High-Stakes Passion Read Online Free PDF Page B

more. “You want to help?” He stood and put his hands on his hips, displaying his need. “Come here and kiss my troubles away.”
    Her gaze darted down, and the whites of her eyes got bigger like a scared filly, before her shadowy silhouette swished out of his room.
    He called after her. “What’d ya expect, a hero?”
    Ignoring the pain, he stood and carefully slipped on his jeans. He caught a whiff of her lingering, sultry citrus scent as he headed for the stable.
    Â 
    Mark flipped on the light and made his way to his stallion’s stall, grabbing a brush and a bucket of oats along the way. It had been a few days since he’d checked on his horse. Lone Star nickered and tossed his head.
    â€œWhoa, there, boy. How ya been?” He ran his hand down the stallion’s flank and poured the oats into his trough. Lone Star didn’t seem to mind it was three in the morning.
    It might help to talk about it. What the hell did she know? Talking wouldn’t help. He’d had that nightmare ever since he’d ratted on his mother. And deserting his brother had only made it worse.
    Mark ran the brush across Star’s back. “We had us some great times, didn’t we, Star? For a while there, I could pretend I was somebody else.”
    He scratched the giant stallion behind the ear. “They been treating you good, boy? You lonely?” Lone Star whinnied and nudged Mark with his nose. “Yeah, me neither.” Out of habit, Mark stooped to check Star’s hooves. Searing pain shot through his leg. He stumbled forward, catching the horse around its neck for support. “Damn it to hell!”
    Lone Star trembled, but remained steady as Mark pulled himself up and rested his forehead against the horse’s neck. “I oughta sell you, boy,” he whispered. “You’re wasted on me.”
    Mark rubbed his throbbing leg as he headed for the house. Just past the barn doors he caught a whiff of…lemon. Damn it! He turned, and there she was, flattened against the barn wall like a prison escapee.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?”
    She stepped forward, clutching the front of her robe together with both hands. “I was worried about you.”
    â€œAbout me?” Women didn’t worry about Mark Malone. They either wanted money or their fifteen minutes of fame.
    â€œYou find that so hard to believe?”
    He crossed his arms. “Yeah, I do. Were you in there?” He nodded toward the barn doors.
    She nodded. “I guess we both like to visit Lone Star when we need to sort things out.”
    â€œWhat? Lady, you’ve been watching too many TV talk shows!” He spun around and walked back to the dark house, putting equal weight on his throbbing leg. He’d be damned if she’d see him limp.
    He slammed through the back door and headed straight for the bar. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, he didn’t even bother with a glass. He stopped in midstride, staring at his gold championship buckles on display. Bile rose in histhroat, and the rage seething in his veins erupted. He raked his hand across the shelf, sending the belt buckles crashing to the floor.
    Â 
    Audrey awoke with a vague sense of hopelessness. Last night’s incident with Mark weighed on her mind. She’d never forget the heart-wrenching pain in Mark’s hoarse shout.
    It was still pitch-dark when she stumbled to the kitchen to cook breakfast for what seemed like the entire U.S. Army. If she never saw a slice of raw bacon again, she’d be a happy woman. Writing the “Dear Audrey” column was beginning to seem like a dream job. It didn’t look as if she’d ever get a story here, anyway. Only propositions from drunks and unsavory ranch hands.
    Grumbling to herself, she set the table. Nine years ago, she’d dreamed of Mark whisking her off on his horse and living happily ever after.
    How pathetic.
    Over the years, the few men who had