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Dismissing him with a toss of her head, she turned and walked out. And never knew that she left him standing there staring after her like a man who had just been hit by a two-by-four.
Tiny’s Pool Hall was the only place in town that came close to passing for a bar, and it was a poor substitute. Granted, there was a jukebox in the corner, and smoke hung like a cloud overhead, rising unrestricted to the bare rafters, but the only alcoholic beverage sold was beer, and that was limited to three per customer. The locals knew the rules and had long since accepted the fact that Tiny was never going to let anyone leave his place drunk, but the Hollywood crowd was something else. Packed shoulder to shoulder in the humble establishment and looking for action, they grumbled and whined about everything from the size of the minuscule dance floor, where couples were packed together like sardines, to the fact that the beer wasn’t imported. But no one left. Because unless someone wanted to check out Ed’s Diner down the street and get something to eat, Tiny’s was the only hot spot in town open after eight o’clock.
Seated alone at a rough-hewn table far in the back, Joe nursed a beer and never noticed the interested looks he was getting from some of the female cast members of Beloved Stranger. Instead, his gaze was focused inward, on the film’s star and the cocky, knowing little smile she’d given him right before she’d lifted that pert nose of hers into the air and sailed out of his workshop like a princess decked out in a tiara.
So she thought he wouldn’t stand a chance if she decided she wanted him, did she? he fumed. That he had no choice in the matter? Like bloody hell! He’d gone after her to tell her he had no intention of dropping at her feet like the rest of the men in the country, but by the time he’d reached the house, she’d already gone upstairs. Just the idea of confronting her in her bedroom had been enough to send him packing. He’d only taken time to relight the pilot light on the hot water heater, then he’d gotten the hell out of there.
He hadn’t been able to go back to the barn, not without envisioning Ms. Tinseltown there, so muttering curses, he’d headed into town to Tiny’s for a beer and a game or two of pool. That should have been enough to push the lady from his mind, but half the population of L.A. seemed to be crammed into the pool hall, and everywhere he looked were reminders of Angel. The blonde on the dance floor wore her hair like Angel’s; the brunette at the bar had her smile. It was enough to drive a man to drink.
He had to admit he’d thought about it—having his three-beer limit at Tiny’s, then stopping at the Quick Stop on the edge of town and picking up a six-pack to take home. Maybe then he’d be able to forget at least for a little while that he not only shared his home with Hollywood’s newest sweetheart, but that he slept right across the hall from her night after night after night. And he didn’t like it, dammit! He didn’t care how much she stayed out of his hair, he didn’t want her there.
He just wanted to be left alone in his own home. To be able to fall into bed at the end of a long, hard day and actually fall asleep instead of lying there half the night, staring at the ceiling and fighting the seductive allure of that damn scent of hers. And when he finally did sleep, to be able to control the hot, erotic dreams he had of the woman. Was that too damn much to ask?
Images from last night’s dream swirled before his mind’s eye, teasing him, tempting him, driving him crazy. Grinding a curse between his clenched teeth, he started to signal Tiny for another beer. But he hadn’t gotten drunk over a woman since Belinda had walked out on him, and he wasn’t about to start now. Throwing down a generous tip on the table, he pushed to his feet and walked out, the hard don’t-mess-with-me glint in his eyes just daring anyone to get in his way. No one did.
When he got back to the ranch and saw that the light in Angel’s bedroom was still on, he didn’t even turn into his driveway, but continued on past it and drove straight to his brother’s. It wasn’t until he braked to a stop in Zeke’s driveway and saw that the house was shrouded in darkness that he glanced at his watch and realized it was nearly twelve. Damn! He should have known Zeke and Elizabeth would be asleep. With a two-year-old in the house, their day started early.
Which left him with nowhere to go but home. And it was a sorry state of affairs when a man didn’t want to go home.
Scowling at the thought, he just sat there with the motor running and never noticed a light flare on in the living room or Zeke step out onto the porch. Dressed in nothing but jeans, he called out teasingly, “Are you going to sit there all night or come inside?”
He swore softly. “I just wanted to talk, but I didn’t realize it was so late. Go on back to bed before Elizabeth wakes up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
If it had been anyone but his brother sitting in his driveway wanting to visit, Zeke would have sent them packing. But Joe didn’t make a habit of showing up on his doorstep at that hour of the night without a damn good reason. Something was obviously troubling him.
“You’re here,” he retorted. “We might as well talk now. Come on up on the porch while I get us a beer.”
Not giving him a chance to argue, he turned and went back into the house for the beers. When he came back outside, it was to find Joe prowling the length of the porch and back. Arching a brow in surprise, Zeke handed him his beer. It wasn’t like Joe to be restless. The only time Zeke had ever seen him let his emotions get the best of him was when it came to family…or a woman. And since there were no family emergencies that he knew about, it had to be a woman eating at him.
It was about damn time.
Grinning, he sank down into his favorite porch rocker and watched with amusement as Joe set his beer down on the porch railing without even tasting it. “Sorry I couldn’t help you with moving the cattle today, but I couldn’t put off picking up that maimed mamma wolf and her pups north of Denver. The locals were in an uproar and pressuring the sheriff to put them all down, even the pups.”
“Idiots,” Joe growled in disgust. “You get them settled okay?”
Zeke nodded. He and Elizabeth had opened a wildlife refuge for injured animals on the ranch after they were married, and now they got rescue calls from all over the West. “Merry had to amputate the mother’s shattered front leg,” he said regretfully, remembering how she’d agonized over the decision but done the only humane thing she could. “So she’ll spend the rest of her life with us, but Elizabeth’s hoping the pups’ll be able to be released back into the wild eventually.”
“If anyone can pull that off, Elizabeth can.”
Zeke had to agree. A wolf biologist, his Lizzie had pulled off a miracle or two in the past, and she’d do it again. Taking a swig of his beer, he stretched out his legs and asked casually, “Everything going okay around here?”
Joe shrugged. “Well enough. You’ve always got some jackass spooking the cattle, but other than that, I guess things are going as well as can be expected.”
“And your houseguest?” he prodded, his blue eyes twinkling with devilment. “How’s she working out?”
In the time it took to blink, Joe stiffened like a poker and it was all Zeke could do not to laugh. “She’s not a guest, she’s a renter, and she does whatever she damn well pleases,” he snapped. “And don’t get that look in your eye. I know what you’re thinking and you’re barking up the wrong tree. I haven’t looked twice at the woman.”
“Oh, really? So she has nothing to do with this foul mood you’re in?”
“Of course not!”
“You just showed up here at midnight to shoot the breeze? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Pretty much,” he retorted, stung. “And to let you know that Cassie’s bed will be ready the day after tomorrow. I thought Lizzie would want to know.”
That information could have been passed along in a phone call at a more reasonable hour and they both knew it. “Nice try,” Zeke drawled, making no attempt to hold back a grin. “But I’m not buying it, big brother. I know you better than that. And from where I’m sitting, I’d say Miss Angel Wiley has you rattled, and I think it’s great. It’s about time someone shook you up.”
“I’m not shook up, dammit!”
“No? Then why are you acting like an old bear with a sore paw? Something’s needling you, and if it’s not a problem with the ranch, then it’s got to be a woman. Namely the one you’re living with—”
“I’m not living with her! She’s renting a couple of rooms, for God’s sake.”
“Same thing,” Zeke said, dismissing that argument with a wave of his hand. “Bottom line is half the men in the country would kill to be in your shoes. I haven’t met her face-to-face, but I’ve seen her movies, and she’s an incredibly attractive woman. So have you kissed her yet?”
His teeth clenching on an oath, Joe gave serious consideration to killing him. But Elizabeth loved him, though God knew why, and Cassie was entitled to grow up with a father…even if he was as irritating as hell. “I’m not even going to bother to answer that,” he growled. “There’s no reasoning with you tonight. I’m going home.”
Storming past him out to his pickup, he never saw Zeke’s grin of delight. He knew he was letting him push his buttons, but he couldn’t stop himself when his brother called after him, “Tell Angel hi!” Shooting him a rude hand gesture, he drove away in a cloud of dust, cursing all the way.
In the deep silence of the night, a door slowly eased open downstairs, and Angel came awake with a start. Disoriented, she frowned at her shadowy surroundings, trying to get her bearings, when she heard it again. The quiet tread of a footfall somewhere downstairs. Her heart slamming against her ribs, she froze and tried to convince herself it was just Joe.
But in the six days she’d lived in his home, she’d come to recognize the sound of his step, and even in the dead of night, he never moved quite so stealthily. And when she soundlessly slipped from her bed to look out her bedroom window, Joe’s truck wasn’t parked in its customary spot in the front driveway. He’d left soon after they’d spoken in the barn, and he obviously hadn’t returned.
The fear hit her then, low and hard and all the more terrifying because over the last week she had foolishly begun to think she’d found a safe place to bring Emma. Idiot! She should have known better. Every time she’d changed her phone number, hadn’t her stalker discovered the new one within a matter of days? And in spite of a state-of-the-art security system, hadn’t he managed to find a way into her house twice to leave gifts for her? The police had warned her he was exceptionally clever—
A nearly soundless step on the stairs had her thoughts grinding to a halt and her heart jumping into her throat. He was coming for her, just as he’d promised. Dear God, she had to do something!
Panic clawed at her. Every instinct she had urged her to run for her life, but she could hear him on the stairs, climbing steadily, and soon he would be at the top. Her eyes wide, she looked wildly around in the darkness of her room for some kind of weapon, but the room was simply furnished. Then she spied the vase sitting on the dresser. Grabbing it, her heart thundering in her ears, she tiptoed out into the hall to lie in wait for the man who had made the last two months of her life a living nightmare.
From where I’m sitting, I’d say Miss Angel Wiley has you shook up.
Zeke’s words still ringing in his ears, taunting him, Joe swore under his breath and carefully made his way up the stairs in the darkness. Nobody had him shook up, especially Miss Hollywood. If he was restless and on edge, it was just because he didn’t like being forced to share his house with a woman. Any woman. Angel could have been eighty-six and as pious as a nun, and he would have still felt the same way.
Lost in his furious thoughts, he was halfway up the stairs when he suddenly noticed a slight movement in the shadows at the top landing. His step never faltered, but every muscle in his body tensed. He never locked his doors, had never felt the need. The house couldn’t even be seen from the highway, and crime was rare in Liberty Hill. But then again, so were strangers…at least they had been until Hollywood came to town.
Too late, he remembered Angel sleeping upstairs, unaware that someone had broken in. Was she safe? Fury flashed in his eyes at the thought that someone might have harmed her. She might drive him nuts, but by God, no one was going to hurt her while he was around. Braced for a fight, he reached the top of the stairs.
He had no time to think after that, only react. The intruder moved in the shadows off to his left, and suddenly something came flying at him in the dark. Cursing, he dodged it just before it could connect with his head and heard it crash against the wall behind him. Furious, he hit the hall light switch almost at the same instant he launched himself at his attacker. It wasn’t until his arms closed around a struggling, squirming woman that he realized it was Angel.
“What the devil!”
“Joe!”
“You were expecting Jack the Ripper?” he snapped, furious now that he knew she was safe. “Of course it’s me! Dammit, what were you doing hiding in the dark like that? I could have hurt you!”
“Me? You were the one sneaking around like a thief! When I heard someone moving around downstairs and I saw your truck wasn’t here, I thought someone had broken in. Why didn’t you turn on a light, for God’s sake?”
“Because I don’t need a light to see where I’m going in my own home! And I didn’t park out front because my truck is low on gas, so I left it by the gas tank so I could fill it up in the morning.”
Still holding her close, Joe glared at her and only just then noticed that she was wearing nothing but a pale blue nightgown. Made of cotton and designed more for comfort than seduction, it was hardly the type of nightwear you’d expect Hollywood’s latest sweetheart to wear to bed, but there was something about its very simplicity that would have tempted a saint. And God knew, he was no saint.
Stunned, he knew right then he should have released her and gotten the hell away from her. But with a will of their own, his fingers tightened on her arms, drawing her closer, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. He watched her eyes flare with awareness, and suddenly the air between them was thick with a tension that had nothing to do with anger. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and just like every other man in America who’d sat in a darkened theater and watched her on the big screen, he found himself wondering what she tasted like. Right or wrong, he had to find out.
In the bright glare of the hall light, she read the intention in his eyes and stiffened like a board. “No.”
“Yes,” he growled, and covered her mouth with his.
The second his lips touched hers, he knew it was a mistake. The sweetest things always were. Like an addiction that called to a man’s very soul, her soft, generous mouth trembled under his, innocently teasing, tempting, until the need to taste became a need for more. His head clouded, and with a low groan, he gathered her closer and took the kiss deeper.
Her senses reeling, Angel clung to him and tried to tell herself this couldn’t be happening. Not with Joe McBride. He didn’t like her, had made it clear from the moment he’d laid eyes on her that he didn’t want anything to do with her. And the feeling was mutual. She wasn’t any crazier about him. He was cold and distant and whenever the opportunity presented itself, he went out of his way to make her feel unwelcome. If anyone had told her he was a sensuous man who could turn her knees to butter with just one kiss, she would have called them a liar. She would have been wrong.
And it was that, more than anything, that abruptly brought her to her senses. The last time she’d let herself be taken in by a man’s kisses, she’d been wrong about him, too. She’d been young and naive and so damn trusting that just thinking about it made her wince. She’d actually thought she’d found her prince. Instead, she’d been taken in by a toad. She’d promised herself then that she’d never make that kind of mistake again, and that wasn’t a promise she intended to break.
Furious with herself for letting him tempt her even for a second, she abruptly broke free of his arms and quickly sidestepped him when he instinctively reached for her again. Her blue eyes sparking fire, she snapped, “I don’t know what you think is going on here, cowboy, but somebody read the script wrong, and it’s not me. Back off!”
The taste of her still on his tongue, infuriating him, Joe rasped, “You’re the one who came at me in the dark dressed in nothing but a skimpy gown. I only took you up on your invitation, sweetheart.”
She gasped, outraged. “I already told you I thought you were an intruder! What was I supposed to do? Stop to change while someone was sneaking up the stairs to rape me? I don’t think so!”
She was right, of course. He was being completely unreasonable, and that only angered him more. He’d taken advantage of the situation, of a guest in his home, and he’d never done that in his life. But, dammit, he wasn’t made of stone! What man wouldn’t lose his head when he found Angel Wiley in his arms and dressed for bed?
“Next time, throw on a robe before you leave your room,” he retorted coldly.
“I should have known you’d find a way to make this my fault,” she tossed back. “That’s just like a man. Always blame the woman. Well, for your information, Mr. McBride, this never would have happened if you hadn’t sneaked into the house like a thief in the night!”
“So now it’s my fault for being considerate? I didn’t want to wake you, dammit!”
“Well, you did!”
“Well, excuse me for breathing. Next time, I’ll come stomping in so you’ll be sure to know it’s me. Will that make you happy?”
“As a clam.”
“Fine!”
Seething, they glared at each other like two eight-year-olds facing off in the playground across a line drawn in the dirt. It was a fight neither of them could win. Frustrated, Joe swore and turned to storm into his bedroom. A split second after he slammed his door, he heard the echo of Angel’s across the hall.
Tearing off his clothes, he let them lay where they fell and crawled into bed, determined to forget the entire incident and go right to sleep. But long after the dust settled in the hall and the silence of the night crept back into the house, sleep eluded him. Because every time he closed his eyes, he could see the awareness in Angel’s eyes right before he kissed her, taste the sweetness of her on his tongue, feel the soft, enticing curve of her breasts pressed against his chest as he’d wrapped her close in his arms. Furious with her, he tried to convince himself it had been too long since he’d had a woman, that he would have reacted the same to any female who appeared before him in her nightgown, but his body wasn’t buying it. There was only one woman he ached for tonight, dammit, and like it or not, that was Angel Wiley.
Chapter 3
After kissing Joe McBride, locking lips with Garrett Elliot was like kissing a snake. Angel hated it—and despised him—but there was no getting around it. Garrett played her love interest in the movie, and when the script called for a kissing scene, she had no choice but to step into his arms.
She liked to think she was a professional and a damn good actress. She didn’t so much as cringe when Garrett made one little mistake after another and the director called for the scene to be reshot time and time again. Instead, she prided herself on never breaking out of character. Her face alight with the love her character felt for the man she adored, she lifted her mouth to Garrett’s and melted into his arms. No one but she and Garrett knew that her skin crawled every time he touched her.
It had always been that way between them, from the day they’d met on the set for the first time last year during the making of Wild Texas Love. One of the most sought after leading men in Hollywood, he’d had a reputation for sweeping his leading ladies off to his bed…until he’d worked with her. She’d turned him down flat, and he’d never forgiven her for that.
If she hadn’t been so desperate to get out of L.A. for a while, she never would have agreed to work with him again. He’d made her pay in the past by spreading outrageous lies about her and earning her an unfair reputation, and now he was making her pay again by deliberately blowing one take after another so she would be forced to kiss him again and again until he thought she had suffered enough.
She could have told him that that point had long since come and gone, but she’d be damned if she’d give the worm the satisfaction. So she hid her distaste deep inside, where no one could see, and told herself the man she was kissing wasn’t Garrett, but his character, Sebastian. When she closed her eyes, she almost believed it.
She might not have completely convinced herself, but the director, obviously bought it. “Cut!” Charles yelled. “That’s a take.”
Relieved, Angel jerked out of Garrett’s arms and whirled away, her only thought to get back to her dressing room where she could wash away his touch. She’d barely taken three steps when she found herself face-to-face with Joe.
After the heated words they’d exchanged last night and a kiss that she hadn’t been able to put out of her mind, she’d left the house that morning still feeling like the injured party. She’d promised herself that it would be a cold day in hell before she spoke to him again, but she’d forgotten she would have to spend the morning kissing the devil.
“I didn’t know you were on the set,” she said stiffly. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough. I’ve been waiting to talk to Charles.”
Behind her, Garrett said something crude to one of the crew and didn’t care who heard. Her face expressionless, she thought she hid her distaste well, but Joe shot a sharp glance at the other man, then brought his gaze back to her and studied her through narrowed eyes that saw far too much. “Are you all right?”
She started to say no, that kissing Garrett always made her feel slimy, only to remember what Myrtle had told her about the McBrides. An old-fashioned family raised on values that had unfortunately gone out of style in today’s world, they were protective of friends and family and anyone in need of help. As much as Joe might dislike the idea of her living in his house, she couldn’t imagine him standing idly by and doing nothing if he suspected Garrett had taken advantage of her or any other woman. He’d confront him. And while she had to admit that she would like nothing more than to see Garrett have to answer to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to knock him on his ass, he was her problem to deal with and she’d handle it—without ending up on the cover of the tabloids again.
Drawing on all her skills as an actress, she laughed gaily. “Are you kidding? I just spent most of the morning kissing the number one heartthrob in America. Why wouldn’t I be all right?”
She would have sworn her smile was carefree and deserving of an Academy Award, her tone right on target, but Joe was shrewder than she’d given him credit for. For what seemed like an eternity, he just stared at her with those razor-sharp brown eyes of his, probing to her very soul. Returning his gaze unblinkingly, she didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash, but whatever he saw in her eyes did nothing to soften the rigid set of his square jaw.
“If he does anything that makes you feel uncomfortable,” he growled, “I want to hear about it. Understood?”
She understood all right—if he and Garrett locked horns, she would be the one who would be blamed! And that left her with no choice but to make excuses for her costar. “Garrett’s a jerk, but he’s not usually as obnoxious as he was this morning. I guess he was paying me back for getting him moved to Myrtle’s. He’ll be fine once he cools down.”
“I don’t care if you had him moved to Mars, that’s no excuse for that kind of behavior. If he doesn’t want a lesson in manners, he’d better toss the attitude and clean up his act.” Shooting Garrett one last warning glare, he strode off to meet with the director.
Staring after him, Angel sighed in relief. Not because a potential fight between the two men had been averted, but because Joe McBride was turning out to be everything she’d thought he would be. If he was willing to take Garrett to task for his juvenile behavior, she could just imagine what he would do to a man who threatened not only her, but her daughter.
“Mommy!” With a shriek of delight, Emma was out of the studio limo and racing up Joe’s front walk toward Angel as fast as her dimpled little legs would carry her.
Tears welling in her eyes, Angel met her halfway and scooped her up into a bear hug, clutching her close. Mine, she thought with a sob. Every time she touched her golden curls, looked into dancing blue eyes that were the image of her own, it still amazed her that God had blessed her with this precious three-year-old bundle of energy and unconditional love.
Lord, she’d missed her! She’d wanted to send for her days ago, right after she’d moved into Joe’s, but she’d had to force herself to be patient, to make sure she was doing the right thing and could really trust Joe McBride before she brought her daughter into his home. Yesterday morning on the set, when he’d told her he wanted to know if Garrett stepped over the line, he’d convinced her that he wasn’t a man who would tolerate anyone abusing the females under his care. She didn’t care what he thought of her—her daughter would be safe with him and that was all that mattered.
From the second she’d found out she was pregnant with her, nothing had ever mattered but her baby. She couldn’t, unfortunately, say the same thing about Kurt Austin, Emma’s father. The director of her first movie, older and much more experienced than she, he’d made it clear right from the beginning that all he wanted from her was a nice, quiet little affair while they were making the movie. But she was in love for the first time in her life and sure that what they had would last a lifetime. She’d been wrong. It ended the day she told him she was pregnant and he coolly suggested she get an abortion.
Alone and pregnant and twenty-one, she’d wanted to go home to New Mexico then, to her father and the security of the home where she’d grown up, to have her baby. But her father was a hard, conservative religious man who’d never understood her love for acting. He’d disowned her when she ran away to Hollywood, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn to him for help when she was in trouble. So she’d retreated to a small town in California where no one knew her and had Emma away from the glitter and glamour and gossip of L.A.
She was hers, no one else’s, and somehow, she’d been able to keep her daughter’s existence a well-guarded secret from most of the world. She knew that couldn’t last—the more famous she became, the more diligently the press dug into her past—but for now, it wasn’t the press she was worried about. It was a single man, a psychopath who stalked her, a crazed fan who thought he was in love with her and threatened to stop at nothing to be with her. He’d already broken into her home, already left notes warning her that when she finally committed herself to him, there would be no place in their life for another man’s child. If Angel couldn’t get rid of her, he could.
It was because of him that she’d agreed to work with Garrett again in spite of the fact that she despised him. It was because of him, this man who seemed to know her every move regardless of the security measures she took to protect herself and her daughter, that she’d jumped at the chance to get out of L.A. He was the reason she’d pulled whatever strings she had to so she and Emma could stay with Joe.
She should have explained the situation to Joe, should have warned him that there was a very good chance that her stalker would follow her to Colorado and cause trouble when he discovered her whereabouts. But Joe had been so set against her, so determined that she wasn’t spending so much as a single night under his roof, that she’d been afraid to chance telling him that two other females would be invading his space once she was sure it would be safe for them to do so. Because that wasn’t part of his contract with the studio. The agreement was that he would rent a bedroom and office to one actor; there’d been no mention of a three-year-old and her nanny tagging along.
He would, no doubt, be livid, she thought as she nuzzled Emma’s neck and made her giggle. But if he was the man she thought he was, he would never direct his anger at an innocent child. If she was wrong, the three of them would be out on the street by nightfall.
“That’s my girl,” she said huskily, tightening her arms around her. “Did you have a good trip? Did Laura pack your teddy and blanky?”
“And Miss Annabelle and my bunny angel, too!” Dimples flashing and her eyes dancing, she pulled back. “They rode all the way with me.” And taking off like a shot, she raced back to the limo to collect her favorite toys.
