But he didn’t want to just hurt Jennifer. Brodie knew the man out there wanted to kill her.

And I won’t let that happen.

* * *

THE MCGUIRE RANCH rose before her. The gates were imposing. The house a strong, solid structure against the night.

Brodie opened her door. Offered her his hand. She started to slide down to the ground, but he caught her and lifted Jennifer up against him.

“I think we covered this,” she whispered as her hands curled around his neck. “I really am quite good at walking.” And she’d had much worse injuries over the years. The slice on her shoulder hadn’t even required stitches.

Ignoring her words, Brodie carried her into the house. He checked the security system. Then, still holding her, he took her down the hallway.

He didn’t go to the guest room.

Brodie carried her inside his room.

“Brodie?”

“The doctor said I should wake you every two hours.” He lowered her onto the bed. “This way, I can keep you close. It will be easier for me to check you here.”

She sat up quickly. The paper gown rasped over her skin. “I can stay in the other room. I don’t even have to sleep.”

He stared down at her. “You’re afraid to stay with me.”

She shook her head.

He turned away. Reached into a drawer and pulled out a T-shirt. “You want to change into this? You’ll be more comfortable.” His voice was carefully emotionless as he brought the shirt toward her.

She reached for the shirt.

His gaze slid over her. She felt that caress like a touch. I want his touch. She always did.

Her fingers curled into the fabric. “You’re going to...to turn away while I change, right?”

His lips quirked. Those sexy dimples of his almost flashed. “Why would I do that?” One dark brow lifted.

She felt heat stain her cheeks. She should really be past the blushing stage, but with him, she wasn’t. “Brodie...”

Sighing, he turned away from her, giving her the broad expanse of his back.

Jennifer fumbled and got rid of that horrible paper gown, and she slid on his soft T-shirt. She’d worn his shirt before, and, well, she liked wearing his clothes. Like the previous shirt, this one smelled of him. That rich, masculine scent. She tugged down the hem of the shirt. It came all the way to her thighs and—

“Can I turn around now?”

“Yes.” Why was her voice so shaky? She’d faced off against killers. She’d sent countless criminals to jail. She shouldn’t be nervously stuttering just because she was in Brodie McGuire’s bed.

But she was.

Get a grip, woman.

He yanked off the shirt he’d been wearing and tossed it aside. His shoes followed. As he turned toward her, Brodie’s hands went to his belt.

So did her gaze.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to turn away,” he murmured.

Her eyes snapped right back to his face. “What are you doing?”

Those dimples of his definitely flashed then. “Getting undressed so that I can get into bed with you.”

“I think that’s a bad idea.” But her words sounded husky and inviting—definitely not her plan—and her tone sure implied she thought he’d just told her the best idea ever.

His hands stilled. “I’m not going to make love to you.”

Now she was fisting her hands around the sheets. Is that how he thought of it? As making love with her? She hadn’t realized—

“Not while you’re hurt.” He kicked his jeans aside to reveal a sexy pair of boxers that rode low on his hips. “But as soon as you’re better, sweetheart, you will be mine again.”

Her gaze was back to raking over him. He had the best physique that she’d ever seen. So strong and muscled. Powerful.

He was also climbing into bed with her. Jennifer shook her head. “Davis will come home soon.” She figured the guy had to turn up sooner or later. “If I’m in here with you in the morning, he’ll think we were...together.”

Brodie laughed at that. “We have been together.”

That wasn’t what she’d meant.

“And, besides,” Brodie added as the back of his hand slid down her cheek in a brief caress, “I don’t really care what Davis thinks about the two of us. As long as he knows that he needs to keep his hands off you, I’m fine.”

He leaned over her. Jennifer stopped breathing as she stared into his eyes.

“Relax,” Brodie whispered. “I’m just turning off the light.” His fingers flicked the switch on the lamp. The room plunged into darkness.

Then he slid back to his side of the bed. Jennifer gingerly lowered herself down fully on the mattress. Despite her exhaustion, adrenaline still pumped through her. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily, so Brodie didn’t exactly have to worry about that whole waking-every-two-hours routine that the doctor had prescribed.

Her head brushed against the pillow. In the dark, she found it was easier to talk with him. “You saved me again.”

The sheets rustled. Had he turned to stare at her? He wouldn’t be able to see much of her in that sheltering darkness.

“He wanted to take me away to torture me.” Fear was there now, and it wouldn’t go away, not until they caught her stalker. “He doesn’t plan to make my death easy.”

His arm curled around her stomach. He had turned toward her in the dark. His touch made her feel safer.

“I don’t care what he has planned,” Brodie muttered. “He’s not hurting you again.”

If Brodie hadn’t heard her screams, the stalker would be hurting her right then. Instead, she was safe in Brodie’s arms. He pulled her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder. It felt...strangely right to be there with him.

“Tell me who you were...” His voice seemed to rumble all around her. “Before you became Jennifer Wesley.”

“I was lost.” That was the way she’d always thought of herself. “My parents died when I was just a kid. A drunk driver hit them.” And they’d just been...gone. “I was ten, angry with the world and hurting all the time.” The social workers had said she was acting out each time she got in trouble. They’d told her that if she wanted a real family, she had to show how good she could be.

But she’d already had a real family. A family that had been stolen from her.

“I bounced around the foster system for a while. Back then, I had a rule about getting close to people.”

“A rule?”

“Yes. The rule was...never get close.” That was the same rule she’d lived by when she worked for the government. And that rule had slowly become a way of life for her.

Never get close. Because when people got too close, you became vulnerable. You needed them, and you...you hurt when they left.

There were only two people who’d ever made Jennifer break her rule. Slowly, over time, she’d softened toward Nate. Maybe she’d even started to see him as the father she’d lost.

And...

She’d let Brodie get close. So very close.

“Who were you back then? Tell me your name.”

Her breath slid out on a soft sigh. “Jennifer Belmont. Jenny.” Little Jenny Belmont from Florence, Idaho. “No one really knew me there.” Sometimes, she’d felt invisible in that town. “So when I vanished and became someone else... Well, there wasn’t exactly anyone around to care.” That was precisely why the US government had recruited her for the job.

Too late, she’d learned that she was one of the expendable ones. If she’d died on one of the missions, if she’d been killed on foreign land, then there would have been no outcry from desperate family members and friends. There would have been...nothing.

And that was why Brodie’s rescue had surprised her so much. She’d given up hope by the time he came for her.

Then he’d brought that hope right back to her.

“What did Jenny Belmont like to do?”

Had she just felt him press a kiss to her temple? She wasn’t sure. “She...liked to read, a lot.” Because that had been her escape. “She rode horses when she could. When she saved up enough money to go for a ride at the local stables.” She’d felt so free when she raced on those horses. “Her mother had loved horses, so she liked them, too. It made her feel close to—”