Bare It All by Lori Foster

she’s scared. I want to know
why, you want to know why, and we both want to ensure that no matter what it is,
it never touches her again.”
    Reese watched as Cash rolled to his back in a patch of clover.
“All right. I’ll tell you what I know so far. But understand this, Rowdy. She’s
off-limits.”
    “To me?”
    God, he despised declaring himself. If this wasn’t so
important, he wouldn’t. “It’s nothing personal against you,” Reese clarified.
“Far as I’m concerned, she’s off-limits to every guy other than me.”
    After Rowdy finished laughing, Reese told him about the
kidnapping. They were both grim as death when they parted ways.
    * * *
    A LICE STARED OUT the passenger window, watching
the wind bend trees, the rain flood the streets. The windshield wipers beat a
frantic rhythm, and the defroster worked overtime.
    She’d been halfway to Reese’s car when the skies opened up and
sent a deluge to soak her before she could even attempt to open an umbrella.
Combing her hair now would be pointless. Already it started to curl.
    Luckily she didn’t wear makeup, or it’d be everywhere.
    She’d changed into simple, plain ballet flats and a dark print
summer dress that should have been modest and comfortable. But now wet, it kept
trying to cling to her breasts, her belly, her thighs. Chills rose on her arms
despite the warmth of the interior.
    She loved it.
    Often when out and about, she couldn’t relax. She stayed too
busy watching for threats, observing everyone and everything. She wondered how
those people could be so different from her.
    And she wondered if evil blended in with the mundane.
    Right beneath the noses of the unsuspecting public, people were
grabbed. Taken away. Mistreated. Abused.
    Forced to do things they didn’t want to do.
    Never again would she be unaware of her surroundings. She
stayed vigilant, for herself and for others.
    Right now, though, on this stormy afternoon, few people could
be seen. Even better, she was safe and sound in a car with the impressive
Detective Reese Bareden.
    Lightning seared the sky ahead of them, ramping up the downpour
from a shower to a thunderstorm.
    Feeling content, a little lazy and all too comfortable despite
the weather and her drenched appearance, she sighed. “I love storms.” She’d
always found them sexy. Peaceful. A sign of fresh renewal.
    Strung too tight, Reese muttered, “Me, too.”
    He slowed as a woman, holding a little boy’s hand, dashed
across the street. She almost lost her umbrella beneath a gust of wind. The kid
laughed as he deliberately stomped in deep puddles. The poor woman was not
amused.
    Alice watched them hurry into a restaurant. She realized she
was smiling.
    “You like children?”
    She redirected her smile at Reese. He, too, had gotten soaked
to the skin. His dark polo shirt stuck to his broad, solid shoulders and chest.
He’d pushed back his wet hair, leaving it in sexy disarray. His lashes clumped
together over his bright green eyes.
    “I love them.” What would Reese’s children look like? They’d be
tall and no doubt blond. Surely confident and happy, like their dad.
    “You don’t have any?”
    She shook off fanciful daydreams. “No, of course not.” What did
he think? That she’d abandoned a child somewhere? That she would live apart from
her child? “I’ve never been married, or even in a serious relationship. I mean,
not that serious.” Not since the kidnapping had she even looked at a man with
interest. “One day I’d like to have kids of my own, though.”
    “Boys or girls?”
    “It wouldn’t matter to me.” The skies darkened with the storm
so that it felt like early evening. Headlights danced over the rain-washed road
and reflected off the wet surfaces of signs, buildings and other cars. “I
thought men didn’t like to talk about stuff like that.”
    “Stuff like what?”
    He’d turned that back around on her, so she sought the right
words. “You know what I mean. Things so personal.