Page 12 of Guarded By the SEAL
Almost immediately, Teslyn’s voice rang out from the balcony above him. “All the terrible things that are going on here, and you’re investigatingme?”
Wyatt squeezed his eyes closed tightly and cursed under his breath. He’d checked to make sure she wasn’t out there, but apparently he hadn’t heard her slip onto the balcony after that.
Careless.
He slowly turned and raised his gaze to see her. She was silhouetted just as she had been when he’d first seen her at the front door, only this time, she was wearing a sheer material that left the outline of her body clearly exposed—a sharp contrast to the conservative sweater and pants she’d worn when he arrived. And what an outline it was, shapely and exquisitely feminine. “Couldn’t sleep?” he called.
She descended the stairs with a huffy gait. “You have no right to ask your cronies to investigate my past. You are here to help me and Ivy. That’s it.”
He cocked his head at her obviously incorrect understanding. “Is that right?”
“You’re damn straight, that’s right. Ghost asked you to help me, not to sic your dogs on my backstory.” She reached him, one side of her face visible in the moonlight, the other dark. Her thin cotton nightgown was white and flowing, with spaghetti straps that kept it from being something his grandmother might wear. He was keenly aware of the perky peaks of her tits beneath the fabric, and wondered if her nipples were small and dark or pink and rosy.
Not the time, Sorenson.But she was angry, and there was nothing that turned him on quite as much as an angry woman, all flushed skin and spitting fire.
He shifted his weight to deter his growing erection. “My understanding was a little different.”
“Oh, yeah?” She crossed her arms, the position pressing a nipple against the thin fabric.
Dark and small.
Jesus Christ, he did not need to know that. He forced himself to focus. “Yeah. As a matter of fact, I was under the impression I was here of my own free will, and with that comes a bit of leeway.”
“Leeway.”
“Right. See, I need to make sure you are who you say you are, and that you’re telling the truth. Because if I’m going to evade the authorities and keep you under my protection, that’s aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
She scoffed. “I am not a fugitive.”
“Depends on how you look at it. On the one hand, you claim you arrived to find your mother’s trailer in flames, and you rescued your sister from untold danger. On the other hand, we have the long arm of the law telling me, the public, and anyone who will listen that you’re wanted for arson and kidnapping.”
She gasped. “No!”
“Yes. And some Good Samaritan saw your pictures on TV and told the authorities she saw you at a truck stop less than twenty miles from here. They already pulled the surveillance tape, so right about now, they’re focusing their search on hotel rooms and property rentals in this immediate area.”
“Oh my God, we have to go.” She turned toward the house.
He caught her by the arm. “Not so fast. I’m sure you see my predicament.”
Her expression was unguarded, and he watched as her mind came to the obvious conclusion. “Do you really think I burned the trailer down myself, and kidnapped the little sister I just found out I had?”
She felt good beneath his hand, her skin soft and warm where his was calloused and cold. The moment he thought it, he released her as if he’d been burned. “I haven’t decided what I believe, but you’d have to be off your rocker if you think I’m not going to look into your past. Decide for myself if you’re credible.”
She absently rubbed at her arm where he’d held it. “I understand.”
He nodded. “Pack your things.”
She blew out air. “I haven’t even unpacked them.”
“Then get dressed and wake Ivy. We need to hit the road.”
“Where will we go?”
There was only one place that made sense, but going there felt like crossing an invisible line. He pushed the thought out of his head. “My place, outside of Atlanta.”
She eyed him warily at that. “She just finally got to sleep, poor kid. She was a wreck, crying and missing her mother.”
“What about you? Marilyn was your mother, too.” She’d been upset in the kitchen, yet it didn’t seem like enough. But who was he to judge someone else’s grief?
