Chapter Four

C arson watched Layne flounce out of the living room, the plaid blanket slung over her shoulders swishing around what he knew to be extremely shapely calves.

Dammit, the last thing he needed to be thinking about were her legs. He'd always been a leg guy, but he was a sucker for Layne's.

As soon as she was out of his view, he scrubbed both hands over his face. He'd completed easier ops that involved terrorists. At least he didn't have a history with any of them .

When he was certain she'd shut her bedroom door, he drew out his phone and called the Black Heart Security office. An image of his family's ranch rose in his mind's eye. It looked like all the working ranches around here. His family had money—they just never flaunted it the way Layne's did.

The house was large enough to hold six kids but still modest, sided in simple wood planks that had aged over the years to a rustic gray. The fresh coat of white paint he and his brothers had slapped on every window and door updated it.

Then they had turned their attention to fixing up the barn and filling it with horses. About that time, the government approached Carson about taking on a program for wounded vets. With that grant, they built what they called the Lodge. Far larger than the family's home, it boasted thirty rooms, a medical facility and a full staff trained to help veterans heal and recover from their physical ailments as well as those of the mind.

His brother Oaks held a soft spot in his heart for the Black Heart Lodge. He spent all his free time there, talking to the guys, playing cards with them or helping out at mealtimes.

Carson had a soft spot for his brother's devotion—even though he visited the guys often, he couldn't do it every day.

Raising horses held even less appeal. After only six months of adopting the rancher role, Carson handed off the Black Heart Ranch end of the family business to his brothers and struck out with the security agency.

His thoughts ended abruptly when his brother Colt finally answered the phone. His gruff tone sounded even gruffer given the lateness of the hour. But always the night owl of the family, Colt preferred manning the office on the midnight shift.

Carson understood. After a long path learning to live with PTSD, Colt suffered from nightmares.

They all did.

But Colt didn't like people running into his bedroom to check on him. Sleeping during the day ensured that didn't happen, since they were all out on security detail, doing ranch chores, or making sure their fellow brothers-in-arms received topnotch care.

Carson didn't beat around the bush with chitchat. "Did you run the background on Layne? Any boyfriends?"

"I thought she told you that she doesn't have a boyfriend."

"Everyone lies."

"Well, she didn't. There's no evidence of her having a boyfriend in years."

That gave Carson pause. He didn't know how to feel about a beautiful woman going unloved, let alone for that long. Layne deserved to be wined, dined and sixty-nined.

He should know how much she enjoyed that position.

He shut down the meandering path his mind had taken and firmly flipped the switch to work mode. "You checked into her finances?"

"The reports just came through. No signs of financial issues."

"Disgruntled employees?" He could easily imagine someone being jealous of Layne.

"Only her father and Layne are involved in the family business. Each of them have a personal assistant, but I'm pretty sure neither are coming after her."

"What evidence do you have of that?"

His phone buzzed with a text message. He glanced at the screen to a selfie of Layne and a woman who was in several of her photos, smiling in various locales.

"Layne's assistant is happily married, and according to her social media, she's three months pregnant. She doesn't fit the stalker stereotype."

"And Mr. London's assistant?"

"His name is Charles Williams. He doesn't have any children of his own, and he loves Layne like his own daughter."

Suspicion crept in. "How do you know?"

"He left her everything in his will."

"Damn. All right." She claimed she was liked in her circles, and she really was. Not that he would ever think otherwise.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement and turned his head. Faye stood in the doorway, offering him a genuine smile that caused her face to beautifully wrinkle.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Carson. I realized that with all the excitement, you probably didn't eat dinner."

He hadn't even thought about his stomach. But his ward needed to be looked after. "Did Layne eat?"

"No, sir."

He smiled at her. "Come on, Faye. I'm not ‘mister' or ‘sir' to you. You're like family to me."

Her grin widened. "I was about to ask Layne if I can fix her some food."

"Grilled cheese," he said without hesitation. "She'll eat grilled cheese."

Faye gave a small nod. "Of course, Carson. Can I bring one for you as well?"

"That sounds perfect. Thank you."

She left the room, and he picked up where he left off with Colt on the phone.

"Grilled cheese?" his brother asked.

"Of course you heard that, smartass."

Colt chuckled.

"It was Layne's favorite food back when…"

"When you were a thing?"

Now he wasn't sure if they ever were a thing.

"That's over, Colt. Just examine every photo in her phone. If you see a person more than one time, check them out."

"Will do. Don't…uh…work too hard." Amusement trickled into Colt's tone.

He grunted, a noise that people who knew the Malones all claimed they had mastered as their own language. "You might only be five years younger than I am, but those five years of life experience mean I have superiority."

"Maybe you should talk to the therapists at the Lodge about these delusions."

Carson issued a chuckle. Colt followed with his own, and they ended the call on a brotherly note.

Layne's raised voice projected from across the house. "Faye? Is that grilled cheese I smell?"

He intercepted Faye in the kitchen, taking the tray of food from her. She offered him a wink as she relinquished the tray.

The hallway was paneled in dark wood, and no family photos graced them. Instead, expensive art was showcased with gallery lighting. Mr. London always did love a good oil painting.

Layne stood in her bedroom doorway, the glow of light behind her casting her warm brown hair with an amber sheen.

When she saw him coming with the tray, she squared her shoulders and gave that sharp little tilt of her jaw. "What's that?"

"Our supper." He walked right by her and entered her bedroom.

She rushed in after him, gawking at the tray. "It really is grilled cheese! Why would Faye make me that? She knows I don't do carbs."

He fixed his gaze on her, aware of the way hers darkened as her pupils dilated. "You know what burns a lot of carbs?"

A pink flush spread across her cheeks. "Um…"

Forget the grilled cheese. He wanted her. On this bed. Now.

He had a job to do. It wasn't fucking around with his ex.

He plucked up a triangle of sandwich. "Fear burns a lot of carbs. Eat the sandwich, Layne."

* * * * *

Layne didn't wake with the sun on her face. She rolled over and opened her eyes, eyes slit in a glare at the closed curtains. No beautiful vistas today.

Everything about this was weird. It left her feeling…unsettled.

She'd come to Golden Horizon for a break, but this was far from the retreat she was hoping for.

The deep timbre of Carson's voice broke into whatever pleasant haze she might have actually possessed before her world was completely screwed up.

She strained to hear what he said, but it came out muffled. Then she caught Faye's familiar lilting laugh. The one that made everyone smile.

Layne bit off a groan. The man was cordial to her father and warm to her housekeeper. With Layne, he acted cold and at times, almost hostile.

Though she'd only been in his company for a few hours, she needed a break from Carson too.

After a quick shower, she donned her typical country uniform of a denim skirt and a flannel shirt knotted at her navel. Slipping her arms into the worn flannel was like getting a big, warm hug—something she needed right now.

Her mind flashed with visions of Carson's muscular arms and chiseled chest. She snorted. With all that muscle the military had put on him, he probably wasn't even a little bit comfortable to hug.

She fluffed her hair over her shoulders and added her favorite set of earrings—silver horseshoes studded with diamonds, a gift from her father for her eighteenth birthday.

She reached for her sunscreen and uncapped it, prepared to squirt a dollop into her palm to apply to her face.

Then she remembered her new, very unwanted, bodyguard's rule—no going outside without him.

Since she wasn't about to ask him to escort her, she would be staying in. She placed the tube on the counter and applied a smear of lip balm instead.

Part of her wondered if she should try harder with her appearance. But this was her home and her break from the world. She could look any way she wanted to. It didn't matter what Carson thought of her.

Not that he thought of her at all.

What she needed was to get back to basics. If some creepy asshole hadn't sent her a scary photo of her own bedroom—and her ex wasn't in the house with her—what would she be doing this morning?

The answer was obvious. Talking to her assistant.

She sank to her big, comfy, oversized corner chair. When she set her palm on the arm, she felt something rough and inwardly groaned at the crumbs from her grilled cheese left behind the previous night.

Damn Carson for taking over her life. He may be trying to protect her, but he didn't have to dictate the type of sandwich she ate.

You didn't have to eat it, either.

She silenced the mental she-devil on her shoulder. When she dialed her assistant, Hannah's sweet voice rang out over the line, just as comforting as the flannel Layne wore.

"Hey, Layne. How's country life?"

How to answer? She bypassed it with a question of her own.

"Forget about me. How are you feeling ? Is your second semester treating you better than the first?"

"Oh, girl. You have no idea how much better I feel this week."

"That must mean you were able to meet with Robert this morning."

"Of course." Her tone changed from chatty to brisk businesswoman as she launched into the details of her meeting with one of their biggest clients. "He's on board with our selections for the Seattle condo. But he needs a few more days on the Phoenix estate."

"Got it."

"I just remembered—I got a shipment!"

"Ohh. Video call me and you can show me. I'm almost certain it's the pottery from Kenya."

A moment later, Hannah's face appeared on Layne's screen. She grinned at her assistant. "You're not green anymore. You're glowing."

"Thank goodness. Adam was getting really worried about my morning sickness." She set a box on the table she was sitting at in the office back in New York City. "Are you ready for this?"

"Absolutely." Without thinking, she got up and drew the drapery aside just a hint to allow some daylight into her room. At that exact moment, Carson walked by.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked right at her. Through the pane of glass, their gazes locked.

Dammit. He was going to launch into another lecture about the rule she just broke.

Unwilling to be suppressed by his grumpy moods, she arched a brow at him in challenge.

He shook his head and walked away from her window.

Only when she swung her gaze back to the video call did she realize that Hannah had seen the whole exchange.

Her big blue eyes were round. "Who. Is. That?"

She let out a trickle of air from her lungs. "That's Carson."

Her eyes widened farther. " The Carson?"

One night about a year ago, they'd shared one too many Manhattans and Layne had shared her story about Carson. Now she had more regrets than the hangover.

Taking a deep breath, she again attempted to step around the very large landmine that was her ex.

"Would you look at that box. Let's see what's inside!"

The heavy clomp of boots on the hardwood floor announced that Carson wasn't just in the house—he was headed this way.

She glanced up at the thunder of a fist knocking that rattled the door in its frame. Without waiting for her to answer, Carson threw open the door.

Outraged, she jumped up.

"We need to talk."

She felt her molars grate as she mashed them together. "Fine," she said evenly through her clenched jaw. "Give me five."

His gray eyes leveled on her for one heartbeat. Then two. By the fifth throb of that stupid organ in her chest cavity, she was losing patience.

As if he realized she was about to flip out, he retreated, closing the door behind him with more softness than she ever thought possible. Because it was so out of character, she had to question why he did it.

And if she should be worried.

Aware once more that Hannah was still on the call, she gulped.

Composed herself.

Spent a moment rearranging her features.

Then slapped a smile on.

"Back to the unboxing. I can't wait to see what's inside!"

Her assistant blinked. "That's Carson? Wow. Does he have a brother?"

"Five of them. But you're married."

She waved a hand. "Oh, I'm not interested for myself. I was just asking for…my sister."

"Right."

"Can my sister come to Wyoming? I need some papers signed. I was going to send them electronically, but I can send her in my place."

Layne laughed, and only part of it was forced. "Now's not the best time."

The door blew open again, and Carson poked his head in. "Today, Layne."

She looked at her phone screen in time to see her assistant mouth, "Go!"