A bull of a man, Mike Lassiter wore his expensive western-cut suits with a style and grace that belied his considerable size. But that hadn’t been what made a lasting impression on Chance. It had been the open hostility Lassiter displayed on the few occasions they’d been around each other. Chance couldn’t remember ever having talked to the man. But for some reason, each time he caught Lassiter staring at him, the man’s eyes had been filled with intense loathing.
Chance absently stroked Kristen’s silky auburn hair with his right hand. From the look of fear she’d displayed at the thought of going back to Dallas to face her father, Chance figured the rumors about Lassiter had to be right on the money. Over the years, Chance had heard plenty about Mike Lassiter and his demands of perfection; how he made it impossible for anyone to ever live up to his expectations. It was even rumored the man’s late wife had died from being so unhappy.
Chance glanced down at his own sleeping wife. How could any man intentionally create the apprehension in a woman that he’d seen in Kristen? And why?
His hand, draped over the steering wheel, tightened into a fist at the thought of anyone intimidating Kristen.
He had a feeling he was about to jump buck-naked into a hornet’s nest, but he’d be damned if he’d let Mike Lassiter run roughshod over Kristen. Even though their marriage was temporary, as her husband, Chance had an obligation to protect her. And if that meant crossing her own father to do it, then that’s exactly what he’d do.
Three
“Kristen, wake up.”
Kristen slowly straightened to look out the windshield of the pickup truck. “Where are we?” she asked, wishing her dream hadn’t been interrupted. She’d been securely wrapped in the strong arms of a tall, broad-shouldered man, his deep Texas drawl whispering over her senses when he called her sweetheart as they made love.
“Gallup, New Mexico,” Chance said, turning off the ignition. He cupped her cheek with his hand. “You fell asleep again right after we stopped for gas in Flagstaff, sweetheart.”
Chance’s touch, the sound of his voice when he called her “sweetheart,” and the realization that she’d been dreaming about making love with him helped to clear her sleep-fogged brain. She had absolutely no business fantasizing about the man, even if it was in a dream and he was her temporary husband. They weren’t going to be married any longer than it took for the ink to dry on the annulment papers.
After dreaming about being loved by the man, she realized sitting close to him wasn’t going to bring her pulse back down to a normal rate or stop the awareness she felt in every nerve ending in her body. She scooted over to the passenger side of the bench seat.
Blinking against the bright flashing neon sign in front of her, it took a moment to comprehend where Chance had parked the truck. “Why are we stopped at a pharmacy?”
He unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door handle. “I have a few things I want to pick up before we find a motel.”
“Motel?” Her mind came to full alert. She thanked the moon and stars above that her voice didn’t sound as panicked as she felt. Chance had to be the sexiest, best-looking and most charming cowboy she’d ever met. She had a feeling that’s what got her into this mess to begin with. Spending another night with him would definitely not be in her best interest.
He pushed the door open with his shoulder. “You didn’t think we’d drive straight through, did you?”
“Yes. No.” Confused, she shook her head. “I hadn’t thought much about it.”
She’d been so preoccupied with how to avoid Mike, she hadn’t even considered when, or if, they’d be stopping for the night. But with more than eight hundred miles between Las Vegas and Amarillo, it stood to reason they wouldn’t be driving straight through to Chance’s ranch.
Lost in thought, she missed what Chance asked next. “What?”
“Are you going inside or staying here?” His smile made her insides tingle.
“I’ll wait here.”
She needed time to think. If he was planning a repeat of last night, he’d better think again. They might be married, but they wouldn’t be sleeping together.
“Need anything?” Chance asked, getting out of the truck.
“No.” And if you’re buying what I think you’re buying, you might as well save your money.
“You’re sure?” he asked one last time.
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
He closed the driver’s door, then walked to the entrance, his long-legged stride relaxed and confident. Like a man who knew what he wanted and how to go about getting it. The mere thought made her warm all over. And that was wrong. All wrong.
Narrowing her eyes, she watched him disappear inside the drugstore. “You’d better not be buying anything more than a toothbrush, cowboy.”
Several minutes later, Chance strolled back across the parking lot to the truck as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When he grinned at her through the truck window, her stomach fluttered. She pressed herself against the passenger side door. No man had the right to exude that much charm and sex appeal, or make her flutter in places no man had ever made her flutter before.
When he opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, he tossed a sack onto the dash. “Ready to find a room?”
“Two rooms,” Kristen said, making sure to put all her determination into her tone. “And I’m paying for mine.”
His mouth thinned to a flat line as he started the truck, put it in reverse and backed from the parking lot. “No, you won’t.”
Kristen shook her head. “I mean it, Chance. I intend to pay—”
“Like hell you’ll pay for a room,” he said, his own voice just as determined. “We’re married. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said reasonably. “We won’t be married for long, and besides, neither one of us intended for it to happen.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Chance was every bit as stubborn as Mike, she decided, her level of frustration rising another notch. She’d never been able to get Mike to budge on anything once he’d made up his mind, either.
Chance pulled into a motel parking area a few blocks from the pharmacy. “You’re my responsibility as long as your last name is Warren.”
Without another word he got out of the truck and slammed the door with a resounding thud.
His responsibility.
Her heart sinking, Kristen watched him enter the motel lobby. How many times in her life had Mike said the same thing almost word for word?
She squeezed her eyes shut. It shouldn’t matter. Chance Warren wasn’t much more than a stranger. But for some reason his viewing her as a responsibility made her want to cry. Why couldn’t she ever be more to someone than an obligation?
When Chance returned a few minutes later and slid behind the steering wheel, Kristen couldn’t help but notice his hesitant expression. “What’s wrong?”
He started the truck and pulled around the side of the building. “These places along the interstate fill up fast.”
“Really?” She had a sinking feeling at what he was about to tell her, but she asked, anyway. “Why do you say that?”
“You’re never going to believe this,” he said, parking in front of a bank of numbered doors.
“Tell