this alive.”

She’d sooner trust a viper. Her eyes grew heavy and her head begin to spin. This could not be happening to her.

Except that it was.