Nick had always prided himself on control. A father at the age of twenty-nine, he'd trained himself to keep his emotions in check, keep a constant grip on his temper. But as he watched Erin lead the horse through the rear door of the barn with his little girl astride, his temper ignited.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.
Erin stopped, her gaze wary and level on Nick. "I was-"
"Don't be mad, Dad."
Stephanie's words struck him like a stinging lash. Nick looked at his daughter and felt the fist of emotion lodged in his chest tighten even more. "I'm not angry with you, Steph."
"Don't be mad at Erin, either," she said. "She didn't do anything wrong. Riding Bandito was my idea."
Shaking with the remnants of fear and a powerful anger he hadn't been prepared for, Nick approached the horse slowly and reached for Stephanie. "Come here." He dragged her into his arms. Her little-girl scent surrounded him like a soft cloud. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Dad, I'm okay. Geez, we were just walking."
He closed his eyes against the ensuing burst of emotion. He wouldn't let this innocent child be hurt. Not again. Certainly not by a reckless adult.
"You smell like Bandito," he said.
Stephanie grinned. "I like the way he smells."
Not wanting her to notice his state of mind, he forced a smile. "Go inside and ask Mrs. T. to fix a pot of coffee for me, would you, honeybunch?"
The little girl eyed him suspiciously. "You're going to yell at Erin, aren't you?"
He heard the woman in question behind him, putting Bandito into his stall, but Nick didn't look at her. He wasn't sure what it would do to him if he did. He was angry and wanted to stay that way. "Erin and I are going to have a talk."
"About what?"
"About boundaries and responsibility." Carrying Stephanie over to the wheelchair, he settled her in the seat. "Tell Em I'll be inside in a few minutes."
Stephanie looked past him toward Erin. Nick didn't miss the quick, uncertain smile, or the spark of newfound respect in his little girl's eyes. It had been a long time since Steph had smiled at anyone but him and Mrs. T-and she didn't do it nearly often enough to suit him. He wondered how Erin McNeal had managed to reach her in such a short period of time.
"I gotta go," Stephanie said to Erin. "Sorry you got all sweaty and dirty."
Erin looked down at her uniform. "Hey, a little dust never hurt anyone."
Ignoring Erin as best he could, Nick helped his daughter maneuver the wheelchair around, then watched her disappear through the door. Aware that his heart rate was dangerously high, he closed the door behind him and turned to face Erin.
In keeping with her tough-guy image, she raised her chin. "This isn't as… premeditated as it looks."
He started toward her. "Really?"
She stepped back. "Stephanie came to the station asking for you. She skipped school and needed a ride home. You were at the courthouse, so I drove her home. One thing led to another and-"
"One thing led to another?" Nick barely recognized his own voice. "That's a lame excuse, don't you think?"
"It's the truth."
"Just who do you think you are, walking into my home and endangering my daughter like that?"
"She wasn't in any danger."
Nick ground his teeth at her denial. "That horse weighs a thousand pounds. He hasn't been ridden in over three years. Don't tell me she wasn't in any danger."
"Bandito is well trained and even better behaved." Erin took another step back. "Stephanie wanted to ride, Nick. She begged me to take her riding."
"So you suggested she hop up on his back and go for a spin? And that's not irresponsible?"
"It's compassionate. She loves that horse-"
"She's a nine-year-old kid with a serious spinal condition. She isn't qualified to make the decision as to whether or not she can ride a horse. Neither are you."
"She did great. Nick, she laughed, for God's sake. She laughed! The instant she got on that horse, she came alive."
"I'm aware of her wants, McNeal. I don't need you pointing them out to me."
"Are you sure about that?"
Nick tried to bank his boiling temper, but she was pushing him too hard. "You don't know anything about her. You sure as hell don't know anything about me."
"Maybe I know more than you think."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I know about the accident, Nick. I know what happened to your wife. I know why. I think that explains a lot about you."
He paused two feet away from her. If he got any closer, he wasn't sure what he would do. Kiss her, maybe; he was too angry to be rational. He didn't have a rational bone in his body when it came to this woman.
"This doesn't have anything to do with Rita," he said.
"Maybe this has more to do with her than you realize."
"This is about you and your recklessness and the havoc that kind of recklessness wreaks on people's lives. Stephanie and I have been through it once, and I don't plan to let you or anyone else put us through that same hell again."
"Life is full of risks," she said softly. "You can't stop living because you're afraid of getting hurt."
"Don't get living and living dangerously confused, McNeal. Not everyone has your taste for adrenaline."
"This isn't about me. It's about you and the fact that you're holding on too tight-"
"This is about you risking my daughter's safety because you need some kind of personal absolution."
"Maybe I'm just a convenient scapegoat because you can't face your own fears."
Nick's control snapped with an almost audible click. Anger and fear and another emotion he didn't want to name burst free, like shrapnel exploding from a bomb. He reached Erin in a single, swift stride. Her eyes widened, but he didn't stop. Grasping her arms, he moved her backward. "You have a real gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."
She gasped when her back met the wall. "You're out of control."
Nick knew he'd lost the battle for emotional distance-if he'd ever had that to begin with when it came to this woman. He'd somehow gotten tangled up with her, physically, emotionally, and the only way he knew how to save himself was to drive her away once and for all.
"Damn right I am," he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.
Erin hadn't expected Nick to kiss her gently. She'd expected urgency and heat and the fire she'd seen in his eyes.
What she got was nothing like what she'd expected.
His kiss spoke of desire. The raw sensuality of it overwhelmed her. He tasted of restraint and frustration harnessed by a tattered veil of discipline that was quickly disintegrating. The combination took her breath away and tested every ounce of control she possessed. A well of unleashed emotions rushed through her like a river bursting its banks. She rode with the current, letting it push her, tumble her, until she barely knew up from down, until she no longer cared.
His hands slipped from her biceps, down her arms, igniting every nerve ending along the way. His fingers entwined with hers. All the while his mouth undermined her judgment, tore down her defenses until she stood silent and still and accepted him with every fiber of her being. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she welcomed him. Vaguely, she was aware of him sliding her hands upward, until he pinned her to the wall, her hands stretched above her head, his body snug against hers. She felt the weight of him, the hard shaft of his arousal like steel against her belly. Blood pooled in erogenous zones she never knew existed.
Nick tore his mouth from hers. He was breathing hard, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek. He gazed at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Let's have it out, McNeal," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. You know I want you. Let's cut to the chase and get this out of our systems once and for all."
Without waiting for a reply, he kissed her. Hard. Hungrily. With an unrelenting intensity that left her dizzy from a troubling mix of confusion and lust. She shouldn't be kissing him back. She knew better than to play with fire. And at the moment, Nick Ryan was like a powder keg about to explode. Erin knew she would be the one to get burned. He didn't care about her. He was angry with her.