Protecting Tricia by Pamela Tyner

that anyone would
be sniffing that particular part of her body, but it was simply a habit she had
developed when she’d been a hopeful teenager.
    She took a minute to fluff her hair, and then studied the
outcome of her work in the mirror. She ran a hand over her jeans, readjusted
the green silk shirt. They hugged her curves without being overly blatant. Satisfied
with the results, she leisurely gathered the bottles and containers from the
counter and placed them in her bag.
    She opened the door and found herself face to face with a
very agitated male who had his fist drawn back. For a full second she panicked
before she managed to rein in the feeling. This is Clint, not Matt. He’d
never hit me. I just happened to open the door as he raised his fist to bang on
it again.
    “About damn time,” Clint muttered as he lowered his arm.
    “So sorry you had to wait.” The insincerity of her tone
matched the smile she pasted on her lips.
    “I’ll just bet you are,” Clint said as he moved past her.
    After depositing the bag in the bedroom, Tricia sauntered
into the living room. Staring out the window, she absently fingered her
necklace as she considered how best to put her plan into action.
    At the sound of footsteps, she glanced over and surveyed
Clint from the tips of his boots, to his form-fitting jeans, to his gray shirt,
which did an excellent job of defining the muscles underneath. His face was
clean shaven, and even hardened with irritation like it was, there was no
denying it was appealing.
    He looked fantastic, and it had only taken him twenty
minutes, as opposed to the hour she had spent getting ready. God, how she hated
him for it.
    “Well, don’t you look nice,” she said with a smile. “Is
Candy going to be there?”
    “I imagine so.”
    Perfect. “What fun we’re going to have.”
    “We?” He lifted a brow. “I thought you weren’t coming.”
    Oh, he knew she was coming. “I changed my mind.”
    With a wave of his hand he gestured for her to precede him
to the door. “Then let’s go.”
    Once they were inside the truck, Tricia patted her chest
with her hand and exhaled an exaggerated long breath of air.
    “I had to practically run to keep up with you. You’re sure
in a hurry to get there. You must be missing Candy something awful.” She
reached over and touched the hair that brushed against the collar of his shirt.
“Your hair’s getting a little long.” Deliberately, she ran her finger lightly
down the side of his neck. “It might be time to get a haircut.”
    He glanced in her direction. “What are you doing, Tricia?”
    She shrugged and hoped to achieve a look of innocence on her
face. “Just making an observation.”
    He regarded her with a disbelieving, wary expression, then
focused his attention on the road without responding. Tricia sat back with a
small smile and enjoyed the silent ride into town.
    When Clint pulled into a dirt parking lot, Tricia
straightened in her seat and glanced around. There were several cars and a few
trucks that looked sparkling new, but they stuck out conspicuously in the midst
of the older, dirty, dented trucks which filled the majority of the lot.
    By the time Tricia finished her survey of the area, Clint
had exited the truck and was opening the passenger door for her.
    “Just a second.” She pulled a tube out of her pocket. With
the cab light now on, she flipped down the visor and took a moment to apply a
fresh coat of lipstick. Once she finished, she glanced up and saw Clint
watching her, his gaze fixed on her lips.
    “All done.” She capped the tube and stuffed it back in her
pocket.
    “Thank God,” Clint muttered.
    She slid out of the truck. “It was so sweet of you to wait
for me.”
    She pressed a kiss, quick but firm, near the corner of his
mouth. Stepping back, she examined her work, pleased to see the dark pink
outline of her lips on his face.
    Ignoring the suspicion in his eyes, she turned and led the
way to the building, Clint following