“A bounty hunter with a limp?”
“No, smart ass. Well, only when I overdo it.” Damn it, what had she expected him to do? Sit around and twiddle his thumbs? Not likely. He'd have gone nuts in less than a month.
“Right. So you caught this Bruno character and turned him over to the police.”
That was simplifying it a bit, but Joe didn't say so. Luna couldn't understand about the hassles of tracking someone who didn't want to be caught, and who had the resources to stay hidden. Especially a petty, ruthless bastard like Bruno. “That's about it.”
“You two have quite a history, it seems.”
“You could say that. I arrested him and got shot in the bargain. He jumped bail and went missing for a while, until I caught up to him again. He was locked up until he hijacked a truck during a work detail, and now he's hiding again. Or rather, he was hiding until he decided I was a problem he had to get rid of.”
“My God. You think he wants to actually
kill
you?”
Joe shrugged as if it didn't really matter. Truth was, he didn't intend to get caught off guard again. From now on, he'd be ready for Bruno. And when he caught him again, the son of a bitch would pay. “He doesn't have much choice if he wants to stay free. He knows I'll get him. Eventually.”
Luna slumped up against the dresser and her voice went weak. “If he doesn't get you first.”
Joe used her obvious concern to his advantage. “Exactly. If I'm staying with you for a while, in North Carolina no less, I'll be out of reach.”
At least until I'm fit enough to retaliate in kind.
“Bruno would never think to look for me there. It'll also throw the more persistent ladies off the track. They won't be able to find me, and they'll give up, too.”
Luna began pacing again. “Just until you come back.” As she paced, she picked up his jeans, his T-shirt, his socks.
Acrimony filled her tone, and that pleased Joe. Could she be jealous? He hoped so. “Yeah, well, I was thinking of relocating to Kentucky anyway, to be closer to the cousins.”
And to you.
“You know, I do believe Zane misses me between visits.”
That gigantic falsehood had her pinching her mouth together to keep from snorting, or spilling the truth as she knew it. Zane liked Joe more now than he had a year ago, but he would forever be leery of him. In their younger days they'd competed for women, and too often, Joe had won.
Now that Zane was in love, he refused to see beyond that. He knew Joe didn't poach, and he trusted his sweet little wife, Tamara, but it still made him uncomfortable to let Joe too near her.
Twitting Zane was about as close to honest fun as Joe had these days.
“Joe.” Luna dumped the clothes into a pile on the foot of the bed. “You're trying to make this sound like I'd be doing you the favor, instead of the other way around.”
“You will be doing me a favor.”
You'll be giving me the opportunity to wear you down.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “That's absurd and you know it. No, don't argue with me. I have to be honest with myself here, too. I'm in over my head and I need your help. That means I have to pay you, just like anyone else would.”
Joe scowled. “You want honesty, honey? Then I'll give you honesty.”
Because he wanted to be more upright for this confrontation, Joe shifted a little higher in the bed. It hurt to moveâhell, it hurt to breatheâbut it would hurt more to lose this opportunity. He wasn't used to being celibate, and it sucked. He hated it. But damn it, he wanted Luna, not some other woman. She'd crawled under his skin three months ago, and having her there was like an interminable itch. It was driving him nuts.
Once he was settled and could quit gritting his teeth, he gave Luna a dead-on look. “There's something you should know.”
Luna moved toward him with concern. “Joe, are you all right?” She had a hand stretched out to him.
“I still want you.”
She halted in midstep.
“I'm not going to stop wanting you until I have you.”
She took a step back.
Just saying it turned Joe on. Her exotic eyes were wide, darkened with surprise; her lips parted. Joe's voice dropped to a low rumble. “About a dozen times in a dozen different ways, Luna. And even that might not be enough.”
Her mouth closed.
Joe shrugged, though he felt far from cavalier. “I figured you should know.”
The seconds ticked by; then in a chilling whisper, she said, “You're making it a stipulation? I have to sleep with you if I want your help?”
Now that pissed him off. “No. Hell no. I don't need to force women into my bed.”
“Oh.” His tone had her blinking before she settled into another frown. “Then what exactly did you mean?”
“I meant that I'm not going to stop trying. We'll be playing house, babe, under the same roof, in close proximity. Believe me, I'm going to use that to my advantage.”
Slowly, her smile appeared. “And you think I won't be able to resist you? Oh, that's too funny, Joe. You've got so much ego it's falling out your ears.”
Joe smiled, too. He did love a challenge. “So long as you don't object to me giving it my best shot.”
“Thank you for the warning. I'll be on my toes.” Still amused, she shook her head, picked up his dirty clothes, and sashayed out of the room. In the doorway, she stopped and looked at him over his shoulder. “I'm going to rustle you up something to eat. You look thinner to me. Then we'll make plans on when to leave.”
“Thanks. I'm starved.”
“No, Joe, thank you.” Her smile now was genuine, softened with her relief. “I really do appreciate your willingness to help.”
She appreciated him. Perfect, Joe thought. Things were working out just as he hoped.
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Luna held her serene smile until she got out of sight. Then she groaned and swallowed hard. Beneath her breast, her heart thumped in heavy, exaggerated beats.
Since meeting Joe Winston, her life had gone through some drastic upheavals. She didn't like it. She didn't like him.
Liar.
Part of the problem was that her basic nature rebelled against needing anyone. She lived her life to her exact specifications; she was independent, capable, mature and self-sufficient.
Yet, she now needed Joe.
As a feminist, she couldn't abide men like Joe Winston. They saw women as weaker beings meant to be protected, sometimes cherished. But never as equals.
Her body didn't care.
In her present situation, he was perfect for her, and so dangerous that she trembled whenever she thought of him. For three months now she'd wavered, wanting to call him, wanting to be with him. She went to sleep with him on her mind and woke with the need to touch him.
She'd always enjoyed her sexual freedom, but now other men held no interest, seeming small, pale, even insubstantial in comparison to Joe's cocky confidence and larger-than-life capability. Nothing threw him.
Well, the mention of kids had strangled him for a moment there. It had almost been funny, watching Joe's reaction. But the painful truth was that Joe knew more about kids than she ever would. His four cousins had them in various ages, and Joe seemed at ease with them all. He held babies, conversed with toddlers, related to a teen. He was comfortable in all situations, but then, he'd come from a good family, and so he understood the dynamics and workings of a family unit.
She didn't.
Joe appealed to her in ways she'd never experienced before. If it had just been sexual, there wouldn't be a problem. She'd have indulged an affair and walked away.
But Joe was also loyal, funny, ruthless in defense of his family, and . . . He made her feel more feminine, like the stereotypical little woman, weaker against his obvious strength, pampered in the face of his masculine appreciation.
Damn the man for his diabolical tactics.
Resisting him had proved a personal struggle, but she'd held firm, reminding herself again and again that Joe wasn't a man to play with. He wasn't just a lick of fire, where she could get singed. He was an inferno, ready to consume her if she gave him the chance. Nothing with Joe would ever be half measure. Not the physical pleasure he'd give, and not the way he made her feel.
Now, as he'd just informed her, he had his chance. Luna groaned again. She'd just have to keep her mind busy on other thingsâand two kids ought to take care of that.
More laundry awaited her in his small kitchen where a stacked washer/dryer combo was neatly stashed in a pantry. Joe was tidy for a man, his clothes in a basket, his kitchen clean except for some dirty dishes in the sink and some papers on the table. Luna drew a shaky breath and got to work.
He was willing to help her, but she had to help him first. She had a load of laundry going and the makings for grilled cheese sandwiches out on the counter when his phone rang.
No doubt, a woman wanted his attention. Luna meandered into his bedroom, nosiness and a tad of jealousy making her dislike herself. But Joe hadn't answered the bedside phone. His eyes were closed, his expression weary, pained.
He'd been so badly hurt . . .
With false sweetness, she asked, “You want me to get that?”
Before he could reply, the answering machine picked up. Sure enough, a feminine voice purred, “Joe? Where are you? You haven't answered the phone in days. Call me, okay?”
Joe never opened his eyes.
Teeth gritted, Luna said, “Another admirer, huh?”
Rather than answer that, he sniffed the air. “I thought you were going to fix something to eat?”
“How about grilled cheese? You don't have much in the way of groceries.”
“I usually eat out.” Then, with appreciation and a touch of weariness: “That sounds great. I didn't know you cooked.”
Was that sheet even lower? The material barely maintained his privacy, and what the soft cotton did cover, it didn't really conceal. There were some clear bulges and ridges. Luna eyed his body and felt her insides turn liquid. Even with the dark ugly bruises, he was so damn gorgeous. His shoulders were sleek and taut and thick, his chest covered in that fine, crisp hair so that his small brown nipples were almost hidden. Muscles layered his rib cage, and even at ease in the bed, his abdomen was sharply defined. That teasing trail of dark hair bisecting his body and dipping beneath the sheet was finer, silkier, than that on his chest.
Luna cleared her throat. “Grilled cheese is hardly brain surgery. But for the record, I cook. Nothing fancy, but I can read recipes.” She patted her fanny with both hands. “As you can see, I'm not starving.”
One eye opened, bright with interest. “You're a woman, not a little girl. You've got dangerous curves, babe, and they make me nuts.”
He sounded so sincere, her pique evaporated. But how could she reply to
that?
She chose to change the subject instead. “You want to eat in bed or can you make it to the table?”
Finally opening both eyes, Joe grimaced and took a critical accounting of his body. “I have to get out of bed. I'm as stiff as a spinster's upper lip.” He struggled into a sitting position with his legs over the side of the bed. Luna gazed down the long line of his back to his tight behindâuntil he groaned.
Her concern doubled. She'd always thought of Joe as invincible, probably because that's how he thought of himself. He gleefully dove into danger without a single thought to personal risk, secure in his belief that he could handle anything and anyone. He played at careers that scared other men to death.
Even the bruises hadn't detracted from his air of impenetrable strength. But he was just a man, and right now, he was hurt. “Maybe you should stay in bed. I'll bring the food hereâ”
“I want to take a shower,” he rumbled in a low tone, while holding his side. “The hot water is bound to ease my sore muscles.” He stood . . . and left the sheet on the bed.
Luna gawked. She couldn't help it.
Glancing at her as if he wasn't buck naked, as if his body wasn't a rock-hard sculpture of masculine perfection, Joe asked, “Can I have ten minutes, do you think?”
Luna swallowed. And stared. And stared some more.
“Luna?”
He wasn't quite standing straight, was more bent to favor one side of his ribs, off kilter thanks to his injured knee. He had a three-day beard shadow, unkempt hair, and eyes so blue they torched her even from across the room.
He smirked and awkwardly lifted the sheet, holding it in front of his lap. “Better?”