She finally slowed down to the speed limit and looked around. “You have any idea of where we are?” she asked.
“That was some driving exhibition,” he muttered. “What do you think you were doing?”
“Saving your butt. The driver of the car that was following us didn’t look like any Sunday driver.”
“A car was following us?”
Dana nodded, pulled into a convenience store’s lot out by the air pumps and shut off the engine. “I understand you have some involvement with a drug cartel. I’m no expert, but I’ve seen the kind of cars those guys drive around town. A car like that had been following us since we pulled away from the jail. I figured it was time to shake them loose.”
Was she kidding? “The drug cartel…why on earth would they be following me?”
“Maybe they’re afraid you’ll turn state’s evidence against your friends. Have the feds offered you a deal for information yet?”
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and tried to think. “I spent all morning in interrogation. But no one mentioned any deals. I got the distinct impression they already had plenty of evidence against me. At my arraignment, it sounded like the federal prosecutor’s office wasn’t interested in any more information…or any deals.”
She’d turned in her seat to face him, and he noticed that her body seemed poised for action. Ready to fight or flee at any wrong move. Tense and in perfect control of herself and the situation. This was some bodyguard that Michael had hired.
Now that Marc’s breathing was steadier, he decided to covertly study her, trying to remember everything she’d said. “Did you just say something about the cartel thinking I would turn on my friends? I don’t have any connection to the cartel. I don’t even know anyone that’s in a cartel. Why would you think I did?”
“You were arrested for racketeering, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m innocent. I’ve been framed.” Damn. The woman had the most gorgeous dark brown eyes he’d ever seen, but if she didn’t believe in him… “Look, Dana. If you believe I’m guilty of what they say, maybe we’d better rethink this bodyguard deal.”
She twisted in her seat and checked out the back window then turned the key in the ignition before she answered him. “I’m not paid to believe anything, pal. I’m a professional. It’s my job to keep you alive.”
Backing out of the space, she never looked at him, but her voice was strong. “You need a bodyguard and I’m the best. It doesn’t matter what I think.”
He laid a hand on her forearm. “It matters to me. Will you at least give me a chance to prove it to you?”
She stopped the car and stared down to where his hand touched her arm. “I’m just your bodyguard. I’ll be right beside you until the trial. If you find any new information, I’ll be there to see it.” She glanced up and for a split second there was an odd expression on her face, then she tugged her arm out from under his hand.
In that instant he’d seen a different kind of emotion in her eyes. He’d begun to think of her as simply tough and beautiful. But buried deep in that gaze was something more.
Her expression reminded him of buried yearnings and crazy childish desires. It was totally out of context with the controlled and strong person he was beginning to know.
He’d seen a scared little girl buried deep in those eyes. A girl looking for someone who would love and care about her. It made him want to protect her. Made him want to insist she stop the car so he could change places and drive her around. Made him have a crazy vision of moving in front of her while bad guys pointed guns in her direction.
“So…” she began. “Let’s get on with it.”
The sexy, “tough guy” was back. And just that fast, Marc’s protective impulses turned to something more primitive. Visions of her in bed, tangled up in his arms, appeared in his head.
“Yeah, okay. We’ll talk about it.” If he could manage to get past the pictures in his head—and also past some strong impulses a lot lower on his body, too.
“If I head south on this surface street, can we get to your place by the back roads?” she asked.
He nodded, but couldn’t find his voice. Whoo boy. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything at all. Now suddenly he had tender images and sexual fantasies about a woman he’d just met?
These emotions must be originating from the events surrounding his arrest. Adrenaline, from fighting for his freedom, must be their root cause. He was just over stimulated, that’s all.
Well, he had to put a lid on all of these powerful sensations. His life depended on being clear and focused.
And now that he thought about it a little more, Dana might be erotic as hell and have a body built for making love, but what did he really know about her? Something just didn’t sit right. And he decided to find out what it was.
“This is your place?” Dana was thoroughly amazed.
She couldn’t remember the last time anything had been a real surprise—well, if she didn’t count her strange thoughts about kissing Marcus earlier.
Kissing? Was that what she’d wanted to do with him? In reality, she’d had no idea of where her lusting might lead. Having only just read and heard about most of that sexual stuff, she’d never experienced very much of it first hand. So the image of kissing a man she’d just met was odd.
“Yes. This is home. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to see it again,” he told her, while trying to conceal a sigh.
She shook off the images of putting her lips to his and looked through the windshield at the one-story ranch house, surrounded by grass and sitting in the middle of several acres of fenced land. It was much smaller than the house she’d imagined he would live in. And it was certainly smaller than the Danforth family’s mansion, Crofthaven.
As she drove down the paved driveway, past fences and a few grazing animals, she tried to judge the house’s size. With clean lines and stucco exterior, it seemed very suburban for a rich-man’s son. It was probably a three or four bedroom home and it looked fairly new.
Really, she had no business thinking of a three-bedroom house as small. Although not a mansion; compared to the rat-infested twelve-by-twelve room in Atlanta where she’d grown up, this place would qualify as a castle.
“What do you do with all this space?” She’d checked out the sea of grass that was the front yard, enclosed by both chain-link fence and pretty white-wood fence posts, and now saw a building in the distance that might be a garage or a barn in back of the main house.
He chuckled at her question. “It’s not much, I know. But it’s a farm. My farm.”
“You mean you grow stuff here? Like fruit and vegetables that come out of the ground? Really?”
She pulled up in front of the house and stopped. Turning to see why he hadn’t answered her yet, Dana was shocked by the wide grin on his face. It made him look so appealing that she nearly threw herself into his arms.
He chuckled, and she straightened her spine.
“I’ve got a couple of peach trees,” he said cheerfully. “So I guess that qualifies as fruit. Last summer I grew tomatoes and zucchini and tried growing one stalk of corn. Maybe you could count those as vegetables.”
Again he chuckled, but this time it seemed more like he was laughing at himself. “Mostly I raise a few sheep and some chickens. It’s not a very big operation but I’m happy here.”