Page 17 of Under Control

Frustrated, she cleared her throat. Was he testing her?

“I said—thank you.” The words came out a little heavier than she’d expected, and a thickness filled the air. “For saving me, again.”

“I heard you the first time,” he replied, the sound of amusement in his voice. “I just needed a sanity check.”

She squeezed the blanket harder and made a mental note never to open up to him again, since all he wanted to do was throw it in her face.

“Let this be a lesson,” Carrick went on in a lecturing tone. “Listen to me the first timeandtrust me.”

“No,” she said sharply, making herself clear. She rolled onto her other side, away from him.

The least she could do was not look at him or what she could see of his tall, dark, muscular form. She pressed her eyes closed, willing it to all go away and the panic inside her chest to cease.What am I going to do now?

Quickly, sleep found her. Or to be more accurate, a state of unconsciousness took her under.

* * * *

Danica flickered her eyes open slowly what must have been hours and hours later, only to see soft beams of morning sunlight breaking through the aged curtains in the motel room. She kept the white blanket close to her chest, protecting herself out of sheer reflex. Hearing rumblings off to the side of the room, she turned her head.

A familiar tall man made solely out of sculpted hard muscle in a gray fitted long-sleeved T-shirt and fitted black jeans was bent over a black duffel bag on the floor by the front door. Still dopey from a rough night, she watched him for a second or two as he reached up and smoothed back his hair. Her waking mind just drank him in, too groggy to feel. The golden tan on the back of his neck spoke of life experience and plenty of time outside. At least, she thought, there was something they’d have in common.

He leaned back and looked over his shoulder at her. She sucked in breath as a ray of morning sun caught his face, illuminating his eyes. She’d thought they were dark brownish—but they were actually a dark bluish-green and they shocked and startled her. She sucked in her breath, feeling goosebumps crawl up her thighs. There was something so intense about the way he looked at her.

“Morning,” he greeted her in his low, cool voice, looking her up and down as she sat up in bed.

Rubbing her hands over her cool, naked arms, she suddenly felt very exposed in just a gray tank top and a pair of purple bikini-cut underwear. Grabbing something from the black bag on the ground, he then moved to grab a chair and pulled it up to the bedside table, just feet from her. His scent filled her nose, and she couldn’t help but flutter her lashes as she inhaled. He was so damn masculine, so resolute—and that was enough to give her pause.

“Breakfast,” Carrick said, putting a napkin down on the bedside table and placing what appeared to be some sort of sandwich on it.

“What is this?” Danica’s voice cracked as she reached over to inspect it while he unscrewed the top of a bottle of water for her.

“It’s a breakfast sandwich.” He raised his eyebrow, searching her. “Look… It’s not much, but I only packed essentials for this…job.”

The word hung briefly between them as she flitted her gaze up to his. It was clear that he felt deep discomfort at the current arrangement, which suited her well, since she didn’t like it either. He was being paid to be there. He didn’t want to be.

She reached out and picked at the sandwich—bread, cheese, a sausage patty and a tomato. Another chill ran up her spine as she looked up and saw his forehead furrowed as he watched her.

“Um…” she began, clearing her throat.

“Yes?” his tone turned to a growl.

She shifted on the edge of the bed and let out a breath. “I’m vegan.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I don’t eat meat.” Her voice grew small.

Groaning, he reached over and pulled out the sausage patty from the sandwich, reaffixing it back together as bread, cheese and a tomato.

She let out another breath, closing her eyes in regret. She was not a difficult person. She wasnot.

“Vegans don’t eat dairy either,” she specified.

He narrowed his eyes farther, and his jaw flexed. Without saying anything, he pulled out the piece of cheese and patted the sandwich back together as bread and a tomato.

“And bread usually has egg products in it…so,” she began, but she couldn’t continue as he let out a low growl and grabbed the tomato out, flinging it on the napkin alone.

“I’ll find you a fucking apple,” he grunted at her, pushing himself off the bed. “You need to eat. We’ve got things to do.”

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