Galahad in Jeans (Louisiana Knights Book 2) Read Free

even and deep, more than reasonable in its warning. She knew he was right, but it didn’t matter. Her hands were shaking, and her knees wobbled below her pencil skirt. She felt lightheaded as the blood left her head, flooding into her heart and lungs. The instinct for flight was too strong to resist. She swung toward where she’d left her car.
    “I said don’t!”
    She was swept into a firm embrace, spun around with dizzying speed. For a stunned moment, her mind was blank as it staggered from terror to disbelief to comprehension. She felt the roughness of brick against her back. A wall of muscle pressed against her breasts while arms like iron bands surrounded her. That scent she noticed earlier of spice soap, fresh air and clean man invaded her senses like a drug. Broad shoulders blocked her view of the street, a barrier between her and the horror the dog represented. Beneath her right hand, she could feel the calm and steady thump of a heartbeat. She was enclosed, safe.
    She heard the click of tough claws on concrete. They grew louder. She shuddered as they came even with where she was held in place by hard hands, hard thighs. Regular, businesslike, unheeding, the clicking moved on, fading away down the sidewalk.
    She closed her eyes on a shuddering sigh and let her forehead rest on the firm shoulder in front of her, absorbing its strength, its fearless protection. It was a long moment before she stirred again.
    “You can let me go.” The words weren’t quite as even as she intended. “I-I’m all right now.”
    “You’re sure?”
    She gave a quick nod without quite meeting his steady blue gaze. “I’m not—I don’t usually fall into such a panic, but—”
    “You don’t like dogs.”
    “Only that one breed. I had a bad experience as a child.”
    “With a Rottweiler.”
    “A Rottweiler and a bicycle. The dog pulled me off, might have done more than put a hole in my leg if a neighbor boy hadn’t come running to chase him away.”
    “Old Ruff isn’t mean. He’s a pet, most of the time. Right now, I’d say his mind is set on a certain female dog down the street. But he does like to chase people.”
    It was impossible to suppress another shiver. “What does he do when he catches them?”
    “Let’s say you might have needed a new skirt.”
    “A new skirt?”
    “I don’t know that he’d have ripped it off, but you might not have wanted to wear it again.”
    She expected to see amusement in his eyes when she met them. Instead, there was simple reassurance. He was only trying to soothe her fear, not laughing at it.
    Gratitude and appreciation shifted through her, along with tenuous pleasure. The combination was so foreign that it startled her. Flattening her hands on his chest, she exerted pressure. “I’m okay now, really. You can let go.”
    “Right.” He eased away and lowered his hands, tucking them into the back pockets of his jeans.
    In a bid for some kind of control, she slanted him a glance from the corners of her eyes. “Of course, I’m still a bit shaky. Perhaps what I need is a cup of coffee to settle my nerves.”
    He watched her for long moments, his features so set she was sure he meant to refuse her again. Then a grim smile lifted a corner of his mouth, making his dimple appear.
    “And a chocolate muffin, I guess. Now why didn’t I think of that?”

Chapter 2

    Beau reached around Carla Nicholson to open the door of the local eatery and coffee shop known as the Watering Hole. She didn’t pause in expectation or side-step away from the swing of it as most women he knew did out of habit. The door almost hit her; would have, except he’d been half expecting her to try to get it herself. She seemed the type.
    She gave him an annoyed look over her shoulder. He grinned; he couldn’t help it.
    The Watering Hole was an institution, had been around for decades though it had changed ownership a couple of years back. The square oak tables covered with blue and white checked oil cloth