Brenda Harlen - Some Kind of Hero

“I expected at least a few minutes of small talk, maybe the offer of a drink.”

Riane bit back another sigh, resenting that the manners so carefully ingrained since childhood demanded that she participate in such formalities. But she’d managed to convince herself that Joel Logan had gone back to wherever he’d come from, and his unexpected appearance here—in her home—disconcerted her.

“Forgive my lack of manners, Mr. Logan. It’s been a very long day and I wasn’t expecting company.” She didn’t care that her apology sounded more like an accusation. She would go through the motions, but that was all. “Would you care for a drink?”

He inclined his head slightly, watching her intently. She stood firm, unflinching beneath his steady gaze.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he said at last.

She crossed over to the sideboard, removed the crystal stopper from the Waterford decanter and poured a generous amount of scotch into two highball glasses.

She passed one to him, careful that their fingers not brush in the transfer. She was determined to avoid any and all physical contact with him. She’d let him have his drink, find out what he wanted and send him on his way.

But Joel obviously had other plans, because he set his glass down on the shelf and brushed his fingers over her bare shoulder, down her arm, linking them loosely around her wrist. She felt the jolt of awareness reverberate through her system, sending tingles from the top of her head to the tips of her toes and all the erogenous zones in between. Still, she refused to let him see how he affected her, refused to let him know that her whole system went into overload when he touched her.

She looked at his hand on hers, raised a brow. Most of the men she knew would have taken the not-so-subtle hint and terminated the unwanted contact, but Joel either didn’t understand her signal or simply refused to comply with it. She suspected it was the latter.

“How long have you been engaged?” he asked.

The abruptness of the question, as much as the hint of annoyance in his tone, startled her. “The engagement isn’t official yet,” she told him, silently wondering if it ever would be.

“No wedding date set?”

“No.” She tugged out of his grasp and stepped away. She tipped her own glass to her lips and drank deeply, the scotch burning a fiery path down her throat that didn’t compare to the heat on her arm where he’d touched her.

He picked up his glass again and sipped. “Nice scotch.”

Riane downed the last of her drink, set the glass down with a snap. “Did you come her to discuss my wedding plans, my father’s scotch, or was there something else you wanted?”

“Have I said or done something to upset you, Ms. Quinlan?”

Yes, damn it. She wanted to scream the words at him, to let her anger and frustration spill over. She’d been perfectly happy until Joel Logan had come into her life. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. But she’d been content, for the most part, because she hadn’t known what she was missing.

She still didn’t know, but every time he looked at her, every time he touched her, he made her wonder.

“You’re here,” she said simply.

“I was thinking if either one of us had a right to be annoyed,” he said casually, “it would be me.”

“Why?”

“Because a woman who’s engaged to be married shouldn’t look at another man the way you were looking at me Saturday night.”

She dropped her gaze and moved to refill her glass. “I’ll apologize for the fact that you obviously misunderstood my intentions.”

“I didn’t misunderstand anything,” Joel said coolly.

Riane lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug, raised the glass. Joel was at her side before it touched her lips, his fingers wrapped around the wrist that held her drink.

Her first thought was that he moved fast.

Her second, he was dangerous.

Her next, she wanted him.

It was irrational, it was insane, but in that instant, she knew it was true. It wasn’t the subtle tug of desire she’d felt when she’d danced with him at the ball. There was nothing subtle about this at all. It hit her with the force of a runaway freight train, uncontrollable, unstoppable, undeniable.

Joel could read the emotions reflected in her eyes.

Surprise. Awareness. Desire.

She wanted him; he wanted her. The attraction between them was simple. Unfortunately, everything else about the situation was not.

Her lips curved slightly and he tightened his grip. He prided himself on having a great deal of control but right now, he was very close to losing it. That sexy little smile almost put him over the top.

Almost.

He dropped Riane’s wrist abruptly, unaccountably angry with her for the desire her mere presence stoked inside him. Angrier with himself for not being strong enough to resist. He knew he should back away. Better yet, he should leave—this house, this state. But he stayed where he was, mesmerized by her presence.

Her lips curved again. They were glossy and red, the same tempting shade as her figure-hugging dress and those killer shoes. At the charity ball she’d looked the part of a senator’s daughter. Elegant, sophisticated, untouchable. Tonight she didn’t look like anybody’s daughter. She was all hot, steamy sex appeal in a beckoning package. And if she’d been his unofficial fiancée—not that that would ever happen—there was no way in hell he’d have said good-night at the door. But the proper Stuart Etherington III had, and his kiss hadn’t even smudged Riane’s lipstick.

“It’s late, Mr. Logan, and I’m too tired for games. So why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me why you’re here?”

It was a valid question, but he’d forgotten all the reasons he’d contrived for his visit the minute he’d seen her get out of the car. Something about getting answers, he recalled vaguely. He’d decided that the senator’s absence didn’t have to be a complete roadblock to his investigation, it only required a slight detour. And spending some time with Riane might prove to be a very pleasurable side trip.

But face-to-face with her now, he felt a little uneasy about his agenda. He didn’t want to be with Riane under false pretenses; he genuinely wanted to be with her. He wanted to know the woman behind the facade. He wanted to take his time and explore the attraction between them.

But his wants and desires were irrelevant here. His sole purpose for being in West Virginia was to finish the job he’d been hired to do. It was best to remember that, and to remember that a woman like Riane Quinlan was out of his league.

“It looks like I’m going to be in town a while,” he said, “and I thought we could spend some time together while I’m here.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know anyone else.”

Her soft, smoky laugh went straight to his loins, making him again question the wisdom of the course he’d decided to pursue.

“That’s the most unique, if not the most appealing, invitation I’ve ever received,” she told him.

“Is that a yes?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Joel nodded, as if her response was what he’d expected. “Your fiancé probably wouldn’t approve.”

“Stuart’s not my fiancé,” Riane said again. “And he doesn’t dictate how I spend my time.”

“Then there’s no reason why you can’t show me around.”

“Except that I don’t want to. I’m a busy woman, Mr. Logan.”

“I’m sure you are,” Joel agreed easily. “I just thought you might enjoy the opportunity to show an outsider the beauty and bounty of your home state.”

“There are all kinds of tours you can take if you want to see the sights. You don’t need my help for that.”

“I was hoping for a more authentic experience.”

She smiled again. “Authentic?”

There was something in the mischievous curve of her lips that set off warning bells, something in the gleam of those dark brown eyes that hinted at a secret agenda. Maybe he should back off, reconsider his plan. But he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

“I’d like to do whatever native West Virginians would do if they had a few days to play.”

She studied him for a long moment, considering. “What is it that you really want from me?”

Was she innately suspicious, or had his powers of persuasion been affected by his frustration with this assignment?

Determined to try harder, he smiled. “Just the pleasure of your company.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Riane. Intelligent, charming—when you want to be. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I want to spend time with you?”

“Most people who seek out my company are more interested in my political connections than sharing conversation,” she said candidly.

“Including your fiancé?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice, when she responded, could have frosted the windows. “My relationship with Stuart is none of your business.”

“Did I hit a nerve?”

“Not at all,” she denied in the same icy tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was. Although he was curious about her relationship with the other man, he was sorry he’d put that guarded look in her eye.

Riane shrugged stiffly.

“I’d appreciate it if you could find some time to show me the sights.”

“I’m going to be at the camp all day tomorrow.”

“What about Friday, then?”

She hesitated.

“Please.”

Sighed. “All right. Where are you staying?”

“At the Courtland Hotel, downtown.”

“I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock. Wear something comfortable, casual.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“I’m going to show you some of West Virginia’s most impressive sights,” she promised.

But Joel didn’t wait until Friday to see her again.

He awoke in the morning determined to move on with his investigation. After all, that was his reason for being in West Virginia, and he was certain there must be other avenues to explore, other possibilities to examine.

According to the travel agent he’d consulted, the only cruise ship currently near Thailand had sailed out of Hong Kong nine days earlier and wouldn’t complete its journey until it reached Singapore in another six days. Which meant that he had six more days to wait—seven, if the senator and her husband stayed an extra night in Singapore. Surely, he could occupy himself for that amount of time.

Yet when he left the hotel late that morning, he found himself stopping at the front desk for directions to the Quinlan Camp—just in case. When he found himself following those directions, he told himself it was simple curiosity. When he pulled through the wrought iron gates, he figured she probably wasn’t even there.

There were several cars parked outside a long, low building built of hand-hewn logs. Colorful blooms spilled out of the large clay pots that flanked either side of the wooden stairs.

Joel parked his dusty Explorer beside a shiny red pickup truck and got out to stretch his legs. It was still early in the day, and the breeze was cool, the air crisp and clean and scented with the tangy perfume of cedar from the surrounding woods. Having grown up in the city, he wouldn’t consider himself a nature lover, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of this place.

He followed the flagstone path to the wide porch that spanned the length of the building. There were three doors at evenly spaced intervals, the one on the far end slightly ajar. He made his way in that direction, and his heart did a slow roll in his chest as he heard Riane’s voice coming from inside.