CHAPTER SEVEN

I T HAD TAKEN C AIN YEARS TO PERFECT THE KIND OF SELF-CONTROL IT had taken not to wrap his hands around the biker's thick neck and squeeze the life out of him. The thought of what Ryder planned to do to Jenny had sent him into a blinding rage.

Even in his bad-boy days, he'd been protective of women. Maybe it was something his grandmother had instilled in him, or maybe it was just part of his DNA. Whatever the reason, he felt even more protective when it came to Jenny Spencer. She was a foot shorter than Cain, a foot shorter and nearly a hundred pounds lighter than the bastard who had tried to rape her.

His stomach burned to think of it.

"Stay here," he said to her, as they reached the bottom of the stairs in the Copper Star lobby. Cain went to the door leading into the saloon to check on Ryder's buddies, see if they were still in there. The bar was about half full, but there was no sign of the men.

He looked out the front door to see if their bikes were still parked along the street, but the arrival of the police must have been enough to send them on the run. Cain was no fool. Even with Ryder gone, four to one wasn't good odds.

He kept a close eye on the shadows and the doorways of closed-up businesses as he led Jenny down the sidewalk to the Jag. Spotting no sign of trouble, he took the overnight bag she had been carrying so he could keep his hands free, clicked the locks, and opened the passenger door.

Jenny settled into the tan leather seat, and he closed the door. Cain rounded the hood of the car, tossed her bag into the seat behind him, and slid in behind the wheel.

When Jenny didn't reach for her seat belt, he pulled it across her chest and latched it, felt her flinch when his arm brushed her breast. Cain silently cursed.

She was still a little shocky. He admired the way she had managed to hold it together so far, but he figured she was close to her limit, and he was glad he had insisted on taking her back to the Grandview.

"Where's your pickup?" she asked as he started the engine.

"I left it at the ranch. The Jag drives better on curves." And I was worried about you. I wanted to get here as fast as I could. But he didn't say that. After what had happened, knowing he was attracted to her would probably scare her to death.

The short drive up the hill took no time at all. The outside hotel lights and the tall LED lights in the parking lot were burning. A few lights glowed through the windows of the hotel.

He drove around back and parked the Jag in his private space behind the building, close to the back door. Grabbing Jenny's overnight bag, he went around and helped her out of the car. She hadn't said a word since they'd driven away from the saloon.

Inside the hotel, Cain reset the alarm system and punched the elevator button. When the door opened, he urged Jenny inside, and the carriage lifted away. She didn't speak until the doors opened and she realized she was in the entry of his suite instead of in the hallway.

"You have a personal elevator. That's nice."

He smiled. "Yes, it is. I like my privacy."

She looked up at him with those big green eyes. "Then what am I doing here?"

He wanted to touch her, hold her the way he had in her hotel room, reassure her she was safe. It was probably the last thing she wanted. "I invited you here. That's different."

He hadn't shown her the suite when he had given her the hotel tour, and as she looked around, he could read her curiosity. She assessed the newly arrived caramel leather sofa and chairs, and the wet bar along one wall, though there still were no barstools. An end table rescued from a second-hand store sat next to the sofa, along with an old brass lamp.

"Besides the living room and master bedroom, there's a guest room and a study down the hall that still needs furniture. Obviously, the place isn't finished," Cain said unnecessarily.

Jenny seemed not to notice. Instead, her gaze took in the wall of windows that looked out at the mountains, though it was too dark to see them.

"This could be really nice with the right accents."

He was glad she was thinking about something besides the attack. "Yes, it could." A thought shifted toward the front of his mind. "I have an interior designer working on the project—several, in fact—but I'd really like your input on my suite."

Surprise showed in her face. "You would?"

"Yes. I think you might be able to give it a little homier feel . . . so it wouldn't be like my office or the house in Scottsdale."

He thought he read something in her face, interest in the solitary life he led, or maybe it was pity.

"All right, I'll give it some thought."

"The bedroom's that way." He pointed toward a door on the right side of the room, trying not to imagine her naked in his bed, the sweet curves he'd seen outlined by her stretch jeans, the full breasts he'd felt when he'd fastened her seat belt.

"The maid was here this morning, so the sheets are clean. Fresh towels in the bathroom. If you need anything, I'll be right out here."

She turned to face him. "What about you? You'll need sheets and a blanket."

"There's some extra bedding in the linen closet in the hall. I'll take care of it. There's a powder room and a guest bathroom, so I won't have to bother you. You just get some sleep."

Jenny didn't move, simply stood there looking up at him.

"What is it?"

Her eyes welled. "I'll never be able to thank you enough."

He didn't want to give her the same excuse, that he'd helped her because she was one of his employees. He didn't want to lie to her again.

"Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Jenny nodded, picked up her overnight bag, went into the bedroom, and closed the door.

Two seconds later, her head popped out. "Any chance you'd have an extra T-shirt? Mine . . . went in the trash after . . ."

"No problem."

He walked into his room, pulled a white cotton V-neck out of the secondhand dresser, and tossed it in her direction.

"Thanks." Jenny snagged it out of the air and closed the door as he walked back into the living room.

Cain sank down on the sofa. What a helluva night. He thought of Jenny in his big king-size bed and wondered if he'd actually be able to sleep.

* * *

Something shifted in the air. Jenny felt it the same way she had before, and her eyes popped open. It wasn't Ryder who stood at the foot of the bed; it was something different, something in the shape of a man that wasn't a man. Something dark and sinister that could float on the slight currents of air in the bedroom.

Her breathing hitched. It's only a dream , she told herself, but when she sat up in bed, she realized her eyes were wide open and she could see his bloody, battered face. A pair of eyes that glowed like red neon gleamed from swollen black sockets in sunken, hollow cheeks.

Jenny screamed, a shriek of terror that sliced through the walls with the squeal of a buzz saw. Cain burst through the door, which, in a show of trust, she hadn't locked.

Cain strode toward her. "What is it?" He glanced around. "Where is he?" His gaze went in search of Ryder, but Jenny shook her head. "What's going on?"

She was trembling from head to foot. She couldn't believe this was happening—not again. "There was . . . was a man at the foot . . . foot of the bed. A man but . . . but not a man."

Cain frowned. "A man but not a man," he repeated darkly.

"Yes, no . . . I don't know. I think . . . I think it was a ghost."

Cain sighed, his exasperation clear. "It was just a dream, honey. You were attacked, damn near raped. It's bound to cause some kind of trauma."

She could feel her eyes welling. She wasn't a crier, yet tonight all she wanted to do was weep.

Cain pulled her up from the bed into his arms. Stupid as it was, Jenny didn't resist. There was something about Cain Barrett that made her feel safe. She took a steadying breath, and her trembling eased, then faded altogether. Jenny clung to him a moment more, then let him go.

She raked back her sleep-tangled hair. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually like this. I'm not usually so much trouble."

Cain's lips twitched. "You're no trouble, Jenny Spencer. I'm glad I was around to help."

She relaxed and managed to smile.

"Think you'll be able to sleep?" Cain asked, and this time, it wasn't amusement she saw in his gold-rimmed brown eyes; it was heat.

Or maybe it was just her imagination, which seemed to be on a roll tonight. "I think so. I'm sorry I woke you." But seeing what appeared to be a ghost wasn't something she was going to forget anytime soon.

"No more sorry 's , " Cain said. "Things happen. When they do, we deal with them."

"Right." She hoped that sounded strong and capable, but she doubted it. For the first time, she remembered the T-shirt he had loaned her. It modestly came to her knees, but the soft white cotton also outlined her body, and the V was deep enough to reveal the tops of her breasts. "Good night, Cain," she said softly.

"Good night, Jenny."

Cain closed the door.