“How can you be so sure?” Durham asked.

“She’s sleeping with the bastard,” Galen said, pointing at her.

“I am not!” She glared at all the men, daring them to utter another word.

“That’s enough,” Ben growled. Emma flinched when her shawl dropped over her shoulders, then she was suddenly imprisoned between iron-hard arms and an unmovable granite chest. “What you think, Simms, doesn’t mean jack shit,” Ben continued. “But she is right about one thing. Whoever blew up that dam has gotten away with it, and I intend to find him. You can help me or you can stay the hell out of my way—I really don’t give a damn. But understand that your hostility is directed at me. Not Emma, and not Michael.”

Stark, absolute silence followed.

“What makes you think you can find him after sixteen years, when the FBI couldn’t?” John LeBlanc finally asked.

“I’m more motivated,” Ben said.

“Whoever blew up that dam is long gone,” Wayne said, his eyes narrowing. “Better you just take your son and leave.”

“I have no intention of leaving.”

Ben’s anger was palpable, vibrating through Emma’s entire body. She walked out of his arms and back to their table, where she opened the cooler and started repacking.

“We’re not leaving,” Ben said, coming up beside her.

She reached for her coat. “You’re welcome to stay, but I’m going home.”

A nasty word rumbled across the table as Ben picked up her coat and held it up for her.

“We are not going home,” he told her through gritted teeth. He picked up the cooler, put his hand at her back, and ushered her past the stunned, staring faces of people who were supposed to be her friends. Her head held high, Emma mentally steeled herself for another scorching lecture.

But she understood male posturing. As she did with Mikey, she would simply smile and nod at Ben, swear she would act more wisely, then go on doing whatever she had to in order to keep the peace.

Ben placed the cooler inside the Suburban, slammed the door shut, then turned. Emma took a cautious step back. He looked madder than Mikey ever got, and far more intimidating than her father ever had.

“Don’t ever step between me and danger again, Emma. There is a fine line between bravery and recklessness, and you crossed it tonight. Poulin and Simms were ready to explode, and neither man cared that you were in the middle.” His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Contrary to what you think, you’re not ten feet tall and bulletproof. You could have gotten hurt.”

“So could a lot of innocent people. I stopped a brawl from breaking out.”

“Stepping between angry men is never smart. It was sheer luck tonight that they backed down.”

She frowned. “There wasn’t an ounce of luck involved. I know these people. Durham wouldn’t have let anything happen to me.”

“I can fight my own battles.”

“You weren’t doing a very good job of it when I first found you.”

He hauled her up against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like a vise, and Emma felt his chest expand as he blew out a sigh.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Emma. I’ve finally been given a gift from God, but I will be too insane to enjoy it.” He tugged her head back, lifting her face to look at him, pulling at her hair until it fell down her back. “I may lose a few of the battles, but I willwin this war, Emma Jean. And there can’t be two generals on the field.”

“I wasn’t trying to protect you; I just didn’t want any trouble. And I figured they would listen to me,” she quickly added when he took a deep breath to scold her again.

He sighed instead. “The point I’m trying to drive into that stubborn little head of yours is that you could have gotten hurt tonight.”

She shot him a sudden smile. “Is your ego strong enough to go back inside and let me take off my shawl for the rest of the dance?”

Sounding more like a mountain lion than a man, he growled deep in his chest as his mouth descended on hers. He was not gentle and she didn’t expect him to be. Anger and fear and the threat of violence often turned into passion for men, especially when the object of their frustration was within reach. And she reveled in it.

It appeared he might really like her.

And damn if she wasn’t liking him back.

Emma wrapped her arms around his neck, yielding against him as she coaxed a different response. Slowly, almost reluctantly, his arms loosened until she could breathe again, and his grip relaxed into a caress.

He sighed into her mouth as he slid his hand down to cup her bottom. And again she felt the evidence of his desire.

There was a fire slowly kindling in her as she let him lift her closer still, allowing her to wage her own assault. She explored the texture of his mouth, his hair beneath her hands, his heat that radiated clear through her coat. Even his smell enveloped her. He tasted of beer and delicious male essence, and Emma soon became drunk on him.

He broke away, sucking in a shaky breath. Every muscle she was clinging to felt like granite. Her head was spinning and everything had gone black except for the flashes of light swirling in her head.

“Open your eyes, Em.”

That helped. Until she looked up at his face. She got dizzy again when her gaze locked on his, and she had to dig her fingers into his jacket to steady herself.

“If I take you home now, I’m going to lock us both in your bedroom. Then I’m going to strip off that dress and make love to you for two days straight.”

How classic. Give a man a kiss, and he starts talking about bed. “Do I have another option?”

“We can walk across the street to the diner, and I’ll buy you a meal first.”

To fortify her for their lovemaking? How thoughtful.

But she wasn’t ready to give her passion, to experience sexual bliss with the man she had loved since adolescence. What good would come of taking him into her bed and body when he intended to walk out of her life in two months with her nephew?

“I’m about to take you on the hood of this truck, if you don’t decide soon.”

Emma could feel the tension humming through him. And he thought she had been in danger at the dance?

“Dinner.”

He looked momentarily confused, then his face darkened. Suddenly he released her, grabbed her hand, and started pulling her across the street.

Emma stifled a snort. Undentable ego, hah! She smiled, hoping the diner was warm and toasty, because she intended to take off her shawl to eat.

Chapter Eleven

T he little witch hadtaken off her shawl in the diner. Ben shook his head as he escorted his date back to his truck. She had stuffed herself with potatoes and coleslaw and a hamburger that would have choked a horse. Then she’d followed everything with a monstrous dessert that had far more icing than cake.

Hehadn’t been able to swallow a thing.

Her coat was now buttoned up to her chin, thank God. Hopefully he would find the strength to take her home and leave her at her door.

That bright red dress was only slightly higher in the front than the back. And she was wearing a long string of pearls that nicely teased the top curve of her breasts.

Stunning breasts—full and soft—and she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra.

“A cold front’s moved in,” she said, her breath fogging in the chilly air.

Cold front? He was hotter than a teenager in a whorehouse with a hundred-dollar bill.

“The dance is still going strong. You want to go back in?” he asked, stopping beside his truck.

“No. I think we should call it a night.”

Something in her voice sounded odd—almost like fear. Emma Sands, the shotgun-carrying, night-flying spitfire, was afraid. But not of him—not exactly.