Truman: Texas Rascals Book Seven by Lori Wilde

Author:Lori Wilde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epiphany Orchards Press

Where was Katie? Truman checked his watch for the thirteenth time. Over an hour had passed since she’d gone off on her own, and it was after midnight.

He sat up on the couch. It was impossible trying to sleep while she was roaming around by herself. What if something happened to her? What if she’d played detective on her own and gotten herself into a jam? He wouldn’t put it past her.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and reached for his shoes tucked under the edge of the couch. She was probably just having a drink at the bar. But instead of calming him, that spiked his apprehension.

A beautiful woman like Katie alone in a bar? Easy pickings for hungry sharks. Her cocky self-confidence barely cloaked a naïve streak a mile wide.

He pictured some suave, smooth, oily type coming on to her with a cunning pickup line. Katie would smile and flash those baby blues, never realizing what she was getting herself into. He thought of Paul Smith, and his stomach soured.

That unwanted vision launched Truman off the couch and propelled him across the floor with untied shoelaces. He didn’t have time to tie his shoes, not when sweet innocent Katie was about to fall into the arms of some predatory male.

Sprinting down the hall, Truman tried to stamp out the urgency pushing against his chest. He had the oddest feeling that Katie was in trouble.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered, jabbing the elevator button repeatedly.

Hands on hips, he tapped his toe. Still no elevator. He punched the button again, swearing under his breath. Finally, unable to bear the wait, he barreled through the door marked: Stairs.

He took the steps two at a time, his shoelaces slapping against the cement. Just when he realized he’d better stop to tie the laces, he tripped and went tumbling headlong down a whole flight.

Oof!

Truman landed on his backside, and the air left his body hard.

Great going, West.

He sat there a moment, his back against the wall, and caught his breath. Then he tied his shoelaces. This wasn’t smart. Not smart at all. What had he been thinking? Where was he going? He didn’t know where Katie was. He’d just been following the adrenaline surging through his gut, driving him forward, urging him to find her at all costs.

Not smart.

He didn’t act imprudently.

At least not on the job.

He was a good detective. Level-headed, serious, with a firm grasp on his emotions. Usually.

So, what was different about this assignment?

Truman knew the answer, and it scared him.

Katie Prentiss.

She was the difference. She scrambled his head with that lovely smile and saucy tongue.

He leaped to his feet and started off again, slower this time. He needed a cover story if he ran across Smith or Tandy or the red-haired woman. Although he still wasn’t certain she was in cahoots with the two men.

The cover story was easy. He and Katie had a tiff. She was reluctant to spend money on the modeling agency while he believed it was money well spent.

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