Desert Wolf. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

better.

      “That thing you assumed was a bear. How did you happen to see it?” he asked, foregoing any mention of what had nearly transpired here, just several moments ago.

      “That’s it? All you want to say to me?” she fired back, sure this was strange timing for a complete switch in subject matter. Yet, because Grant seemed serious, she answered his question.

      “I was driving along the dirt road I assumed led to Desperado, and the thing came out of nowhere.”

      “You thought it was a bear—why?”

      “You saw the dents it made in the car.”

      He nodded. “You mentioned that the animal looked at you.”

      “Through the windshield.”

      “Then what did it do?”

      “It went away.”

      “You didn’t do anything? It just went away?” he asked.

      “The thing was there and gone in several very frightening seconds. I’ll admit to panicking and maybe forgetting a few details.”

      “Did it have a shape?” Grant asked.

      Paxton shook her head. “The whole thing happened very fast. Seconds. All I saw was a dark blur.”

      “So you didn’t actually see what this thing was?” he pressed.

      “I’m not Sherlock Holmes. I had no desire to stick around and find out exactly what that thing might be. Are you suggesting it might not have been a bear?”

      “No. Nothing like that. I’d just like to get the word out for folks out that way to be on the lookout.”

      Again, she found this conversation odd in terms of timing. On the plus side, however, Grant hadn’t chastised her for the spying business or alluded to the fact that she might have gotten what she deserved for flaunting his warnings about going to Desperado on her own after dark.

      “Look,” she said, glancing to the bed. “We made a mistake, like people do from time to time. Hopefully what happened in this room tonight won’t hinder our negotiations.”

      Grant Wade went to the door and paused with his hand on the knob. Over one broad shoulder, he said, “Are you feeling okay, Paxton?”

      She considered shouting, No. Actually, I’m standing here in my underwear, feeling like an idiot. What do you expect?

      She said with effort, “You’ve helped to ease the fright that thing gave me. So, thanks.”

      He waited, as if unsure about how to respond to her remark. Then he nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind him as though nothing had happened, or almost happened, between them that deserved any kind of explanation.

      Paxton’s legs gave out the second she heard the door snap shut. Holding on to the air conditioner for support, she parted the curtains and looked out.

      When Grant reached the parking lot, he looked up at her with a somber expression on his handsome face that caused a reactionary ripple between the thighs the man had nearly been on intimate terms with. Grant Wade was gorgeous, for sure, and had almost made her forget herself. Throughout history, good-looking guys like this one had ruled what happened on motel mattresses.

      It just happened that Grant’s willpower had won out tonight in the absurd onset of lust between a couple of strangers destined to oppose each other over her father’s will.

      “Let that be a lesson about future negotiations,” she muttered, feeling slightly unnerved.

      Stumbling sideways, she face-planted on the bed, listening to her skyrocketing heartbeat begin to slow down before bouncing back up to make sure the door was locked. After that, she was back at the window, expecting to find Grant still out there, perhaps feeling as foolish as she did. She was unable to explain why the fact that he wasn’t in that parking lot left her feeling disappointed.

      The truck was gone. He had gone. Only his scent lingered in the room, and Paxton closed her eyes as she breathed it in.

      “All right. Okay,” she said with finality. “What’s done is done.”

      That truck wasn’t going to magically reappear because she wished it would. Nor could she replay what had happened and give it a better outcome. So with her dad’s will in mind, Paxton turned her thoughts to more serious possibilities for Grant Wade’s behavior and his sudden disappearance.

      What if it hadn’t been willpower that ended their near-miss lust fest? What if he had been messing with her?

      Maybe Grant supposed he could chase her away by combining the fine arts of shame and seduction. Maybe he planned to have sex with her and then talk her into caving on her requests. Kiss her into giving him what he wanted. Corner her into pursuing new negotiations by proving himself the better negotiator.

      What if he had somehow planted that bear on the road to Desperado, hoping she would turn around and head back to town?

      He had, after all, been out there. He had found her on the road.

      Then what? He planned to take advantage of the situation and play at being a white knight for a damsel in distress?

      Paxton sagged against the wall. If any of those things proved to be true, Grant Wade would be a devil in disguise. A monster.

      “Unfair tactics hidden behind such a pretty face?” Paxton grumbled as she stared at the empty space where the blue truck had been parked.

      “So you know, Mr. Cowboy, I’ve always been stubborn, so I will take up this challenge and be here in the morning. Just you wait and see. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

      If Grant had somehow manipulated the whole second half of this long day for his own benefit—the ride in his truck, the meal at the café, chasing her in the desert in the dark, the kiss and what else had almost happened in this room...