Laws of Attraction (15 page)

But lust wouldn’t kill him.

A vicious left-cross hit to the bag, another dodge. He’d soothe her fears. Guard her. He’d comfort her, joke with her. He could be supportive, could take care of her without
caring
. His policy on every job was strictly no feelings involved.

Hell, he lied to everybody, every damned day. He made his living adapting his persona like a chameleon.

He’d ensure Mia’s safety until he finished this, then turn her loose. It would be just another con. Dallas pummeled his swinging opponent with rapid, savage strikes. He
forbid
himself to become attached. He’d never again risk his heart.

Because losing someone he loved tore out a man’s guts.

Especially when he’d caused her death.

* * *

Mia stirred, drifted unwillingly toward consciousness. When had her mattress become so cushy? She inhaled, smelled woodsy-fresh masculine scent. She jolted awake.

She was in Dallas’ bed.

Yawning, rubbing bleary eyes in the dim gray morning, she looked down and grimaced. She’d slept, fitfully, in her wedding dress. Dumb? Yeah. Uncomfortable? Absolutely. But she hadn’t remembered until after Dallas had fled—no other word for it—that she couldn’t reach the gown’s back. And she’d been afraid to find him and ask him to unbutton it.

Because she’d wanted to comfort him, the way he’d comforted her. She yearned to wrap her arms around him. Hold him, kiss him, and ease his pain.

Mia threw back the soft quilt and luxurious ivory sheets, swung her legs over the side of the high mattress and wobbled to her feet on the chilly wooden floor. If she’d gone to Dallas last night and let him undress her in the dark, felt his agile fingertips stroking her spine, his warm breath feathering over her neck … she wouldn’t have woken up alone.

She glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand beside the photo of Dallas and his sister.
Oh, no
! Despite the gloomy overcast, it was way late. She must’ve dozed through the alarm! Why hadn’t Dallas woken her up? No way was she going to be able to shower, do her hair and makeup, then drive to her apartment in time to scrounge up something decent from her limited wardrobe to wear to Esteban’s. She turned, intending to fling open the door and run downstairs—then froze.

A pair of women’s boots she didn’t recognize sat on the floor at the end of the bed. Adorable, black suede scrunch ankle boots with chunky heels. Mia frowned.
What
? Clothing was draped over the footboard. An above-the-knee gray pencil skirt. A cute black silk blouse with white and gray polka-dots, short flutter sleeves and a peplum waist. Black thigh-high stockings. A white demi-bra and panty set, printed with … Mia smiled. Swirly colorful lollipops.

Her breath caught. And …
ohmigod
… a mouthwatering jacket of supple leather the color of ripe raspberries. She picked up the buttery soft jacket with trembling hands. Hip-length, it had a zippered front, zippered pockets and mandarin collar. She examined the skirt, blouse, lingerie and boots. Tasteful, feminine, and fun, everything was brand new and exactly her size. The perfect ensemble to boost her confidence for brunch at Montoya’s mansion with two chic women who were far more built, and far more beautiful.

A lump balled in her throat as she blinked silly moisture from her lashes.
Dammit
! This
wasn’t
counterfeit consideration. He had to have woken up at the butt-crack of dawn to buy all this. Why did Dallas McQuade have to go and do something so genuinely sweet?

She could
not
face him right now without grabbing him and kissing him senseless.

A brisk knock from the hallway made her jump. “Mia?” Dallas called. “You gotta get up, darlin’. We need to leave for Esteban’s in a half hour.”

Steeling her resolve, she walked to the door, then realized she was still hugging the jacket. “Ah … I’m up. Come in.”

The panel swung open, and Dallas strode inside. He must’ve slipped into the bathroom this morning and stealth-showered and shaved without waking her. He was dressed in his brown cowboy boots, black button-down Levi’s that emphasized those long legs and imposing male physique, and a body-hugging loden green cashmere sweater that silhouetted rock-hard biceps, sculpted pecs and ridged abs. The sleeves were pushed up to frame strong forearms dusted with dark hair.

Mia’s mouth went dry. Her husband looked utterly …
edible
.

He glanced at the leather hugged to her chest, then at her. His sensual lips curved. “I figured you’d like that jacket. It’ll look sexy as nine kinds of hell on you.”

“I … do. Like it.” She was finding it tougher and tougher to breathe. “Very much … I … lo-love
everything
. But why … ? I don’t … You shouldn’t have …”

He scowled. “What in the world are you doing wearing your wedding dress?” His expression turned aghast. “Did you
sleep
in it?”

“Um … I couldn’t unbutton it, and I didn’t want to disturb—”

His nostrils flared. “Jesus, Mia, do you have to be so all-fired independent all the
damned
time? For just once, couldn’t you— It wouldn’t kill you to ask—” Dallas gritted his teeth. Exhaled sharply. “Turn around.”

“Thank you for the clothes.” She suppressed a frisson of pleasure as those big, gentle hands patiently coaxed tiny buttons through each loop, one-by-one down her spine. “You have an infallible eye … the pieces coordinate like you picked the ensemble from a fashion magazine.”

“When you grow up with that many women around, you’re forced learn how to shop … even if you’d rather jog barefoot over rusted spikes.”

“How did you get the exact right sizes?”

“I have an eye for detail. And can read labels, sugar.” Humor eased the tension from his voice. “Besides, don’t thank me, thank the outfit magician.”

“The outfit magician, huh?”

“Yep.” Dallas’ deep chuckle spiraled another ribbon of enjoyment through her. He leaned close, his mischievous murmur tickling her ear. “I can also make a bunny rabbit pop out and wave his ears. Guaranteed to thrill.”

Mia flushed hot all over. Amused, aroused, she laughingly headed toward the bathroom. “Keep the rabbit in the hat, cowboy. I need to shower and change, or we’re going to be late.”

Inside the master bath, Mia closed the door and inhaled pine-scented mist from Dallas’s earlier shower. Regretting she had no time to soak in the decadent jetted tub, she levered on the water, stripped, and then stepped beneath the multiple showerheads inside the huge glassed-in slate shower.

The sight of brand new bottles of rose-scented shampoo and bodywash sitting on one of the inset shelves brought a second unexpected surge of bewildering emotion. She’d never been taken care of. Had never felt valued. Wanted. Cherished.

She’d married an honorable, inscrutable,
very
complicated man.

And she still didn’t understand his motives for marrying
her
.

But the stunning thought that maybe, just maybe … she was starting to want to keep him … hurtled Mia into a full-blown panic attack.

By the time she’d dried her body and her hair, and applied minimal makeup from the basics in her purse, the panicked nausea had subsided and she’d almost stopped shaking. A roll of thunder overhead warned of an impending spring storm as she donned the fabulous new clothes, then hurried downstairs.

Dallas was waiting by the back door with his brown leather blazer already on, one wide shoulder propped against the jamb. He straightened when he saw her. His gaze drifted from her face to her torso before leisurely traveling the length of her stocking-clad legs, then moving down to her boots. A slow, wicked grin curled his mouth. Then just as gradually, just as deliberately, his gaze slid up over her again.

Her glance locked with his. She stared into his eyes, the silver striations in those compelling midnight irises as clear as crystals, the burn of sensual awareness as intimate as a kiss.

His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. He said nothing.

She said nothing.

Her heart jackhammered. Warmth rippled across her skin, her body blooming beneath his heated regard like a flower reaching toward the sun. She wanted to explore the connection she shared with this intelligent, complex, fascinating man more than she’d ever wanted anything.

And the wanting terrified her.

She couldn’t lose focus. Not now. Not so close to finally realizing her dreams.

She swallowed the bitter forlornness lodged in her throat. Swallowed again to stifle her longing. Finally, she mobilized her paralyzed vocal cords. “If you’re finished checking me out, we should probably go.”

He dropped his lids, the thicket of sooty lashes hiding his expression as he turned to open the door. “I’m sorely afraid I’m not finished with you by a long shot, darlin’,” he murmured.

His husky, reluctant confession shivered over her like the erotic stroke of satin against bare skin. She walked past him on quivering legs and into the garage.

Stay on task. Priorities bolted in place, common sense front and center
.

Shoring up her defenses, she raised her chin. “I’d like you to add the clothing to the bill along with the wedding expenses. I can’t let you buy me such an expensive gift.” He’d removed the price tags, but he hadn’t bought those labels at Target.

His mouth flattened into a hard line. He stabbed the key into the Jeep’s passenger door lock. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing personal intended.” He yanked the car door open. “I’m deducting them as a business expense—maintaining appearances for brunch with the boss. Can’t have Esteban thinking I let my wife run around wearing rags.”

Sorrow knifed her as she slid into the seat. She’d bruised his feelings. Stolen his joy in giving. Deep down, she
knew
Dallas hadn’t bought her the clothes merely for appearances sake. Yet the vulnerable girl inside her couldn’t quite believe in his kindness. Generosity always came with painful strings attached.

“Dallas … I …” Her voice wavered, and Mia bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. “I didn’t mean to—”

He held up a hand. Closing his eyes, he propped his right arm against the car’s roof, rested his forehead on it. After several beats of silence, his eyes opened, and he bent down to her. “You know, I might just have set a new record for having to apologize to one person in one week.”

“I’m sorry.” Staring at her lap, she tugged her jacket together with bloodless fingers. “You were thoughtful and generous and went out of your way to do something nice, and that was really bitchy of me.”

“
Don’t
do that. Don’t say you’re sorry when I lose my temper and act like a jackass.” He touched her shoulder. “Mia, look at me.”

She met his compassionate gaze, and he bent closer, cupped her cheek. “
I
own my words and my actions. You aren’t accountable for my conduct.”

“I seem to have the unerring ability to antagonize people.”

“Sweetheart, the way other people behave is not your fault.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “The man who beat you—he put the blame on you, didn’t he?”

She flinched, starting to tremble again. The Colonel’s icy disapproval reverberated in her memory.
Look what you made me do, Mia. You brought this on yourself. I wouldn’t have to punish you if you’d just obey the rules
.

“H-how did you know?” she whispered.

“That’s what abusers do, honey. Like all criminals, they blame everybody but themselves. No matter what he said—he’s responsible. None of what happened to you was your fault.” Dallas brushed a tumbled lock of hair back from her temple. “I know you’ve been hurt and you’re afraid to confide in me. But sometimes, Mia, determination and strength and courage aren’t enough. Sometimes you need to accept help.” His voice lowered. “Sometimes going it alone is just damned lonely. There’s no shame leaning on somebody else for a change.”

Her throat closed up. “You really believe that Dallas?” she choked out. “Because it looks to me like you don’t have anyone to lean on, either.”

Mia scrounged in her purse for tissues as Dallas backed the Jeep out of the garage into the gloomy morning and steered it down the street. He was the one not talking now.

Thunder rumbled again, reverberating through the silence.

She blotted her damp lashes. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me. I’ve never been a crybaby. Haven’t cried since I was six.”

He offered her a bittersweet smile. “You’ve been through the wringer lately. Emotions happen.”

“Well, I
hate
being emotional. It makes me feel so …” She blew her nose, striving for equilibrium on the roller coaster.

“Scared? Vulnerable? Yeah, you’re human, sweetheart.”

“But men don’t like—” Biting off the incriminating statement, she stuffed the tissue into a garbage bag he’d hung on the console.

Dallas shifted gears with a brutal jerk. “When you cried, he’d beat you even more.”

She stiffened. She’d learned fast that tears only antagonized the Colonel. “Y-you know that, too?”

“Fits the pattern,” he gritted. “It’s all about power. Fucking
sadist
.”

“Dallas?” An abhorrent thought had her fighting sickness. “You understand so much about this. Were you … Did someone … hurt you?”

“Nope. My sister Christie is a nurse practitioner in a women’s clinic. I used to help her study, and abuse awareness is part of the curriculum.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Did you ever tell anyone?”

“I … I tried. Nobody believed me.”

He caught her glance, held it. “I’ll believe you. When you’re ready.”

She went warm, then cold all over. The fact that she actually considered talking to him about it shocked Mia to her marrow. After her first futile attempt as a child had backfired horribly, she’d never told anyone, including Val. Odd how confiding even a few scant details to Dallas had eased some of the relentless pressure inside her.

“Not here.” Mia flipped down the visor to peer into the mirror at her red eyes and blotchy skin. “Not now.” She dabbed away smudged mascara. “Not when I have to sit across from Esteban and finesse—”