Stacey Joy Netzel Boxed Set (34 page)

“Oh my God, who are they?” she
whispered.

“
Carabinieri
.”

Even the name sounded scary. Instinctively
she cast Trent in the role of protector and leaned closer. “Are
they bad?”

“Italian military police.”

He flicked on his right turn signal and
downshifted to pull over in front of their vehicle with a few short
jerks. Halli sat up straighter at the word
police
. Thoughts
of protection quickly transferred from Trent to the armed military
men.

“It looks like it’s just a random
checkpoint,” Trent added. The tightening of his fingers on the
steering wheel and flexing of his forearm muscles belied the casual
statement. “You keep quiet, I’ll handle this.”

Unable to believe her luck, she glanced
behind at the two men approaching, then whirled around and reached
for the door handle. Trent’s hand encircled her wrist before she
could open the door.

“I said I’ll handle it,” he warned in a low,
controlled tone.

“Let me go or I’ll scream.”

She pulled against his hold, but his grip
tightened. “Don’t do this, for both our sakes.”

An unexpected vulnerability in his voice
made her pause. He removed the mirrored glasses and their gazes
locked for a timeless moment. Her breath caught as she stared into
the beautiful hazel eyes that made women’s hearts beat madly all
around the world.

Darn if they didn’t have the same affect on
hers.

The voices of the two officers reached her
ears. She pulled again and this time Trent let go. She reached for
the handle once more, but her hand wavered.

No
. She would not be sucked in like a
besotted fool.

“Halli. Please.”

The husky, desperation-tinged entreaty hit
its mark.
Darn him
.

But, then again, he didn’t know her. He
couldn’t know she found it impossible to say no when someone
pleaded with such raw, naked honesty. Could it be he was telling
the truth and she should trust him? Having been conned by her own
parents growing up, she was never quite sure when to trust her
instincts.

Yet...those had been real bullets whizzing
past her ear as he sped through the narrow streets of Lenno like a
maniac. The three holes in his windshield proved that. Did they
also prove that he probably
had
saved her life?

She glanced back over her shoulder. The
officer with the gun stood back a few feet, weapon not quite
raised, but ready none-the-less. The one with the paddle stopped
next to the driver’s side of the convertible, one hand on the side
arm at his waist.

“
D
ocumenti
, per favore
.”

Halli met Trent’s gaze once more. The plea
in his voice reflected in his expression. She gave a silent sigh
and released the handle to sit back in her seat. A flash of relief
darkened Trent’s eyes before he removed his cap and turned a smile
to the officers.

“
Si, si
, I got it right here.”

The first officer’s eyes widened and he let
loose an excited stream of Italian. The second relaxed his hold on
his gun and stepped forward with a big smile. Halli caught
Trent
Tomlin
and
Shain West
. Obviously, they were familiar
with the movie star. She watched Trent pump each man’s hand with an
aw-shucks grin. When the officer holding the big gun beamed at her,
she thought about her similar reaction not that long ago. She
cringed inside even as she smiled back at the man.

Had she been this star-struck?

She’d stuttered and blushed like a virgin
teenager. Yeah, she’d been pathetic.

Squaring her shoulders, she decided it
didn’t matter. Now that she’d gotten to know him a little, she was
over his celebrity status. Humiliation firmly set aside, she
focused on the conversation between the three men.

Trent Tomlin really was one hell of an
actor. He spoke a combination of English and Italian, just enough,
apparently, to bond nice and tight, so that when the paddle officer
finally turned his attention to the bullet holes in the windshield,
Trent laughed it off with a grimace.

“There was a goof up—
un spaglio
—at
the movie set.
Domani,
they will change the glass
.
”

“
Domani
?”

“
Si
, tomorrow,
domani.
”

The other officer pointed to the rear of the
car and asked another question. Trent nodded and spouted more words
she didn’t understand. When the officer looked at her again, she
kept smiling, not sure what else to do.

One guy winked at Trent and they shared a
laugh before he extended a small notebook and a pen. Halli got the
feeling she should be insulted, but not a word had been spoken.
Trent flipped to the back of the book and signed one piece of paper
and the cardboard with a flourish. After a couple slaps on the
shoulder and more handshakes, the officers returned to their
vehicle.

Halli glanced at Trent, expecting to see a
triumphant grin for his success in fooling the men. The act
certainly had been impressive. Instead, he leaned his head back,
eyes closed, no smugness to be found. The misery etched in his
features made her heart skip an empathetic beat.

Before she could do more than blink, he blew
out a deep breath, straightened and shifted the convertible into
gear. She choked down any sympathy, grimly reminded by his hands
fisted on the wheel and his now inscrutable expression that while
he may be known around the world, he was still a stranger.

One very capable of deception.

He donned the hat and glasses once more,
effectively shutting her out. The wind whipped her hair in her face
as he accelerated and she raised a hand to brush strands from her
eyes. Other than a brief glance to her side of the car, he kept his
gaze trained straight ahead, his jaw tight, face blank.

Unease rippled through her. The ground
alongside the convertible sped by at a dizzying rate and she cursed
the stupidity that had convinced her to trust her unreliable
instincts.

“So, what now?” she asked over the rush of
wind.

“Now we switch cars at my house, find a
battery, and see if you caught a murder on that video,
sweetheart.”

~~~

Buy LOST IN ITALY at
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GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY

by

Donna Marie Rogers

first chapter sneak peek

(back to top)

~~~

“
Deliciously sweet…with plenty of heat
!” ~ Norah Wilson, New Voice in Romance award-winning
author

James McMillan
is a third generation owner of the most
prosperous horse ranch in Golden, Colorado. When a gorgeous little
filly shows up at his door waving what she claims is the deed to
half his ranch, James tries to send her packing. But the document
is authentic, according to his lawyer: James’ brother, Reese, sold
the little opportunist his half of the Double M during a poker game
in Atlantic City. So not only must James find a way to buy those
shares back, he needs to fight his growing attraction to his
luscious new business partner—who turns out to be a lot more than
just a pretty face.

Angela
Roberts
, having been on her own since she
was a teenager, has never wanted anything more than the security of
a real home. Her dreams come true when the chance to own half of a
Colorado horse ranch falls into her lap. If Reese McMillan is too
blind to appreciate what he has, that's his loss. Only she hadn't
counted on the hostile reception she receives from his brother.
Surly as a bear, James McMillan is also much too handsome for her
peace of mind. Refusing to be intimidated, Angela sets out to win
him over by proving she has what it takes to help him run the
ranch—and ends up losing her heart to both.

~~~

“I’m telling you I bought it fair and
square. This deed proves it.”

James McMillan glared down at the crazy
woman waving a document under his nose. So his fool baby brother
had finally done it—he’d gambled away his half of the ranch. James’
biggest fear had come true, and she barely reached his
shoulder.

He blew out a silent breath and thumbed his
Stetson back. “Look, Miss...?”

“Roberts. Angela Roberts.”

“It’ll take me a few days to raise the funds
to buy it back. In the meantime, there are several hotels in
downtown Golden—”

“Sorry, Cowboy, but you’re not getting rid
of me that easily. I’m staying right here at the Double M. Reese
said—”

“Reese is an idiot, and I don’t give a damn
what he said. I’ll be dipped if some gold-digging opportunist is
gonna set one foot inside the home my great-grandparents built with
their own hands. Now, I’ll pay for your hotel room if you can’t
afford one, but either way, you’re leaving.”

She huffed out a sigh of frustration and
crossed her arms over her ample chest. Big blue eyes clear as the
Colorado sky gazed up at him, and for a brief moment, James became
lost in them. He gave himself a mental shake, ignoring her full
pouty lips and shiny auburn hair, which hung in loose waves down to
her waist. Lord, did he love long hair on a woman.

Damn you, Reese.

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. I own
half this ranch, whether you like it or not. And if you insist on
making me leave, I promise you I’ll be back with the sheriff.”

Great. Just freakin’ great. Sheriff Martin
would pounce like a mountain lion on a chance to make James
miserable. And if she got that vindictive old cuss involved, the
story of Reese’s stupidity would be all over town by nightfall.

His frustration must have shown on his face
because a knowing smile curved those luscious lips. James propped
his hands on his hips in defeat and took a step back. “Fine. You
wanna play house, lady, be my guest. Just don’t get too
comfortable.”

With a toss of her head, she picked up her
suitcase, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor of the foyer
as she strode past him. It took all James’ self-control not to give
her denim-clad ass a swat as she passed by.

* * *

Angela gazed around the surprisingly modern
log ranch house, nearly overcome by emotion. Her heart swelled with
hope as she took in the vaulted ceiling, large stone fireplace, and
overall rustic charm. So beautiful...and by being in the right
place at the right time she was now half-owner. Reese had said the
place was nothing special. Big brother was right about one thing;
Reese was an idiot.

She turned to face Mr. Tall, Dark, and
Incredibly Handsome, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity. “I’ve
never seen a more beautiful home. Reese made it sound...well, I
didn’t know what to expect.”

“Reese always preferred bright lights and
the big city over the hard work of running a horse ranch.”

She met his gaze. “I can’t imagine why. I’d
have done anything to get out of the city.”

The hostility in those whiskey-brown eyes
returned. “Is that a confession?”

Angela set her suitcase on the foyer. “You
can think whatever you want, Cowboy. The fact is, Reese was about
to put his half of this place up as collateral with some high
rollers who, trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted showing up on your
doorstep. I had a pretty decent nest-egg saved, so I offered to buy
it outright. He got more than he would’ve as a bet, and I got a
ticket out of the city.”

“And how did you happen to be at this ‘high
rollers’ card game?”

She understood the resentment and anger that
laced his words. Hell, she still couldn’t believe Reese had nearly
put up his half of this gorgeous paradise to match a fifty-thousand
dollar bet, even if the pot had been worth twenty times that. And
big brother may not think so now, but Angela was most definitely
the lesser of two evils. She could only imagine the look on his
face had Vinnie the Butcher showed up at the door with his goons.
“I was the dealer.”

He lifted his Stetson and raked his hand
through thick, dark brown curls. Angela swallowed the urge to sigh
like an infatuated schoolgirl. Reese was a hottie in a dimples and
suave charm sort of way, but big brother was easily the
best-looking man she’d ever seen. She much preferred his brooding
sexuality to Reese’s boyish charisma.

“Come on, I’ll show you to a guest room.” He
picked up her suitcase and headed toward the winding staircase that
led to the second floor. Angela decided to keep her trap shut about
the ‘guest room’ dig. No sense pressing her luck. At least she was
in the door.

She followed him upstairs to the last room
on the left. When he swung open the door, she sucked in a breath.
The room was stunning—and huge—ten times nicer than anything she’d
ever imagined. A king-sized sleigh bed sat against the far wall,
the rich burgundy bedding and matching curtains looked like they
belonged in a queen’s room. The dark oak mirrored dresser, chest,
and armchair all appeared to be antique.

He set her suitcase down and glanced around
the room, as if lost in memories. “Pretty, ain’t it? Belonged to my
grandmother. She passed last year.”

Before Angela could process that bit of
news, he strode to the door and said over his shoulder, “Supper’ll
be served in about half an hour. If you wanna eat, don’t be
late.”

She winced when the door slammed shut behind
him. Okay, so he had reason to be upset—he’d just lost half of his
ranch to a stranger. And since he didn’t know her from Eve she
could let the ‘gold-digging opportunist’ comment slide, too. But
dammit, she was a hard worker, willing to do anything necessary to
prove she belonged here. If he’d give her half a chance, she could
win him over no problem. She’d worked two and three jobs at a time
since she was fifteen years old; no one who knew her would ever
accuse her of being lazy. And hell, at least she was here, which
was a lot more than could be said about his brother.