He's No Prince Charming Read Free Page A

her, Dakota Dunn had managed to reach inside him and yank unwanted emotion to the surface.

    And he didn’t like it.

    “Oh, really,” Trace scoffed in a hard tone that was meant to tick her off.

    “Yes, really.” When she did a sassy little head bop he knew he had to get tougher.

    “Well, let me explain something to you.” Trace remained in the shadows but stood up straighter, even though it hurt to put his full weight on his bad leg. “This is a fishing camp. Full of men out to have a good time.”

    “I know that. I own this good ole boys’ club, remember?”

    Ignoring that pesky little fact, Trace continued. “Yeah, well, at night these guys come back in from the lake and party it up. They play pool and poker and try to drink one another under the table. It’s no place for a woman like you.”

    “Like me?” She jammed her thumb at her chest. Of course, Trace’s gaze traveled there, reminding him of what was beneath her backward T-shirt—a skimpy pink bra and lush curves.

    “Yeah, like you,” he ground out, becoming more and more annoyed at his unwanted attraction to her. After his career-ending accident, the buckle bunnies who had banged down his door for attention disappeared in a flash. Not one of them had come to his bedside while he lay there in the hospital, bruised and broken in more places than he could count. Nor had any of them showed up during his painful rehabilitation. Since then, he had sworn off women for life, and he wasn’t about to let Dakota Dunn change that fact.

    She had to go.

    Trace decided he would have to scare her away, and, judging from recent experience, it shouldn’t be too difficult.

    “Just what do you mean by a woman like me?” she persisted, interrupting his thoughts.

    Another wave of sexual awareness washed over him, pissing him off even further.

    “Well?” She demanded sharply, but when she tilted her head to the side, her sloppy ponytail slipped sideways. Someone needed to tell her she really sucked at being a badass.

    But Trace had to stifle a groan. Dakota Dunn was a heady combination of sex and innocence, making him want to grab her and kiss her crazy, rip that shirt off, and bury his head between . . .

    Oh, damn it all to hell. She really has to go. Inhaling deeply, he knew he had to be a jackass, which was luckily something he excelled at. “A pampered, spineless, high-maintenance city chick who does not belong here.”

    Her golden eyebrows shot upward and she gasped. “Sp-sp-spineless?” Her eyes narrowed and she fisted her hands at her sides. “How dare you!”

    Knowing he had hit a nerve, Trace decided to go for the kill. “You were afraid of a damned spider! These woods are filled with much worse.”

    “Need I remind you that I have a condition where spiders are concerned? I’m not afraid of anything else.” She folded her arms over her chest and arched one eyebrow.

    “Not coyotes, raccoons, or snakes?”

    “No, no, and no !” she insisted.

    “Or mice?”

    “No!” she said, but her eyes widened just a fraction and she swallowed hard.

    “Well, that’s good.”

    “Why?”

    “Because one just scurried across the floor right behind you. This cabin has been closed up for a while. It’s probably infested with them.”

    She blinked rapidly but shook her head. “You’re just messin’ with me.”

    Trace raked his fingers through his shaggy hair, and then shrugged. “Whatever you think,” he casually replied, but then made a show of looking over her shoulder and raising his eyebrows.

    “Oh, come on—I’m not stupid. You don’t want me here at this camp so you’re trying to frighten me away. Well, Trace Coleman, I’m not afraid of a little ole mouse or”—she took a step closer, giving Trace a whiff of her delicate perfume—“big, bad you!”

    “Is that right?”

    “Yes!”

    “Okay, then.” Deciding it was time Dakota got a good look at him, Trace reached over on the wall and flicked the light