Emma stared out the kitchen window, watching the trap she’d set nearly four hours ago. She hadn’t meant to tell Ben about her suspicions. Talking about sabotage and someone being out to get her only made her sound like a paranoid freak.

But Ben hadn’t laughed off her fears.

In fact, he hadn’t even questioned it, which only made her more concerned because it meant he thought she might be right. Which surprised her because Ben seemed like a Boy Scout, the kind of guy inclined to believe the best of everyone, the kind who followed every rule and regulation, the kind who looked at the big picture. She actually liked that about him and, under normal circumstances, it was something they had in common. Although she could be impulsive, charging headfirst into matters but she did it within the confines of regulations. However, when it came to keeping her sanctuary open, she’d break every rule in the book if she had to in order to make it happen.

That started with luring Buster back in his cage safely. It was going to be a long night, staring out into the stillness of the night, waiting for Buster to, hopefully, decide to return to the easy meal they’d laid out for him. She prayed he’d return; he had to. Then maybe she’d take Ben’s advice, do something to reach out to the community and let them see she was able to run this place just as well as her father had. If she could keep her animals safe.

“Hey, Emma?”

Ben’s voice was husky as he came down the hall, into the kitchen, rubbing a towel over his dark hair, making it stand in spikes.

But it wasn’t his voice or his hair that made her throat close. It was the man, standing in her doorway barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, unbuttoned at the waist, with droplets of water from his shower still clinging to his skin. One broke free and slid down his chest, over his well-defined abs and past the opening of his jeans.

Oh, to be that bead of water.

His dark gaze slammed into hers and Emma felt a fire ignite within her. She actually squeezed her thighs together in an effort to hold back her body’s response to the Adonis standing before her. Ben McQuaid wasn’t just a fine specimen, he was a statue of perfection, carved by the hand of a god. The man was rippling muscles, long and lean, chiseled and carved flesh, and Emma wanted to trace the lines that crisscrossed and overlapped like marble artwork. The sleeve tattoo that covered most of his right arm, from the forearm to his shoulder, made the clean-cut fireman look dangerous.

Maybe he wasn’t as safe as she’d first assumed.

His mouth tipped in a lopsided grin, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Please, don’t let him realize what I’m thinking.

“Where’d you want me to put this towel?”

“The . . . uh . . .” she stammered, unable to get her brain functioning again. “Um . . . in the . . .” Shit, what was that room called?

“Laundry room?” he filled in for her, his lips quirking to one side and deepening that damn dimple.

“Yes.” She jumped up from the table, needing something other than his rock-hard body to focus on. “I think I still have some of my dad’s t-shirts if you need a clean shirt to sleep in.” She plucked the towel from his fingers and felt her entire body throb when his hand reached out, grasping her wrist.

“Don’t worry about it. I always have a bag in the back of my truck, in case I stay over at the station.”

His voice was more gravely than she’d realized. His eyes practically glowed with golden flecks in the depth of his dark gaze as it skimmed over her, caressing her face and lingering on her lips.

Please, don’t look at me like that. I can’t be responsible for anything I might do.

Ben’s thumb brushed along the inside of her elbow making goose bumps break out over her arms. She could smell her own soap mixed with the male scent of his skin—so tantalizing. Emma fought back a shiver of need, wishing she could just lean into him.

Hell, who was she kidding? What she really wanted to do was to drag him into her room and have her way with him. Her breath caught in her chest at the fantasy.

“You think it’s safe for me to go grab it?”

“Safe?” she repeated, dumbly, wishing her brain would get with the program.

“Because of Buster,” he reminded her, lifting his brows. He was probably questioning her sanity at this point. “Do you think I could go out and grab my bag?”

“Oh . . . oh! Yeah, because of Buster.” She took a step back, away from his spellbinding touch, needing to put some space between him and her so that her brain could function properly again. “I’ll get it.”

She hurried past him, holding her breath and trying desperately to get through the doorway without touching the bared skin of his chest. She didn’t need anything else that might scatter her thoughts, or her senses, and touching him would definitely do it. Emma rushed through the front door, uncertain whether she was more anxious to get away from Ben or to get some clothes on him so she could stop thinking about how much she wanted to see exactly how warm and wet his body would feel beneath her fingers.

“Wait a second,” he called, running after her, his feet padding quietly on the hardwood floor.

“It’s fine,” she yelled back. “You don’t have shoes on.”

“No, you need this.”

Emma ignored him, jogging down the steps and threw open the passenger door of his truck, leaning inside, grateful for the respite to cool the very hot fantasies about a certain half-naked fireman and what sort of fire she’d like him to put out for her. She glanced around the front seats, but saw no bag.

Where would I put a duffel bag?

Emma climbed into the truck, looking into the backseat. Sure enough, tucked partially out of sight under the backseat was a black duffel bag. She tugged on the handle, sliding the zipper back to reveal what appeared to be several changes of clothing. Emma fought back a grin. He was a Boy Scout, for sure.

“Got it!” she yelled, holding the bag up as she backed out of the truck.

“Don’t move.” Ben’s voice was low but authoritative.

She looked back toward the porch, where he waited. “What? I’m just—”

Then she heard it, that low rumble she’d recognize anywhere. Buster’s warning growl. She looked past the back of the truck, on the other side of the driveway, where she’d set the trap up under the trees.

Buster was crouched low, as if he’d been trying to get at the meat she’d left out without getting caught in the trap but without claws, he couldn’t quite manage to grasp the meat. His golden eyes glowed in the near dusk as he focused in on her, the shadows making his tawny fur look darker than usual, more like a panther. She would have had a perfect shot to dart him in the hindquarters without risking any injury to him, if she hadn’t been in such a hurry that she’d forgotten to bring the dart gun.

Emma cursed her impatience. In her hurry to get away from Ben, she’d left the dart gun sitting beside the door on the porch. She hadn’t expected the cat to come for the trap so quickly. She hadn’t been thinking clearly and she’d broken her cardinal rule—safety first.

Hearing footsteps, she glanced back to see Ben approaching, gun held to his shoulder. “Don’t. It has to be in a certain spot.”

“I’ve got this.”

As if comprehending his intent, Buster bared his teeth at Ben, hissing and hunching lower, raising his hindquarters in the air. His shoulder blades twitched as he readied to disappear in the dusk. Or worse, pounce.

“Stop,” she ordered quietly. “He’s going to run.”

“Good.”

“Not good. I need to catch him, remember?” Her voice had taken on a higher pitch and she knew she had to get it under control before the cat picked up on her anxiousness. He’d been a pet once, he seemed to like her. Maybe she could edge her way back to the house safely. She took a step backward, moving toward Ben.

“Hand me the dart gun.”

Buster’s eyes flicked toward Ben, still approaching slowly, and his fangs flashed dangerously as he screamed, piercing the stillness with his rage.

“Stop,” she warned, wishing she’d been able to get a few steps closer to Ben. “He’s feeling threatened.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.”

Emma took another step backward, shuffling her feet carefully over the worn dirt surface. Instead of relaxing his stance and returning to his meal, Buster raised up, stalking toward her slowly. It wasn’t the reaction she’d expected, nor was it usual for him. He might be wild, but he also knew she wasn’t a threat.

Unless that was the problem. She needed to change tactics.

“Hey, hey!” she yelled at the cat, putting her arms up high and waving in an attempt to regain the upper hand with him and force him to see her as a predator instead of prey.

“Emma?”

She heard the concern in Ben’s voice. She couldn’t blame him. Buster didn’t seem inclined to back down now that he’d started toward her. She eased back, moving behind the truck door, ready to use it to help block Buster’s attack if needed.

“You’re going to have to do it. But aim slightly higher than normal and for his back legs. Only shoot once.”

“He’s getting closer to you. I can’t see his back legs.”

“Don’t hit his lungs. You’ll kill him.”

“Yeah, that’s my concern,” he muttered.

She heard the quick whine of the dart gun and Buster jumped into the air slightly, his scream loud in the stillness. Animals inside the compound began to sound off and Buster immediately ran toward the back of the truck, attempting to hide from this new threat he hadn’t expected. Emma reached for the truck door to shut it so she could edge to where she hoped the cat would fall to rest, when she heard the whine of the dart gun and barely jumped back against the truck in time for the dart to graze the edge of the door before falling to one side.

“What the hell are you doing?” She spun on Ben. “I said once.”

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Obviously you did.” She picked up the dart, holding it in front of his face. “You almost shot me!”

“You said you needed to catch him and he was getting away.”

She hurried to the back of the truck but Buster was nowhere in sight. Emma sighed. “Correction. He got away. Now I’ve got a half-drugged mountain lion running around. He’s a target for any other predators in the area.”

“What other predators? He’s the top of the freaking food chain.”

She scowled at him as he lowered the gun, before looking out at the tree line where Buster must have gone. “Not if he’s encroaching on another mountain lion’s territory.”

Emma grabbed the gun from his hand, slipping on the safety, as she walked past him. Brandon came out from one side of the barn. “Where were you? You were supposed to be in the barn.”

“I heard the commotion and grabbed a couple darts in case you needed me. Did I miss the fun?”

“Something like that.”

“Please tell me you got him.”

She didn’t have the energy to bother reliving the experience with him, or the rest of the crew. She had no doubt Jake would only find a way to make it her fault and take the opportunity, yet again, to remind her of how she didn’t come close to measuring up to her father and lacked his expertise.

She looked into Brandon’s face, so filled with trust and dismay that he hadn’t been able to help. But, he shouldn’t have to. She should have remembered the gun, should have been more careful, shouldn’t have ever let Buster get away.

Maybe Jake and Ben were right. Animals didn’t escape on her father’s watch, not ever. Maybe the best thing for everyone would be for her to just shut the doors and let it all go to hell.

Ben figured it was in his best interest to give Emma some space for the rest of the evening. She’d been pissed enough that they’d missed the chance at catching Buster, but compounded by the fact that he’d nearly shot her with her own dart gun made being scarce seem like the only viable option for him at this point.

But he wasn’t sure that’s what happened. Not that he could tell her that. He’d barely slid his finger to the trigger of the dart gun when the dart hit the edge of his truck door. And the angle had been off. If he’d shot it, Emma would have been directly in his line of fire. It scared him to think what could have happened, and who might have been responsible.

He glanced out the bedroom window again, eyeing the still empty trap. He was definitely in over his head. He didn’t know the first thing about capturing a wild animal, let alone how to help this woman who’d decided she didn’t need any assistance. Even though it was perfectly clear she did. There was someone out for her, some sort of attacker, and now they’d made it personal, trying to shoot her with a dart.

Ben twirled the dart in his hand. He’d picked it up when she wasn’t looking and she’d been too distracted looking for Buster to notice. The needle was long and a large gauge, big enough that it would have hurt, but he had no idea what the sedative would have done to her. Luckily, it had spilled onto the ground and they hadn’t had to find out. But even if it hadn’t killed her, it would have taken her out of commission, long enough to spread the word and get the facility shut down if that was the intent.

Her words earlier came back to haunt him, chasing his own. I’m damn sure not going to let someone scare me away . . . Someone was doing more than trying to scare Emma.

Ben should walk away while he still could. His brain warned him that he was getting in too deep, caring too much, that he was doing the same thing all over again, falling back on old habits. Logic told him to head for his truck, jam the pedal to the floor and get the hell outta there, as far and as fast as possible.

Except he knew he wasn’t leaving until that cat was caught. And there was no way he was leaving Emma here alone—well, alone with her volunteers—because Ben didn’t trust Jake any more than he did that cat. The man rubbed him the wrong way, and seemed useless in a crisis. If he’d been watching, like he was supposed to, he’d have been out there to shoot that cat. Emma needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it, and he wasn’t one to walk away from someone in need.

Of course, that wasn’t taking into account his own needs, and Emma had those needs twisting through him like he was caught in a tornado, blowing every which way, and unable to right himself. The more he tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t want her, the more his body seemed to reject the logic of walking away. But, when his lust put her in danger . . . Ben ran a hand through his hair, cursing his own stupidity.

He should have headed out to get his clothes himself, or brought them inside in the first place instead of leaving them in the truck, but his brain seemed to forget to function around her.

Either way, there was a cougar on the loose and, while Emma might think she had the situation under control, it didn’t take an animal expert to know that mountain lion had been ready to attack her. He knew it and, from the way her hands had been shaking when she took the gun from him, so had she.

A knock on the door jerked him from his reverie and he jumped up from the bed in her guest room. “Yeah?”

Emma opened it, tentatively. It was the first time he’d seen her act anything but self-assured and he wondered why. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms but remained in the doorway, as if she was trying to build up courage to speak.

“I just want to apologize for yelling at you the way I did. It wasn’t your fault. I should have known better than to go out to the truck without the gun. I put you in a dangerous position.”

“Emma, I should have been more careful, or grabbed my clothes out of the truck before I came in, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Emma shook her head. “No, this was my fault and it wasn’t right for me to push the blame on you.”

Ben narrowed his eyes. “You know, you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.”

Her eyes flickered brightly for a moment before shuttering and growing cold. “What? I don’t.”

“No?” Her hair was still damp from her shower, making wet circles on the shoulders of her t-shirt. He moved close and lifted a thick strand that was stuck to her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “Because it sure sounds like you are.”

She turned her head, refusing to look at him, but he noticed she didn’t duck her head. That would show weakness and his Emma only showed strength, even if it was going to get her killed.

And when did she become your Emma?

“You don’t know me, or what I’m dealing with here.”

It was as if she’d read his mind. Her gaze clashed with his, reminding him of a storm he’d been caught in while deep sea fishing in Hawaii, when he’d gone for the Pro Bowl with his brother Grant. Crystal clear, glittering turquoise, but tempestuous. He could read a deep longing in its depth but it wasn’t due to attraction, it was a need for approval.

He knew it well. He’d seen it enough times from his twin brothers, working with their father. Had seen it in the faces of each of his other four siblings when they explained to their parents that they didn’t want to work the cattle, that other pursuits were calling them from their father’s dream of a family-run ranch.

He saw the same desire in Emma’s eyes, that same fear that no matter what she did, it wouldn’t be enough to measure up. But, unlike him or his siblings, Emma was seeking validation from a ghost, and a town that had qualms about giving it. He wanted to pull her into his embrace, to show her the support she so desperately needed, but he could see by her rigid stance, she wouldn’t accept that offer from him.

“You’re right,” Ben admitted. “I don’t know exactly what you have to deal with, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see the weight you’re trying to carry on your own.”

There was a flicker in her eyes, a vulnerability he knew she would never admit to, tethered to regret. He could only assume it was about her father more than concerns about the town. He might not be able to bear the burden for her, but he could remind her that she wasn’t alone.

“This place is going to be fine, Emma. I’ll help you make sure of that. You don’t have to run it the way anyone else says you should. You know what you’re doing and the sanctuary is yours now. For what it’s worth,” Ben began, then brushed his thumb over her chin, “I think you’re doing a pretty damn good job.” He gave her a half-shrug and a grin, hoping to lighten the heaviness that seemed to surround them. “Escaped mountain lions aside.”

His joke managed to do exactly what he’d intended and a faint smile tugged the corner of her lips to one side as she shook her head.

“And I promise not to shoot at you from here on out. So, are we friends again?” he asked.

She lifted her gaze again, but this time, her eyes didn’t hold the vulnerability that had been there a moment ago. They glimmered like jewels and Ben thought he might lose himself in the hungry desire he saw there.

“Is that what we are?”

He knew he should keep his distance. There was something that burned hot between them and he shouldn’t fan the flame, especially when he suspected it would only lead to one of them getting hurt in the end. But knowing what to do and convincing himself to do it when he was around her were two entirely different things.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Emma.” The words slipped past his lips before he could stop them.

Ben’s thumb brushed over the line of her jaw, his fingers moving behind her damp hair to cup her neck and draw her close. Emma’s breath was warm against his face and, rather than close her eyes and wait for his kiss, her long lashes brushed against the arch of her brows, meeting his gaze with intensity, just before she stood on her toes to take what he so willingly gave.

Like their first kiss, it was an explosion of seduction as soon as their mouths met. There was no hesitancy, no testing the waters. Emma knew exactly what she wanted, exactly what he needed, and he was content to let her take the lead. Her tongue slid over his lower lip before plunging into his mouth, dancing with his in sensations of slick sweetness and velvety heat, searing him. She branded him, making him forget why he’d decided this was a bad idea.

Her body fit against his, curving into him as his hand slid down her spine to rest at her lower back. He groaned when she tipped her hips into him, pressing against his arousal, already throbbing for release, as his body ignited with the yearning raging through him. He had to regain his control. She needed a friend, a champion, not a man to take advantage of her in a moment of weakness. He wasn’t that kind of guy, and he wasn’t about to give in to primal lust, no matter how tempting it was.

Ben’s arms tightened around her slightly, lifting her closer even as he withdrew from their kiss. Emma’s arms wound around his neck for balance, her breasts pressing against his chest, and he fought to force himself to end this moment of pure pleasure. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded himself he’d been raised to be a gentleman; he couldn’t make himself end it. Not yet. Just one more kiss because it would have to be their last.

His lips found the hollow near her ear and Emma let out a small whimper of yearning. That small sound killed any control he thought he had. He’d been crazy to think he could keep from wanting her.

His hand slid under the hem of her shirt, gliding over her ribs to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over the taut peak beneath the thin fabric. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his back, her short nails biting into his skin slightly. Her response to his touch made the blood pound through his veins. He sucked at her neck, tasting her, his tongue swirling over her pulse, feeling it race in time with his own.

She leaned back slightly, her hips pressed against his arousal, making him swell with hunger and growl with the exquisite torment. Emma jerked her t-shirt over her head and pushed against his chest, guiding him backward until the bed in the center of the room hit his calves. Her hands slid around his waist to his back, down to cup his ass.

He wanted her. Every cell in his body was aching with hunger for her. It was primal, ravenous and he knew it would devour them both. He had to stop himself but he was having difficulty convincing his body. With him wearing nothing but sweatpants and only her thin flannel pajama pants between them, he couldn’t hide the ridge of his erection pressing against her.

“Emma,” he protested, gulping for air, trying to regain the restraint he’d become so proficient at over the past year. Emma’s lips parted in her siren’s smile as she pushed him backward and he fell onto the mattress.

She caught her thumbs in the material at her hips, sliding the pajama bottoms over the curve of her hips and letting them fall to the floor with a whisper. She stood there, wearing nothing but a thin cotton bra with white cotton underwear, and the magnificent simplicity of this woman struck him like lightning, sharp and powerful. The strength of his reaction to her left him feeling exposed.

He’d been this vulnerable before. It had led to him losing everything. He didn’t want to go through that again.