Sloan fought his reaction to the flaming lust Lainie’s anger had brought out in him. Gulping down the last remnants of desire, he swore under his breath.

The assignment to protect Lainie Gardner’s body might just turn out to be a lot more difficult than he’d ever imagined.

Sick to her stomach and madder than all get-out, Lainie tossed a string of bad words toward the back of the motel room door as it closed behind Sloan. Being angry at him was the only way she could survive her conflicting emotions.

She hardly ever used curse words, however. And she had no idea where she’d learned a few of the ones she’d just thrown out. What was the matter with her?

Yes, she was scared beyond all reason, and near hysterical at the thought that her sister might be injured—or worse. But none of that accounted for the lust she’d felt as Sloan stood there with that teasing grin on his face. The flashes of heat and weakness his look created pushed pure old-fashioned desire trembling down her spine. The anger had actually turned her on.

She was mad again just thinking about it. How stupid could one supposedly smart woman be?

Her shakes started once more. She felt them move up her wobbly legs and spread across her body. Good grief.

Was her body betraying her need for Sloan? She prayed that her reaction to him was just some weird kind of delayed stress related to her crazy predicament.

Desperately wanting to regain the control and determination she’d become famous for, Lainie fought her own emotions. She was always in charge of every situation and this one should be no different. The danger was over. It was time to start thinking instead of feeling.

And all she could think of was the arousal in Sloan’s chestnut-colored eyes as he’d headed out the door? Oh dear Lord, help her. The stress must be driving her totally insane.

Lainie wasn’t the kind of woman who was normally disgusted by the thought of good healthy sex. Far from it. She’d had a couple of great experiences with that very thing in her checkered youth. But that was long ago. Besides that, she simply did not jump into bed with total strangers—not even ones who’d just saved her life.

Struggling to even out her ragged breathing, she ordered herself to stop all this idiotic emotional stuff and to start thinking. Just close her eyes, clear her mind and rationally consider her options.

When she finally managed to close her eyes for a few seconds, they popped right back open as the shaking began again. Instead of waiting for the trembling to stop this time, she focused on her surroundings, and the reality of the room hit her with a sickening rush. It stopped the shakes but gave her a headache instead. What a truly awful place to pick to hide.

Using her vivid imagination, she could tell that forty or fifty years ago these furnishings might’ve been someone’s idea of fashionable. The avocado walls, gold carpeting and dreadful flower-print bedspread looked as if they’d seen much better days.

A cheap chair, a metal rack with two wire hangers and a TV set with an old-fashioned rabbit-ears antenna were the only items besides the bed in this cramped room. The place smelled of stale cigarettes. And the heavy rubber-backed drapes over the one lone window contributed to a depressing atmosphere.

Lainie checked the bathroom and found two plastic cups wrapped in little paper jackets, a green-glass ashtray and the smallest bar of soap she’d ever seen. All of it had been crammed onto the edge of a single cracked sink.

Two yellowed towels sat folded on the back of the toilet, while the plastic shower curtain hung crookedly off its metal rings. Boy oh boy. The lap of luxury.

As much as she hated the thought of stripping down in this joint, she hated the idea of having glass slivers embedded in her skin even more. With a careful sigh, Lainie grabbed a towel and fitted it over her hair. The tiny thing wasn’t big enough to cover her head, but it would have to do while she took off her clothes and stepped into the shower.

Sloan balanced the two soda cans in one hand while he pulled the motel room key from his pocket with the other. He carefully inserted the key in the lock and waited for either the chain to stop him or for a heavy object to come flying at his head. Neither thing happened, so he pushed the door open and walked into the room.

He’d given her a full half hour, hoping that she’d use the time to calm down and take a shower. Actually, the idea of a cold shower had sounded pretty good to him when he’d last walked out of here.