Laura Leigh Bennett, a former debutante used to the finer things in life, is accused of a crime she swears she didn't commit. In an effort to clear her name, she jumps bail and goes on the run like a common criminal. Her goal is to stay clear of the law and find the person she believes shot Gerald Wayne, but a wise-ass bounty hunter soon catches her and sends her life spiraling even further out of control.
Gideon Blake has been bored ever since he left the military. He has family money, so he doesn't have to work, but he relies on the contract jobs Bayou Bounty Hunters, Inc. throws his way to keep him out of trouble. So when Ryder calls needing a man to hunt down a woman who's jumped bail, Gideon agrees. He catches the former debutante, but before he can haul her back to jail, the two are trapped together by a terrible storm.
The electricity arcing between Laura Leigh and Gideon is as powerful as the lightning popping outside. Laura Leigh feels that visceral pull and uses it in an attempt to convince Gideon to help prove her innocence before he takes her back to jail. Gideon must decide if he'll stick by his guns, or sacrifice his integrity for a woman he's just met.
A large body stepped in front of Laura Leigh.
"Oh, my God!" she shrieked, lurching sideways and tripping over the backpack. She fell and landed on her knees on the hard wooden floor. Pain speared all the way up to her hips. "Ow!"
"Whoa, take it easy." The big man kept coming but raised both hands as if attempting to calm a wild animal. "Are you okay?"
"No!" she shouted. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer.
What is he doing here? Who is he?
She swiped at the tears filling her eyes and held up her hand to ward him off. "Back off, or I'll scream."
"Good luck with that, sweetheart." He flipped a switch on the wall, flooding the room behind him with light, then continued walking toward her. "You and I are all alone out here."
"Don't call me sweetheart," she bellowed. "I don't even know you."
"No, but you will -- in a professional capacity only, of course."
"Will not." Mortified that she hadn't yet attempted to get up, she chose to do so and discovered her legs wouldn't work. A muted curse slipped from her lips. "This is freaking unbelievable. I can't even--"
"Hold on." He surged forward, slid his arms beneath hers, and set her on her feet. "There you are. Is that better?"
"Let go of me." She slapped his hands away. "Don't touch me."
"I didn't hear a thank you." He released her but didn't step back.
She lifted her chin and glared at him. "And you won't, either. Who the devil are you? Is this your cabin? Are you Ben's friend?"
"Who?" He frowned.
She narrowed her eyes. "So this isn't your cabin. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
"The cabin belongs to a friend of mine. I'm here looking for you."
"Looking for me?" Terror streaked through her.
She gaped at him and for the first time took in his broad shoulders, narrow hips, and powerful upper body. His crisp yellow dress shirt was tucked into his jeans, though he'd rolled up the sleeves. The light was behind him, so she couldn't see his face, but everything about him screamed one thing.
She blanched. "Oh, my God. Are you a cop?"
"No." He quirked his mouth. "Although I do get that question a lot. I'm a private investigator-slash-fugitive retrieval agent."
"A fugitive retrieval agent?" All the breath left her body. If that meant what she thought it did, her goose was cooked. Well, she could play dumb with the best of them. She wet her lips. "Wh-what exactly do you mean? I don't understand."
"Well, most folks call me a bounty hunter."