Desiree Holt

The loud rapping on the car window startled Paige awake. Uncurling herself from the back seat, she blinked against the sudden brightness of the sun. The rapping resumed, now more aggressive, and she saw a man’s face peering into the car.

“Go away,” she shouted.

He glared at her. “I want to talk to you. Can you get out of the car or are you glued on the back seat?”

Paige sighed and rubbed her eyes. Just what she needed. Some irate local yokel acting as if she was parked on his private property. He was really getting on her nerves. Oh, well. Her choices were limited to one. Straightening her clothing as best she could, she climbed into the front seat of the convertible, tucked her hair behind her ears and rolled down the window.

Leaning into the car was a man whose piercing blue eyes skewered her in place. Even bent low to look at her, he had a commanding presence that said I’m in charge here. At the moment his strong, craggy face was etched with deep lines of anger.

Paige stifled a yawn, trying to force herself awake. “What? Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” he said, his jaw clenched, “but you can’t sleep here. This is a place of business. We don’t allow homeless people in our lot. Go away.”

“Homeless?” Shoving the door open, she climbed out of the car, took a good look at him, and felt all the air leave her lungs as if she’d been sucker-punched. And what an incredible male specimen he was. He might be a jerk but he was a drop-dead gorgeous jerk. Raw sex radiated from him.

Tall and muscular, The dark Western-style sport jacket, crisp western shirt, and grey slacks with a crease so sharp you could cut yourself barely concealed his powerful body. The feet planted arrogantly in front of her were shod in custom Lucchese boots. Topping it all off was a Stetson planted firmly on his thick black hair.

Paige was suddenly aware of her less than tidy appearance. She was sure her hair looked like an eggbeater had just danced through it, and one stray curl kept drifting forward over her eye. Her t-shirt and jeans gave her the Rumpled Laundry look. Great, just great. Still, she was determined to retain her dignity. She smoothed her hair back from her face, trying to restore some order to the undisciplined curls, and tugged at the hem of her t-shirt.

“Do I look like a homeless person?” she challenged.

Now they were standing almost nose-to-nose. “In my experience, people who have a home don’t sleep in a car.” His deep voice was low, even, but Paige sensed controlled fury behind it.

Terrific. Her luck with men was running true to form. One day into her new life and the first man she met was beyond gorgeous and a first-class jerk.

“Oh yeah?” She glared at him, hands on her hips, jaw thrust forward. No way would he intimidate her. No matter how mouthwatering he was he was a good example of why she’d sworn off men for life. “They do if they run out of gas.”

The man glowered at her. “Out of gas? Well, that’s a damn stupid thing to do.”

Paige held her ground, trying not to be aware of his overpowering maleness. “Oh excuse me, Mr. Whoeveryouare, I’m sure you never do anything stupid.”

“That’s right. I don’t.”

“What right do you have to order me around, anyway?”

“This happens to be my property you’re trespassing on. Derelicts sleeping in my parking lot don’t impress my clients.”

“Oh, is this your property?” She traded him stare for stare, her hands on hips, not backing down an inch.

“Every bit of it. I own the lot and that building.” He stabbed at a low brick building with his finger. A discreet sign over the main entrance said simply “Law Offices.”

Paige took a closer look at him. A lawyer, huh? Just what she needed. She could easily see this man chewing up the opposition in a courtroom, but she wasn’t about to let him get the best of her.

He stood there, impatience in every line of his body, eyes narrowed, waiting for her to go.

Paige fisted her hands, fighting her anger. He might be the best-looking male specimen in the state of Texas, but he was acting like a Grade A jackass. Running out of gas at two in the morning, not even knowing where she’d landed was bad enough. To have this man treating her like she was some kind of street bum was more than she wanted to deal with.

“For a lawyer, you’re not very smart,” she snapped, voice rising again. “Gas stations aren’t usually open at two in the morning. Not in jerkwater towns like this, anyway.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s way past two in the morning. The gas stations are now open, and you might not want to insult a town where you’re caught trespassing.” He squinted at her. “Where are you from, anyway?”

He still hadn’t raised his voice but it didn’t make it any less compelling. All his words were delivered in a deep voice, which under other circumstances would have caused flutters in her tummy and send shivers down her spine.