Slow Dancing With a Texan

Rocking a baby, watching it grow were things she’d refused to consider.

She’d been so wrapped up in her career, so busy getting ahead that she hadn’t given a family of her own a second thought.

Lainie blinked back wetness. She slid a glance over at Sloan’s profile, wondering what he thought about having kids.

She chastised herself for being an idiot. Know a guy for three days, share one spectacular dance and an equally spectacular kiss and you start thinking of diapers and baby blankets? That was just the sort of thing she counseled against in her column. She’d told literally hundreds of women not to do anything so foolish.

Good thing she and Sloan had only shared kisses.

Oh, but she wanted to share so much more….

Dear Reader,

Welcome back to another passionate month at Silhouette Desire. A Scandal Between the Sheets is breaking out as Brenda Jackson pens the next tale in the scintillating DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS series. We all love the melodrama and mayhem that surrounds this Southern family—how about you?

The superb Beverly Barton stops by Silhouette Desire with an extra wonderful title in her bestselling series THE PROTECTORS. Keeping Baby Secret will keep you on the edge of your seat—and curl your toes all at the same time. What would you do if you had to change your name and your entire history? Sheri WhiteFeather tackles that compelling question when her heroine is forced to enter the witness protection program in A Kept Woman. Seems she was a kept woman of another sort, as well…so be sure to pick up this fabulous read if you want the juicy details.

Kristi Gold has written the final, fabulous installment of THE TEXAS CATTLEMAN’S CLUB: THE STOLEN BABY series with Fit for a Sheikh. (But don’t worry, we promise those sexy cattlemen with be back.) And rounding out the month are two wonderful stories filled with an extra dose of passion: Linda Conrad’s dramatic Slow Dancing With A Texan and Emilie Rose’s suppercharged A Passionate Proposal.

Enjoy all we have to offer this month—and every month—at Silhouette Desire.

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Slow Dancing With a Texan

Linda Conrad

LINDA CONRAD

Born in Brazil to a commercial pilot and his wife, Linda Conrad was raised in south Florida and has been a dreamer and storyteller for as long as she can remember. After her mother’s death a few years ago, she moved from her then-home in Texas to Southern California and gave up her previous life as a stockbroker to rededicate herself to her first love—writing.

Linda and her husband, along with a Siamese mix cat named Sam, recently moved back to south Florida. She’s been writing contemporary romances for about five years and loves sharing them with readers. She enjoys growing roses, reading cozy mysteries and sexy romances, and driving her little convertible in the sunshine. But most important, Linda loves learning about—and living with—passion.

It makes Linda’s day to hear from readers. Visit with her at www.LindaConrad.com.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

One

Danged, crazy-fool redhead.

With one swift curse under his breath, Texas Ranger Sloan Abbott checked his watch and headed across the narrow downtown street toward the lobby where the foolhardy woman stood in full view. He wasn’t supposed to meet Lainie Gardner in her office on the twelfth floor of the Houston News building for another half hour.

He’d had serious reservations about taking this assignment. Being a bodyguard wasn’t his normal area of expertise. But he knew enough to be sure that a stalking victim was supposed to follow instructions.

Her life might depend on it.

Sloan had spent the day inspecting every inch of the building and the surrounding area. He knew the elevator systems and the location of each closet and air duct. No one could’ve done a better job of securing the premises than he had.

He’d also spent a good deal of time studying a dossier on Ms. Gardner that the captain had given him. The surprise was that he’d been fascinated by the interesting bits and pieces the file had supplied of her life.

Sloan had already come to the conclusion it would definitely be worthwhile to postpone the trip that had been the original reason he’d taken a leave of absence from the Texas Rangers. Protecting a beautiful advice columnist seemed like a much better idea at the moment than searching out potentially painful truths about his background.

So what does the gorgeous woman with such a famous face do? She casually strolls out of the elevator into the open lobby in full daylight.

He’d had no trouble recognizing her from across the street. Of course, he’d been studying her pictures. But he also knew that for years her face had been splattered in newspapers as an advertisement for her syndicated advice columns. With her flash of bright-copper hair, she’d be hard for anyone to miss.

As irritated as he was with her casual behavior, he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face when he walked closer to the reality of Lainie Gardner—despite how foolish she was being at the moment.

The pictures hadn’t done her justice. Her body was compact, sturdy but curved in all the right places. And even dressed as she was, in loose-fitting pants and a sweater, he could tell that most of her five-foot, seven-inch body was made up of long, sexy legs.

Have mercy. He’d always been a leg man.

His mood changed dramatically when he saw Lainie stop in full view of the street and begin to laugh at something the other woman said. She’d been told to wait in her office until he arrived to give her instructions and escort her home. She was in danger and had been threatened. So what the hell was she doing?

He heard the muffled crack at the same instant the glass in front of him fractured into a million crystal slivers and flew in every direction. Someone screamed. Someone else shouted. But Sloan didn’t waste time wondering where the shot had come from.

After sprinting through the shattered window, he pushed past hysterical bystanders to the spot where the two women lay. Both of them were facedown on the marble floor…and there was blood. Lots of blood.

Within two seconds he’d determined that both women were still alive and that Lainie hadn’t lost consciousness. She didn’t fight him, as he pulled her up and quickly decided to remove her from the line of fire. If she was hurt badly, he’d find out soon enough. But for now, he wasn’t taking any chances on her being shot again while he stopped to check her wounds.

Another sudden hail of bullets had bystanders dodging out of the way to the sidewalk. “Call 9-1-1!” he shouted to anyone within earshot.

But Sloan was sure that, when he got Lainie out of sight, the shooting would stop. She had to be the target.

It was a danged good thing he’d checked this building out earlier. Sloan dashed into an alcove and found the side exit to an employee parking lot.

He stopped at the door and gently lowered her to the floor. Kneeling beside her, he checked her pulse and looked for any obvious or bleeding wounds. Her eyes fluttered open and he saw the shock in her eyes, but he didn’t see pain.

Relieved, Sloan carefully opened the heavy metal door and scrutinized the lot. It seemed quiet enough, but he knew that in the brilliant sunlight of the late afternoon their chances of making it to his pickup without being seen were pretty slim. He lifted her again and laid her across his shoulder in preparation to make a run for it.

She moaned and squirmed. “My…my sister. Please help her.”

“Stay still! Don’t move,” he ground out in a whisper. “Someone will be coming to help the others. You’re still in danger.”

A second later he slid them both past the protection of the door and dashed toward the alley where he’d parked. He managed to make it across the asphalt lot without incident by darting between the parked cars.

“Wait a minute!” she yelled as she grabbed the back of his shirt with both hands. “Stop. I can’t…”

He ignored her words because he didn’t want to waste his running breath, but he was grateful that her voice sounded so strong. Maybe she hadn’t been hit at all. He needed a peaceful moment to stop and really check her over.

Until then he had mere seconds to decide whether stealth or speed was their best chance at survival. Quickly making the decision to get the hell out of Dodge as fast as possible, Sloan punched the button on his keyless entry remote and heard the familiar but noisy beeps coming from his pickup in the alleyway twenty feet beyond.

He’d never before realized how loud and echoing the sound of the alarm-disengage truly was. Too late now.

Sloan all but threw her into the front seat and slammed the door. He made it clear around to the driver’s side and had the key in the ignition before hearing the ping of bullets as they hit the asphalt behind them.

“Stay down,” he snapped at her.

“I have to go back.” She popped her head up as he gunned the engine. “My sister…all the others…they need help. I have to help them.”

“The police will take care of it. But you’ve got to keep low.” He pushed at her shoulder while the truck screamed out of the alley.

Lainie banged her head on the glove box as she slid off the seat like a rag doll and landed on the dirty floor mat below. She let loose a string of very unladylike remarks and struggled to hang on.

The engine revved and the tires squealed as the truck jerked madly around a corner. What in heaven’s name was happening to her?

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and chanced a glimpse at the crazy cowpoke who’d manhandled her into this predicament. At once Lainie took in the shiny, leather cowboy boots and the spotless white Western hat.

Almost chalking him up to being an out-of-control urban cowboy, she briefly wondered if this was a kidnapping. Before that thought registered, he dragged at the wheel and sent the pickup truck into a spin.

It couldn’t have been more than two seconds later when he grimaced and righted the wheel again. But in that instant, she’d managed a glimpse under his denim jacket of a freshly starched white Western-cut shirt, a dark blue tie and the silver badge pinned neatly over his breast pocket.

Just then she remembered. Her mother had said to expect Captain Chet Johnson’s handpicked man this afternoon. What was the man’s name? Oh, yes. Sergeant Sloan Abbott of the Texas Rangers.

“We’ve got a black van on our tail.” His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror.

“Someone is following us?” she rasped. “But why?”

He shot her a quick, dark look that could’ve easily pinned her to the dashboard. “If it’s somehow managed to escape your notice, people have been shooting at you for the last ten minutes.”

Lainie thought about the cracking sound she’d heard when the whole world exploded around her. She’d been standing in the lobby, chuckling over some joke her sister had told when they’d heard the noise. Both she and Suzy had hit the floor in the same instant. So it must’ve been gunfire that broke the glass window next to them.

Suzy. My goodness, what had happened to her?

“Please,” she yelled over the roar of the engine and the screech of tires. “The others…we have to make sure they’re okay. Turn around.”

“The HPD are there by now,” he muttered without looking in her direction. “And probably the paramedics. I heard the sirens. They can handle them a lot better than we can.” He dragged at the wheel again and the truck slid around a corner.

Whoa! Her questions would have to wait, as the ride got rougher and she had to fight to maintain her balance. Lainie moved her arm to get a better hold on the seat as the truck rocketed into a left turn. She gasped when she caught a glimpse of her own bloodstained sleeve.

The lawman’s head jerked around at the sound. “Where are you injured?” He’d obviously spotted the blood, too.

“I…I don’t know. I…don’t think I am.” She wasn’t sure. Trying to concentrate on both her body and her balance, she’d discovered that her arms and legs were definitely cramped by being shoved under the dashboard. But the rest of her mostly just felt numb.

“The van’s side windows are blacked out but I think I can see at least three of them through the front,” he yelled, not waiting for the rest of her answer. “I’m going to lose them. Another block and we’ll hit the freeway on-ramp. Can you stay put until then, Lainie?”

She didn’t think she had much choice, so she nodded her head. He’d called her Lainie. It gave her a solid, calming feeling to hear him say her name. She realized that anyone might know who she was from reading her daily column. But still, this man’s very presence said he was a lawman—her very own Texas Ranger bodyguard.

“You’re Sloan Abbott, aren’t you?”

He nodded his answer but didn’t take the time to speak. The truck tires squealed in protest as he made one more fast right turn. She was sincerely relieved she hadn’t been able to see that maneuver.

The truck accelerated as she felt it travel up a hill. They’d apparently hit a freeway on-ramp, but she couldn’t be sure which one. The newspaper’s office was located within a few minutes of a half-dozen different interstates near downtown Houston. But since she couldn’t see out the windows, she had no idea of where they were.

Sloan suddenly reached his long arm over and grabbed her by the front of her sweater, pulling her up and onto the seat. “Buckle up, Ms. Gardner.”

Lainie yelped in protest at being so roughly buffeted, but she turned around and did exactly what she’d been told. After buckling her seat belt, she hung on to the door handle with one hand while bracing herself against the seat with the other. The scenery whizzed by in a blur.

She wasn’t sure she could catch her breath, and silently begged him to stop this madness and pull over. When he did, she owed him a piece of her mind. His driving was scarier than whoever was chasing them.

He whirled his truck past a few speeding cars as if they were standing still, whipping in and out of all three lanes. Lainie checked him out with a speculative glance.

His jaw was set, his dark eyes concentrated on the road. But even in profile, she could see he was easy to look at. If it had been any other time, she’d be interested in getting to know a man who looked as good as this one. With a hard but handsome face, he looked strong and slightly dangerous. Just the way a lawman should. The thought gave her a little thrill, but this wasn’t the time for that, either.

She watched him check the rearview mirror again, and automatically shot a glance behind her through the back window. Sure enough, a plain black van was keeping up with them, just a few cars back.

Yikes! Was this whole thing really connected to the nasty letters she’d been receiving? Lainie had thought they were just a joke—one in very bad taste to be sure, but not terribly scary.

The Houston Police Department hadn’t thought this stalker business was very serious, either. Because, although they’d taken statements from Lainie, her staff and family, the police told her there wasn’t too much they could do unless the writer made an overt move to harm someone. That practical stance had seemed reasonable at the time.

But all this shooting and chasing was certainly overt enough for her now. Silently she thanked heaven for her mother’s old friend, Chet Johnson. At least he’d taken the threat seriously enough to insist on finding a man to be her bodyguard in his off-duty hours.

The idea of a bodyguard had initially seemed silly. She didn’t have time or the patience for such nonsense. In fact, she’d been surprised that her mother made such a big deal over something she’d considered so unimportant.

Maybe Lainie would consider apologizing to her mom now. But it still seemed a little overboard.

“Pros,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Hang on. We’re about to shake them loose.”

He put his foot on the gas and sped out of the left lane, making the next exit ramp on two wheels and with no room to spare. Without bothering to stop for the light at the bottom of the ramp, he made two quick left turns and headed up the on-ramp going in the opposite direction.

Positive they must’ve lost the van with that move, Lainie caught her breath. Looking into the setting sun, she realized for the first time that they’d been heading east toward Louisiana. And now they were headed…where? Back to the city?

“Where are we going?” she croaked past a dry mouth.

Ignoring her question, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a mobile phone. He punched in one number, then threw her a narrowed look as he spoke.

She overheard him making some reference to her and the Houston police, and guessed that he was speaking to his boss, Captain Johnson. Lainie was desperate to speak to Chet, too.

“Right. Code twenty-seven. Got it,” he said into the phone. Then he flipped it shut and stashed it.

“Wait! I wanted to talk to him.” She swiveled in her seat and glared at the side of Sloan’s head.

“Sorry.” He didn’t turn but continued to pay attention to the road ahead. “The captain said the Houston police want to talk to us, but they’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. It’s too risky for you to show up at one of the substations right now. Too obvious.”

“But you didn’t ask about my sister. I have to know what happened to her…to everyone.” Lainie was unaccustomed to being out of control.

“The most important thing now is to get you out of sight and keep you alive. The shooting stopped back there when you were removed from the scene.”

She took a calming breath and steadied her voice. “So where are we going?”

“We’re going to ground,” he told her. “Find a nice quiet place. Somewhere no one would think to look for you.”

“Home?” That sounded like a great plan to her. No one would think to look for her at the one place where she should be.

His mouth cracked into a near smile. “Not likely, Ms. Gardner. I think you’ve been visible enough for one day.” He didn’t look at her but swung the wheel in another fast exit. “We’re going to find a sleazy little motel so we can regroup and get to know each other better.”

Sloan chuckled when he’d spotted the look of absolute terror on Lainie’s face as he mentioned the sleazy motel. Her wide green eyes were filled with shock. Either she was afraid of stepping down a rung on her social ladder by checking into a fleabag joint, or she was terrified at the thought of getting to know him any better.

But for him, as he’d said the words, a picture had formed in his mind of her looking up at him from a motel bed, glistening with sweat, panting and breathless from having been completely loved—by him. Oh, and he would do a very thorough job of loving her, too. That was a pure fact. But now was not the time for those thoughts.

He forced himself to push aside the lustful images and concentrated instead on trolling the surface streets, backtracking and sidetracking to make sure the tail was gone. Trying not to think about how close she’d come to being killed, Sloan instead considered why a stalker would’ve hired professional killers.

That mode of operation certainly didn’t fit the profile of an ordinary nutcase. Most stalkers who took the time to send a warning letter generally wanted to see the face of their intended victims when they finally made a move.

Nothing about this case added up.

He found what he’d been searching for in a rundown dump located a few blocks off Westheimer in an area that had seen better days. The End of the Trail Motel had a parking lot in back where he could pull in under overhanging trees and hopefully not be spotted.

Cutting the engine, he turned to Lainie and nearly lost his breath. The woman’s sleeves were covered in blood and her hair glittered with tiny shards of glass. He wondered if he should be taking her to the nearest hospital, not to some dirty joint with peeling stucco walls and half-graveled driveways.

“You never answered me before, Lainie.” His voice cracked as he tried to sound calm. “Where are you hurt? Did any of the bullets hit you?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance to answer you, or even get two words in for that matter. And I’ll be surprised if I’m not totally black and blue from that wild ride. But no…I don’t think I was shot. I just can’t imagine where all this blood came from.”

“Sit quietly until I get us checked in, then. We need to make sure you’re not cut and still bleeding. Try not to move too much.” His heart was beating double time at the thought of leaving her alone, even for a few minutes. But he had no choice.

“Check in here? We’re going to stay at this place?”

“Just long enough to figure out what to do,” he told her as he stepped from the truck. “Now, be still and wait for me. Any more sudden movements and some of that glass in your hair might get in your eyes.” He pushed the truck’s automatic-door-lock buttons and stalked toward the motel’s office.

It took her a long moment to drag in another breath. Glass in her eyes? All of a sudden she realized she was scared. Down-deep, panic-inducing scared.

She was afraid to cry, didn’t even want to tremble for fear of the glass. But it wasn’t the thought of being cut that had her so terrified. No. It was the idea that someone out there truly wanted to kill her.

Worse yet, she simply couldn’t let herself get out of control. Oh, how she wished she had her sister here to talk to. Suzy always had an amazing way of calming her down and seeing the right answers through the haze of conflicting information. But Suzy might be fighting for her life right now. That inconceivable thought was the real reason Lainie was feeling so at a loss.

And now she would have to stay in a broken-down motel with a lawman who seemed like the strong, silent he-man type—and was gorgeous to boot.

Lordy, she was too scared to think straight. What difference did it make what Sloan looked like?

She had to start thinking clearly. She was bright enough and tough enough to outsmart any old stalker. All she had to do was concentrate on the problem and stop being sidetracked.

The truck’s door locks clicked again and Sloan wrenched open the passenger side door. “Your castle awaits, ma’am.”

He wouldn’t let her walk the fifty feet to a room he’d already opened that faced the back lot. Swiftly and quietly he carried her toward the two-story cement building, the one painted a pea-green color.

All the while she worried about him putting his hands on her body. And wondered how in the world she was supposed to concentrate on anything else.

Gently setting her on her feet just inside the door, he shut and locked it behind them. Then he ordered her to close her eyes.

“Why?” Although the cheap motel bedspread and the spot-stained gold carpeting left a lot to be desired, she couldn’t imagine what he wanted to keep her from seeing.

“Just close your eyes and be quiet a minute,” he replied. “Before we do anything else, I’ve got to remove a few tiny bits of glass that have fallen onto your eyelashes.”