Colters' Woman (38 page)
“You think that’s all he cares about?” Taggert asked. “He’s your manager, but that doesn’t mean he’s a complete mercenary asshole. He’s worried sick over you. We all are.”
“Tagg, enough,” Greer warned.
Taggert threw up one hand and turned away, his entire body simmering with frustration. Then he turned back around and pinned her with the force of his stare. Warm, liquid chocolate. She’d always loved his eyes. They made his already dark looks even darker, but she’d never been afraid of him. He’d always been her Tagg, and she’d always loved him.
“Come here, damn it,” he said gruffly.
She only hesitated a moment before she walked into his arms. He hugged her fiercely, stealing her breath with the force of his grip. But God, for the first time in a year, she felt safe.
His breath whispered roughly over her hair, her only signal of the turmoil that rolled beneath his tough exterior.
“Goddamn it, Emmy, what were you thinking?”
She couldn’t answer. The words were lodged in her throat, so thick and swollen she feared choking. She concentrated on breathing, taking in his solid strength and the crisp, clean smell of his shirt. He still used the same detergent, the same plain deodorant. No frills, no aftershave, no cologne.
He pried her away from him, holding her shoulders as he stared down at her.
“You’re coming home with us.”
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