Page 1 of Deceit & Desire

Chapter1

Who’s Going to Hurt Who First?

PLAYLIST: ”HURT” BY JOHNNY CASH

ZOE

The second myplane touched down in Bozeman, all the hair on my arms stood on end, and every cell in my body screamed at me to catch the very next flight back to Miami. Coming back to Montana was never a part of my life plan, but Roman York has always had a real knack for turning my life upside-down and inside out.

Granted, it’s not Roman’s fault my father is sick, but he was the bearer of bad news, and I’m more than willing to shoot the messenger in this case.

The text tone on my phone pinged and my heart leapt up into my throat as I pulled it out of my carry-on bag, a Coach Gotham backpack, and read the message.

Fuckface

Play along, sweetheart. Your father has enemies. They’re watching us, and they don’t need to know why you really came home.

I blinked down at my phone with a scowl.

Zoe

What enemies? Have you lost your damn mind in the last ten years, or is there something else you should have told me when you called to tell me my dad is sick?

I jabbed the “send” button harder than necessary and stuffed my phone back into my backpack. A text tone sounded right behind me, but I brushed it off, trying to stay focused on watching the luggage carousel for my matching duffle bag.

A soft, husky bark of laughter rumbled right by my ear as a pair of powerful arms slid around my waist from behind and pulled me flush against a hard wall of muscle. “Oh, you damn well know I’ve always been crazy about you, baby.”

Everything about this feels like a game of Russian roulette. The only question is this: who’s going to hurt who first this time around?

I’d know that low, gravelly, rumbling voice anywhere. An involuntary hot flush blazed through my treacherous body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My heart all but stopped, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight off a wave of lightheadedness.

“What the fuck, Roman?” I hissed the words through clenched teeth.

I was nothing short of cruel to him the last time we saw each other. Now, it’s been ten years since we’ve spoken or laid eyes on each other, and he’s playing nice? Something is very wrong, and it has to be more than just my dad collapsing and being hospitalized.

Roman’s beard scraped deliciously against the flushed skin of my cheek as he pressed a kiss there, taking his sweet time before he spoke. “I told you already. We’re being watched, and there’s a laundry list of reasons why it’s in your best interest to play along with this little charade, all of which we’ll discuss once we’re alone in the truck.”

“This is a sick joke, right? You’re screwing with me.” I squirmed, trying to tug free of Roman’s grip, but he just held me tighter.

Roman allowed his lips to brush the shell of my ear, probably savoring the opportunity to make me squirm as he whispered, “I wish I could say that’s the case, but it isn’t. If you turn around and hug my neck like you’re happy to see me, you’ll be able to clock two assholes in suits and one off-duty sheriff’s deputy a few yards behind me, all trying their best to look like they’re not watching us, but they are.”

Something about his matter-of-fact tone chilled me to my core like he’d doused my body in ice water. A shiver of apprehension slithered down my spine, raising goose bumps on my arms.

Pasting on a smile, I turned in Roman’s embrace and wound my arms around his neck, doing my best to play the part of a girl in a happy, romantic reunion with someone she’s missed. If I were anyone else, that would probably be true.

I paused, taking a second to take him in, to assess him from a purely analytical standpoint, disregarding our rocky history. From his close-cropped curly black hair to the well-worn tips of his dusty black cowboy boots, Roman was a breathtaking specimen of a rugged, stocky, powerful cowboy. The man practically radiated raw sex appeal.

If things were different between us, I would have to be crazy not to be happy to see him.I know plenty of women who’d fight for the chance to be picked up by a guy like Roman, to be held in his arms just like this.

The thought hit me like a freight train. It hit almost as hard as that old, familiar, magnetic pull between us.

Unfortunately, we are who we are, and I can’t let his sex appeal get under my skin. The last time I was stupid enough to do that, it ended in disaster…in complete and utter devastation, as a matter of fact.

I pushed up on my tip-toes, peeking over Roman’s shoulder and scanning the crowd behind him, searching for the people he claimed were watching us.

Guys in suits? Check.

A pair of them stood four or five yards away. One stood there, hands in pockets, blatantly staring, while the other studied us over the top of a travel brochure.

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