She nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said hoarsely. “But I will. It was that same nightmare, but this time when I reached the body on the ground, it was you, not him.”

He closed his eyes, his stomach in knots, his heart in his throat.

“I couldn’t save you either.”

Oh, sweet baby, you already have.

Devin pressed his lips to the top of her head. He loved her. Not exactly a revelation, but the first time he’d admitted it to himself. Question was: Should he admit it to her?

No. The woman was dead on her feet.

“Liberty? You still with me?”

“Sorry. I’m fading fast.”

“How about if I stand guard for you tonight and chase those bad dreams away?”

“Please.”

He swept her into his arms and laid her on the bed between the sheets. Then he shed his clothes and crawled in beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

Early the next morning, Devin paused in the doorway when he realized Liberty was on the hotel phone.

“Hey, it’s Liberty. I hate to call you so early, but could you meet me downstairs in the restaurant?” Pause. “In fifteen minutes?” Pause. “Great. See you then.” She hung up and turned around.

Those pale eyes cataloged every naked inch of him. The woman about killed him when she licked her lips.

“Who’re you meeting?”

“Reg.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because he’s driving the bus to Portland. My guns are on the bus, which the police impounded. I’m going to Jacksonville with you in two hours, which means I can’t get the guns before I leave. Crash assured me that the tour company is fine with my firearms being locked up on the bus—as long as the driver knows. I’m hoping Reg is all right with it.”

“He will be.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

“Sweetheart, you worry too much.” He cringed. “Sorry. It’s your job to worry. I’ll shut up now.” His eyes held that unmistakable gleam. “But we do have fifteen minutes to kill.”

“Devin. That’s not enough time.”

“It is if I only make you come once before I f**k you.” He stalked her until her back hit the sliding glass door. “See? This is the fun part of fightin’. The makin’-up part.”

“We made up last night.”

“With words. Now I want to show you that my nonverbal apologies are so much better.”

Smiling, Liberty placed her hand on his chest. “I can’t. I have to talk to Reg. If he says no, I have to stay in Houston until the bus is released. Then I’ll pick up my guns, pack them in my checked bag and fly to Denver from here.”

“But I need you in Jacksonville.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels like you’re ditching me. That you’ll return to Denver and then in ten days you’ll decline to finish the tour.”

Something—guilt?—flickered in her eyes.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Devin.”

“Tell. Me.”

“You’re wrong. I’m seeing this thing through.”

His mouth crashed down on hers with more force than he’d intended.

But Liberty twined her arms around his neck without hesitation. She changed the tenor of the kiss, from ferocious to tender. Her kiss soothed him, calming his fear that she intended to sneak out of his life for good.

She broke the lip-lock and murmured, “Better?”

“Some. I’d be a lot better if you were comin’ to Nashville with me tomorrow night after the show in Jacksonville.”

She looked at him. “You think you need me as your bodyguard in Nashville during the break?”

Tempting to lie and say yes, that he felt safe only when she was around. He stroked her cheek and opted for the truth. “No. I’d want you in Nashville as my girlfriend.”

“Devin.”

“What? You are my girlfriend and I’ll miss you. So is there any chance I can sweet-talk you or sex-hypnotize you into changing your plane ticket?”

“No. Not because it wouldn’t be fun, just the two of us getting wild in your hillbilly McMansion in Music City.”

He groaned. “You bein’ sweet and funny ain’t makin’ this easier, woman.”

“I know. But I’ve already made plans to visit Harper, Bran and the boys.” She kissed him again. “Besides, it’s only ten days.”

It’d probably feel like ten years.

“I’ve gotta meet Reg. But when I come back, you’d better be ready to demonstrate your sex-hypnotism on me.”

Chapter Twenty-three

Liberty hated driving her precious car on gravel, but visiting Harper on the Turners’ rural Wyoming ranch didn’t leave her much choice.

The sparsely populated roads from Denver had allowed her to rod the piss out of her Mustang and test its performance as well as her driving skills.

She pulled up to the stately ranch house. Bran had had his family home completely renovated right after he’d married Harper. She’d been jealous of her sister when she’d heard that Harper finally had a home of her own—more jealous than when Harper had gotten married.

Soon she’d join the ranks of homeowners. She’d touched base with her realtor in the two whirlwind days she’d spent in Denver. But as busy as she’d been, she missed Devin. They’d spent so much time in close quarters that she’d found herself turning around to tell him something only to remember he wasn’t there.




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