Fearless: Complicated Creatures Part Three (80 page)

*

September—Friday, Late Afternoon

Memorial Student Center, Texas A&M

S A M A N T H A

“Honestly, I was
just fiddling with time-lapse techniques. The storm rolled in, and I figured I might get very lucky catching a lightning bolt,” Wes explained to the reporter as Sam listened. His striking, golden eyes caught and held hers. “But I captured a completely different kind of lightning altogether,” Wes finished with a wicked grin.

Samantha’s breath hitched as the reporter glanced at her. “So you’re the
‘Unnamed Muse’
Wes named the photograph for?”

“Umm… I suppose I am.” Sam shifted on the sofa, reddening at the sudden attention. “I didn’t realize the photo existed until a few moments ago—much less that it had won an award.”

In the brief time she’d been sitting there, Sam could have sworn she’d fallen down some sort of rabbit hole. She’d gone from being anxious to see her family to being confronted with a guy who made her feel so tongue-tied and stupid, it was a wonder she could answer the reporter’s question at all.
What the hell was wrong with her?

The reporter returned to Wes. “So, you two aren’t together?” she asked, her question clearly targeted at a different kind of information gathering.

Samantha pressed her lips together as she considered the reporter. She gauged the woman to be in her mid-twenties, clearly an up-and-comer, wearing a pencil-thin skirt and a silky blouse that was opened just a single button down from appropriate. The reporter leaned toward Wes, making her interest apparent, her behavior a hair’s breadth short of outright flirtation.

Wes sat back against the sofa, legs crossed casually, his expression genial, and his answers just the right amount of modest. But Sam wasn’t buying that b.s.—not for one moment. She’d only just met him, but Sam knew that Wesley Elliott had charisma to burn, magnetism coming off of him like heat. It was impossible to overlook or ignore him. And he knew it too. Sam didn’t know if she liked that about him or if it turned her off, but she watched with unwilling fascination as he turned toward her again, picking up her hand and interlacing their fingers like he’d been doing just that for years—as if he had
every right
to do it. A frisson of awareness flowed like an undercurrent between them, followed by the sound of alarm bells.

Wes Elliott wasn’t just trouble. He was an alluring, seductive operator who could—and probably
had
—gotten everything he ever wanted, women included. He was unapologetically, head-snappingly handsome despite being a little rough around the edges. He reminded her a little of the good-looking cowboys her Uncle Grant had occasionally employed during the busier seasons—charming rascals who were oftentimes more trouble than they were worth—the kinds of guys who never stayed around when the best of the action was through, always looking for the next thing.

“We only just met,” Wes told the reporter as he smiled at Sam. “But I’m hoping to win this one over,” he added in a confiding tone. “She’s my muse, after all. And a real thunderbolt.” Wes squeezed her hand.

“So what’s this thunderbolt’s name?” the reporter asked, annoyance flashing briefly before her expression smoothed. She stared Sam down with the eyes of a woman unused to not getting a man’s undivided attention.

“I’d rather not say,” Sam answered quickly, cutting Wes off at the pass. “I’m not interested in any additional attention, and remaining unnamed is my preference. Now if you don’t mind, I actually need to excuse myself,” she finished, pulling her hand from Wes’s grip. “Congratulations again on the win. It was nice meeting you, Wesley Elliott.”

Sam stood quickly, but Wes was faster.

“Where are you going?” he asked, snagging her elbow as she turned to go.

“I haven’t seen my brother in a few weeks,” Sam said in a low voice, so the reporter couldn’t hear. “I really want to spend some time with him before he has to leave. We’ve only got a few hours.” She met Wes’s eyes. “And I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d appreciate it if you would stay here and talk to this reporter. I know my dad invited you but—”

“You think I’m going to let you leave just after I finally met you?” Wes asked, incredulous.

The reporter watched on in obvious interest.

“Look. I apologize if you received some mixed signals, but I’m not looking to get involved with anyone—”

“Are we talking about a barbeque or an arranged marriage here?”

“We’re talking about neither,” Sam answered quickly. “Please don’t let me keep you.” She pulled away, moving backward in a quick two-step even as Wes advanced.

“You’re not keeping me,” Wes replied, slipping his hand around the small of her waist as he drew her toward him. “Not yet, anyway,” he murmured, close to her ear.

Sam breathed his scent in, imagining for a split second that his skin would taste a little spicy if she touched her lips to it—her eyes popped open.
Holy shit
.

Wesley Elliott was bold as brass and astonishingly provocative without even really trying. Sam might not be very experienced, but she knew better than to play with fire. And Wes burned bright. Bright and hot.
Too hot.

Sam snapped back, eyes wide as she stared at him with a mixture of embarrassment and self-recrimination.

“I have to go,” she insisted.

His amber eyes glittered. “I’ll find you again, Samantha Wyatt,” he murmured, releasing her gently.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” she told him honestly.

“And why’s that?” he asked, his slow smile utterly disarming.

“Like I said, I’m not looking for anything—”

Wes leaned toward her. “Good thing you’re not the one who will be doing the looking.” He glanced over her shoulder to where her father and brother were waiting. “Send your dad my regards. Tell him I got tied up. Wouldn’t want him to think I’m standing him up, after all. I’d like to stay on his good side while I’m chasing after his daughter.”

“You’re either deaf or you’ve got a big set of balls, Wesley Elliott,” she replied tartly.

“Probably a bit of both,” he admitted with an amused expression. “My mama always said I had selective hearing. And as for the other thing… Well, guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Dear Lord.
Sam flushed. “
That’s
my cue to go.”

The reporter tapped Wes on the shoulder. “Are we continuing with this interview, Wes, or should I move on?”

“He’s all yours,” Sam replied, neatly stepping away.

She didn’t look back as she left him, though she could have sworn she heard his soft chuckle.

Corporate Runaway. Novelist. Wanderer. Bourbon Drinker.

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This was a difficult novel to start and to finish because it’s hard to say goodbye to these characters and finish a series that’s dominated my life for the past three years.

Special Thanks
to the tireless efforts, brutal feedback and constant support of my editing team: Brenda Errichiello and Dave Bruce. None, and I mean
none
, of stories wouldn’t have come together without your patience, talent and incredible eye for storytelling.

Thank you to Tara Carberry and my agent, Kim Whalen at Trident Media for believing in my work enough to help me kick some doors down to get Samantha’s story told around the world.

And last but
definitely not least
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Thank you
to super-fans like Sarah, Mary, Claudia, Veronica, Brenda, Tina, Denise and the rest of the Lawless Crew for their tremendous support and passion for this series! This book—
well, honestly, ALL the books
—are for you!

XO,

Alexi.

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