Her gaze flickered then with a hint of uncertainty. How he’d managed to knock her off guard, he wasn’t certain, but he’d love to keep her there for a while.

“I’m pissed because some drunk asshole tried to run me down in the middle of town and nearly killed both of us,” she retorted. “I want to go home, take a hot bath and some aspirins, and try like hell to forget it happened.”

He almost laughed at the absurdity that she’d just spilled from those pretty lips. Like hell. She wanted to figure out if it was time to run yet.

Jazz shook his head, buckled her seat belt, then stepped back and closed the door before loping to the driver’s side.

“I’m heading to my place,” he muttered as he passed Slade.

“I’ll meet you there.” Nodding, Slade moved around the back of the truck. Within seconds they were both pulling from the parking lot and heading out of town.

“Jazz, I really don’t want to go to your house,” she stated as she realized they were heading in the opposite direction of her house.

“Sweetheart, right now, I really don’t give a damn,” he warned her. “I nearly watched you die in front of my eyes and that’s going to take me a minute to get over. You can just suffer and put up with my company until I can get a handle on it.”

It was going to take far more than a minute to do that. He didn’t think he’d ever felt fear like he’d felt it as he’d watched that car bearing down on her.

“You want to tell me why someone decided to run you down in the middle of town?” he asked, certain he knew what her response was going to be.

Turning his head, he caught the telltale stiffening of her body.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorted a second later, her expression actually confused. “It must have been a drunk or something. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake. Who doesn’t like kindergarten teachers?”

God bless her heart, he was going to spank her for that one. A lie, wrapped in deception and practicing deceit. And she did it with such incredible sincerity. He’d known she’d pull something like this.

“Whoever was in that car,” he countered instantly. “That was no drunk, so don’t take me for a damned fool. He knew what he was doing and he knew who he was trying to do it to. So why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”

He tried to keep from raising his voice. He wasn’t a man who yelled often, especially at women. A loud man was too intimidating, his foster father Toby Benning had told him more than once. A nice even tone would get more results.

Well, he wasn’t getting any results.

“And you think I know what’s going on.” She was trying to deceive him with her voice, her eyes, her very expression.

Damn her, she was lying to him with such convincing sincerity that he found himself wanting to believe her. Unfortunately, he hadn’t believed in fairy tales for a lot of years. He wasn’t going to start now.

“Sweetheart, you and I are going to start butting heads here soon if you can’t be honest with me.” It was the most sincere warning he could give her, because at the rate she was lying to him, he was going to be spanking her before nightfall.

“Jazz, what reason do I have not to be honest with you? How would I know who was driving that car or what they were trying to do?” she exclaimed as she pushed her fingers through her hair and avoided looking him in the eye as she tried to avoid a bald-faced lie.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. It would probably be a really bad idea to pull over to the side of the room and spank that pretty butt.

Still, lying to Jazz was a very bad idea.

CHAPTER 6

“When we enter the house be prepared.” The heavy note of warning in Jazz’s voice had Kenni turning to him, wariness stiffening her body even more than the near miss in town already had.

“For what?”

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as a grimace contorted his face for just a moment.

“I mentioned the puppies a few weeks ago, remember?” The rueful amusement she saw in his face now had her curiosity aroused despite her best intentions.

“I remember,” she answered, wondering what puppies could have to do with any of this.

“They’re Rottweiler puppies.” He almost grinned.

She could only roll her eyes. “Well, Jazz, I didn’t peg you for the Pomeranian type,” she assured him mockingly. “But I’m still not certain why Rottweiler puppies come with a warning.”

“They’re six-week-old rotties with more energy than a dozen Tasmanian devils,” he said then. “The second you step into the house they’re going to break away from their sire and dam and come after you like a herd of mini elephants. They love attention. Three of them especially love female attention. And they don’t take orders real well just yet.”

She remembered when the puppies were born, Jessie had been nuts wanting to claim one and Jazz had kept putting her off.

“Jessie hasn’t gotten one yet?” she asked as he made the turn onto the gravel road leading to his house about half a mile into a valley.

“They’re not weaned yet.” The hasty, obviously practiced excuse would have been amusing if not for the fact that someone had just tried to kill her.

“Has Jessie picked out which one she wants yet?” she asked then, pushing the subject. Anything to take her mind off the memory of that car bearing down on her.

Blowing out a hard breath, Jazz reached back and rubbed at the back of his neck for a second before returning his hand to the steering wheel and muttering, “Not yet.”

“Has she seen them yet?”

“Not in a few weeks.” He frowned. “I’ve been busy.”

He was lying. From Jessie’s bitching she already knew Jazz had no intention of giving up one of those babies.

“You’ve been possessive,” she corrected him absently as she watched the forested land outside the pickup. “What are you going to do to put her off now?”

Slade and Jessie were right behind them and if Kenni knew her friend then she knew Jessie would be on those puppies so fast it would make Jazz’s head spin.

“I’m going to have to talk to Slade,” he breathed out, the sound filled with resignation. “He’ll tell her.”

Kenni shook her head. “We’re talking about Jessie’s husband, Slade. Right?” she retorted. “Slade ain’t going to tell her crap if it’s going to upset her right now, Jazz. Stop fooling yourself.”

His lips pursed in a display of male uncertainty. Seeing Jazz in the least bit uncertain was surprising.

“When I’m ready to let one go, then she can have first pick.” He shrugged. “I’m not ready yet.”

“You’ll never be ready.” She was certain of that.

“So?” That one word said it all. He simply wasn’t going to worry about it. They were his puppies and he wasn’t giving one away.

“Tell her Essie would be upset if you let one go right now,” she suggested as she turned back from her perusal of the woods surrounding the truck. “That should help.”

As she spoke the surrounding forests and mountain parted to reveal the valley and Jazz’s two-story brick-and-wood home. The sprawling farmhouse was gorgeous. Red brick and red wood siding, green tin roof and a wide wraparound front porch.

The valley spread out below the house, a pond so large it was almost a small lake. A dock extended out into it with a canoe tied up to it. On the bank a covered, enclosed gazebo sat.

Green, green grass grew like a lush summer carpet, inviting bare feet and giggling children, summer cookouts and family reunions.

It took a minute to see what she was looking at, though, and when she did, it was all she could do to breathe. She hadn’t been to Jazz’s place since returning to Loudoun. But she’d been here when she was younger with one of her brothers when he’d stopped to talk to Jazz. The house hadn’t been here then, just a single-story home that looked more like a shack. The valley had been here, though, and the pond.