His mission: keep her safe, no matter what...

A Coltons of Roaring Springs thriller

Just as Bree Colton is about to take the local art world by storm, someone is determined to sabotage her success…unless Rylan Bennet can keep her safe. Bree doesn’t want anyone to protect her—not even gorgeous Rylan, whose secrets threaten them both. But can the former soldier win the battle for Bree’s heart and the war against a sinister foe?

JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favourites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mum to two grown-up children.

Also by Jane Godman

Colton and the Single MumCovert KissesThe Soldier’s SeductionSecret Baby, Second ChanceOtherworld ProtectorOtherworld RenegadeOtherworld ChallengerImmortal BillionaireThe Unforgettable WolfOne Night with the Valkyrie

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Colton’s Secret Bodyguard

Jane Godman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09383-5

COLTON’S SECRET BODYGUARD

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my very beautiful,

very tiny new granddaughter.

Welcome to the world, little one.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

Bree Colton had stopped trying to reprogram herself. Some people were larks, others were owls. Larks were cheery rise-and-shine morning people, the sort who started yawning once darkness fell. Owls were the alarm-clock-smashing, dance-till-dawn types. Bree was a night person, at her best between midnight and 4:00 a.m.

Which meant that right now, at eight thirty in the morning, she was having trouble remembering her own name. Over the years, she had developed strategies for dealing with her daybreak intolerance. The first stage was caffeine. Rocket fuel strength, without a trace of cream or sugar. Bree had trained her assistant to keep the coffee coming until she was ready to face the world. Most mornings, it took a long time.

Her other tactic solved two problems. One of her most precious possessions was her digital recorder, which, as well as helping overcome the morning brain fog, was also an aid to coping with her dyslexia.

Every evening, before she left the gallery, she would record the following day’s to-do list. Her first task each morning was to link the recorder up to her laptop, so she could upload her list into her voice-activated diary. Then, of course, she had to get her newly caffeine-fueled body moving and do the things she had planned.

After taking a long slug of coffee, she pulled open the top left drawer of her desk and reached inside without looking. It was where she always placed her recorder and when her fingers didn’t automatically close around it, she frowned. A quick search through the contents of the drawer confirmed her worst fears. The recorder wasn’t there.

She bit back an exclamation. The forthcoming art show was taking up all her time, and she’d worked late the previous night. It had been almost nine o’clock when she’d finally left the office. Scrunching her forehead, she made an effort to remember. She could recall dictating her list. Then what?

I’m sure I put the recorder in the drawer.

If that was the case, where was it now? Bree had locked the gallery doors last night and opened them again this morning. No one else could have gotten into her office. No one had any reason to. Even if they had, why would they remove her device and not take anything else?

The answer was simple. It hadn’t happened. Her memory was just playing tricks on her, fooling her into thinking that, because she always followed a certain routine, she had done it again last night. Clearly, she had put the recorder somewhere else. The question was...where?

Huffing out a breath, she drank the rest of her coffee while emptying her purse onto the desktop in the hope that she might have picked up the recorder with her cell phone. Even as she did, she remembered that she’d been talking on her cell as she left the gallery.

Reassuring my mom that there haven’t been any more threatening emails.

Briefly, she rested her chin on her hand and gazed at the screensaver on her laptop. It was a view across the valley from the beautiful farmhouse where she had grown up. Evening sunlight glinted on the snow-covered fields of the CC Farm, while Pine Peak dominated the scene. The towering mountain provided the skiing and natural springs that made the resort such a popular tourist destination.

Normally, the tranquil scene soothed her. However, today, it made her feel restless. It was a reminder of her Colton heritage, and that was what the menacing emails had been about. Even though the anonymous sender had called her hateful names because of the color of her skin, the underlying message had gone deeper. You Coltons are only good for using and taking advantage of those who are less fortunate.

Furthermore, the sender had said that if she had any sense, she would pack her bags and head back to her life of privilege on her parents’ farm. If she didn’t? The most recent emails had included some sickening images of what would happen to her if she ignored the warnings.

Small wonder she had lost concentration and mislaid her recorder. It was a minor lapse, unimportant and only slightly inconvenient. She could remember what she needed to do today. It was just...

What did I do with it?

Pushing her chair back from the desk, she went through to her assistant’s office. The two rooms were separated by a short corridor that included a private bathroom and a small kitchen. Inside Kasey Spencer’s office, the floor on three sides was piled high with programs for the forthcoming show.

“Have you seen my digital recorder?”

Kasey looked up from the pile of papers she was collating. “No, but I can leave this and help you look for it.”

Bree shook her head. “It’s okay. I probably took it up to the loft without thinking.” Her apartment was above the gallery. “I’ll check when I grab some lunch later.”

She turned toward the door that led to the main gallery, only to be halted by Kasey’s voice. “Since you’re here...”

“Yes?”

“Rylan Bennet asked if you could spare him a few minutes,” her assistant said. “He’s in the promotions office.”

“That man spends more time here than all the other artists’ managers put together.” Bree was aware that her smile was slightly self-conscious. “He sure is dedicated.”

“Dedicated?” Kasey raised an eyebrow. “That’s a new name for it.”

Bree was tempted to ask the other woman what she meant, but it was fairly obvious, particularly since Kasey gave her a teasing look before returning to her task. So much for Bree’s speculation about whether the attraction between her and Rylan was real or just a pleasant daydream. Kasey’s words implied that her assistant had noticed it, which meant it existed outside of Bree’s imagination. The thought sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

* * *

The promotions office of the Wise Gal Gallery was a long, narrow room at the rear of the reception desk. Rylan Bennet didn’t know much about the art world, but he had soon learned that it was a luxury for visiting artists and their managers to be provided with an area of their own in which to work. He figured it was because this gallery was located in a former warehouse, where space wasn’t an issue.

Rylan seemed to be the only person involved in the prospective show who was interested in taking advantage of the hospitality provided by Bree Colton, the gallery owner. Most of the time, he had the office to himself. The situation suited him just fine, although he was aware of the curious glances directed his way by the gallery staff. They were obviously wondering what he found to do there all day, every day.

If he was going to be convincing in his role as a manager and promoter for a group of local artists, he clearly needed to work harder on his disguise. His initial goal had been to get through the door and establish contact with Bree. After all, she was the only reason he was here. But now that he had gotten to know her, he needed to maintain her trust.

Deceiving her didn’t feel comfortable to Rylan, but his old army buddy Blaine Colton had been resolute. He’d told Rylan that his kid cousin was in danger, and he needed someone he could count on to watch over her. While Blaine was in DC, getting his discharge finalized, his uncle Calvin and aunt Audrey, Bree’s parents, had contacted him.

A week ago, a gallery show at Wise Gal had been interrupted by someone throwing a brick through the full-length front window. Kendall, who was married to Decker Colton, another of Bree’s cousins, was hit in the face and seriously injured. Shaken by the incident, Bree admitted to her parents, and her brother, Trey, who was Bradford County’s sheriff, that she had been getting threatening emails. Instead of taking action, she had apparently been ignoring the problem, hoping it would go away.

Calvin and Audrey were going crazy with worry about their daughter, but according to Blaine, Bree had refused their requests to return home and stay holed up at their farm. In desperation, they had asked her cousin to find a bodyguard, someone he trusted to keep her safe. The only problem? Rylan, the person Blaine had selected to be her protector, was sworn to secrecy about his role. If Bree found out, she would point-blank refuse to let the situation continue.

Reluctantly, Rylan had agreed. Although he’d recently sold the private security consultancy he’d been running since he left the army, he had the skills and experience to watch over Bree. He also lived close to Roaring Springs. Add in the fact that he owed Blaine a few favors from their time together in Afghanistan...

The only minor difficulty had been his cover story. Fortunately, Bree’s mom had helped him out with that. Audrey Douglas Colton was an attractive African American woman, whose love for her daughter and fighting spirit shone through in equal measures. The day after Rylan had expressed his doubts about his ability to blend into an artistic setting, Audrey had called him with a solution.

“Bree’s next show is called Spirit. It’s a celebration of African American art. A friend of mine is a professor at the University of North Colorado School of Art and Design. She has a group of graduates who are looking for someone to promote their work.”

When Audrey outlined her plan for him to pose as the manager of the artists in question, Rylan had expressed his reservations. “I don’t want these people to get their hopes built up. I have nothing long term to offer them.”

“No one loses from this arrangement,” Audrey had assured him. “These young African American artists will have their work displayed in a prestigious gallery. Wise Gal is becoming very well known.” There had been a note of pride in her voice. “All I ask of you is that you do your best to promote their art to a wider audience.”

Since he was planning on being in the gallery anyway, that seemed like a reasonable request. He would have time on his hands, so he may as well use it productively. Then Rylan met Bree...and reasonable became a distant memory.

Because, for the first time in his thirty-four years, a woman had taken his breath away. He’d seen her formal picture on the gallery’s website when he had done some research. In it, she appeared cool and quirky, with a distant expression and a bohemian dress sense. In reality, she was a ray of sunshine, with a huge smile that, despite a slight shyness in her manner, quickly became a throaty laugh.

One look at Bree’s flawless golden-brown skin and amber eyes had Rylan questioning everything he thought he knew about himself. And he tumbled deeper into enchantment each time he saw her. That block of concrete in which he’d encased his heart? It might not be as impenetrable as he’d always believed.

The problem? Even if Bree felt the same way—and he thought she might—he was lying to her about who he was.

“That’s quite a frown.” Rylan looked up from his laptop screen to find Bree leaning one shoulder against the door frame as she watched him. A slight smile curved her full lips. “Anything I can help you with?”

Since he’d been studying a floor plan of the gallery, checking the entrances and exits for weak points, he snapped the lid closed and got to his feet. In an attempt to be objective, he had speculated about the possibility of getting Bree to confide in him about the emails her parents had mentioned. If she did that, he reasoned, then he could legitimately offer her his protection. Maybe that way he could get past the feeling he was a cheating, lying jerk.

He got straight to the point, not easy when all he wanted to do was gaze into the honeyed depths of her eyes. “Your mom mentioned the incident when a brick was thrown through the window.”

Bree already knew that he’d met her mother. One of Audrey’s many charitable causes was the cover for the inclusion of Rylan’s group of young artists in the show. The fact that Bree had accepted the situation without comment confirmed that her mom regularly involved her in similar activities.

Even so, he caught the shift in her expression, maybe because he was watching her so closely. Gone almost as soon as it had appeared, it was a flare that could have been annoyance or impatience.

“I should have guessed she wouldn’t be able to resist sharing that information.” She hunched a shoulder. “Actually, that’s unfair. It was a nasty incident.”

“Have the police arrested anyone?”

“No. My brother, Trey, is the sheriff. He’s been investigating, but so far he doesn’t have any leads.” Her face was troubled. “Our family has been having some problems lately.”

Blaine had alluded to this but hadn’t gone into detail. The focus of their conversation had been on what was happening with Bree. Rylan knew, of course, that Blaine’s older brother, Wyatt, had recently been investigated when the body of a young woman was found on his ranch. Things had gotten nasty when the press put a spin on the story, leading the townsfolk to believe that Wyatt was guilty and getting preferential treatment because he was a Colton and his cousin was the sheriff.

Rylan had heard that the case had been closed with all charges against Wyatt dropped. However, from the way Bree was talking, it sounded like they had problems that were about more than one family member.

“You think those issues could be linked to the attack on your gallery?” he asked.

She hesitated, and Rylan hoped she might be about to confide in him. Then she smiled. It was a little too bright, as though she could be trying hard to convince him, or maybe herself, that everything was okay. “I’m sure they’re not. And please don’t worry about the safety of the artists you represent. I’ve had the front window replaced with toughened glass, and the alarm system has been upgraded.”

The moment was lost, and Rylan bit back his frustration. Instead, he tried another approach. “I hear you’ve been working late every night.”

“You hear?” This time Bree’s smile was genuine. “Now, whoever could have told you that? Surely, Kasey, my super-discreet assistant, hasn’t been telling tales about me?”

He grinned. “Actually, I overheard her talking to the security guy. He was asking if the reason you were staying so late is because of the big event coming up. I guess that’s because he needs to know so he can ensure the place is safe during the show?”

“David?” Bree asked. “Yes, he’s very conscientious, but he doesn’t work just for me. He’s employed to provide security for several of the businesses in the Diamond. He also does maintenance work for us. He’s a busy guy.”

Rylan was a native Coloradan, but he was new to Roaring Springs. Nestled within the valley, the town, with its bustling downtown area, was surrounded by the mountains, forests and a large lake.

First settled in the late 1800s because of gold mining, it grew to be a tourist destination, then blossomed further a decade ago when the Roaring Springs Film Festival was created. Although it always had celebrity visitors, the town had become a must-see trip for A-listers and wealthy executives.

Rylan had learned that the former warehouse units on the edge of Second Street were just on the cusp of the trendy part of town. Like this gallery, the new companies were young and vibrant. Restaurants, bars, nightclubs and technology firms formed the bulk of the businesses. The area was named after the central diamond-shaped space within, where tables and chairs spilled out from the bars, coffee shops, restaurants and the Yogurt Hut.

“I hope you’re taking care of yourself.” Rylan kept his voice light and teasing, trying to avoid showing that he actually did care. “Getting plenty of sleep. Eating proper meals.”

“I’m dyslexic.” Bree said it casually, but the sidelong look she gave him told Rylan his reaction was important. “By the time I’ve read a recipe, the ingredients have gone stale.”

“You need someone to cook for you.” He tried to remember the last time he’d felt this nervous. He seriously didn’t think he ever had.

Bree’s smile held a trace of shyness. “Well, if you’re offering...”

* * *

Aware that, if she wasn’t careful, her lips had a tendency to turn up at the corners in an I-have-a date-with-a gorgeous-man smile, Bree did her best to appear brisk and levelheaded as she walked through the gallery. It wasn’t easy, because Rylan really was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He had the kind of looks that made her belly flutter, her pulse race and her thoughts stray into dangerous territory. Her first glimpse of him had made her jaw drop, and he had only improved on closer acquaintance. His hair was light blond and slightly curly, his neatly trimmed beard just a shade darker. There was something about the strong, determined lines of his face, an alertness that became more intense when she was around. His eyes were as blue as a summer sky. When they looked her way, their expression became so hot and hard it made her skin feel too tight.

He was tall and very well built. Broad in the chest and shoulders, with long, strong legs and the thickly muscled arms of a man accustomed to physical exercise. She was used to being around tough men, her brother and most of her cousins certainly fit that description, but she had never been so aware of a man’s power. Rylan’s raw masculinity made her conscious of her own femininity in a way she had never experienced before.

There was something else about him as well. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. An air of danger, mystery...and more. It felt like sorrow. He was a puzzle she couldn’t quite put together. All she knew for sure was that she wanted to try.

And he was cooking her dinner later.

Reminding herself that she was a successful businesswoman, she resisted the temptation to dance the length of the gallery. Because this was more than a date. They’d both known it as they made the arrangements. He was coming to her apartment. He was cooking her his signature dish. The night was leading somewhere...

What if he thinks I do this all the time?

Doubt hit her like a slap in the face, and she glanced over her shoulder. Maybe she should go back, talk to him, explain that she liked him, but she wasn’t very good at this whole dating thing? She bit back a groan. Here we go again.

No. She gripped the handle of her office door tightly, taking a moment to get her thoughts under control. Just because she had been burned in the past didn’t mean it was about to happen again. It was just dinner, for goodness’ sake. They were both adults. It didn’t have to lead to anything more... But she liked Rylan. A lot. What was wrong with taking a chance?

With a decisive nod, she stepped into her familiar space. She had a lot to do, starting with some calls. As she moved toward her seat, her gaze fell on the desk. There, in the center of the polished surface, was her digital recorder.

She gave an exclamation of delight and, snatching it up, hurried across the corridor to Kasey’s office. “Where did you find it?”

“Find what?” Kasey looked away from her pile of papers with a frown.

“My recorder.” Bree held it up to show her.

“Um... I didn’t. I’ve been right here since we last spoke.”

“Oh.” Bree turned the recorder over in her hand, studying it carefully. It was definitely hers. “I wonder who found it? Did you hear anyone go into my office?”

Kasey shook her head. “Maybe it was there all the time, and you just overlooked it?”

Bree knew that wasn’t the case. Yes, today had been an early start after a late night, and the caffeine had still been working its way through her system when she first reached for the recorder. But she had searched her office thoroughly. The device had not been there when she left and went to the promotions office to talk to Rylan. Which meant someone had found it and put it on her desk while she was gone.

“You could ask David to check the security cameras and see if anyone went into your office,” Kasey suggested.

Was it worth that sort of effort? Bree had her recorder back, which was the important thing, and she was too busy to take any more time out of her schedule. Besides, David Swanson, the security guard and handyman, was always running here, there and everywhere as he tried to meet the competing demands of his various employers.

Ignoring a tiny lingering doubt, Bree shrugged. “Too much to do.” She tried to make her next words sound casual. “And I don’t want to work late tonight.”

Chapter 2

Bree looked down at her empty plate with a contented sigh. After a three-course meal that would have graced the menu of the most elegant restaurants she’d visited, she regarded Rylan with newfound respect. “You are the only person I’ve met who has a signature dish that deserves the name. Where did you learn to cook?”

“I taught myself. I figured, as a single guy, I could live on takeout and microwave meals, or I could enjoy my food.”

As a single guy. The matter-of-fact statement intrigued her, made her want to ask him more questions. Why was he single? Why did he sound so sure he would stay that way?

Instead, she tilted her wine glass toward him. “The meal was a charming gesture. Thank you.”

A corner of his mouth turned upward. “I have a confession to make.”

Her heart began to beat a little faster. “You do?”

The smile deepened, quickly becoming irresistible. “I hoped you’d be charmed.”

This was where she should smile seductively. Maybe twirl her hair and bat her lashes. Even trail a finger down his bicep. The problem was, Bree didn’t do flirting. The only times she had attempted it she’d either knocked things over or came across about as sexy as a lost puppy. Since she really liked Rylan, she wasn’t going to scare him off by trying.

“Do you live in Roaring Springs?” She almost groaned out loud. Just because she didn’t flirt, did she have to turn the conversation around and make it sound like a job interview?

Rylan didn’t appear to notice. Leaning back in his chair, he stretched his long legs in front of him. Although he had drunk one glass of wine at the start of the meal, he’d switched to water because he was driving. He took a sip before he spoke. “Not quite. I was born near Denver, but I joined the army when I was eighteen. When I got out, I went into business and traveled around a lot. But I always planned to settle down in Colorado, and—” He broke off abruptly, making her wonder what he’d been about to say. “I had an army buddy who talked about his home here in Roaring Springs. When I sold the business, I found a ranch a few miles west of here.”

“You’re a rancher in your spare time?” She raised her brows at him.

He laughed. “I’m a lot of things in my spare time.”

“I can see that.” She started to count on her fingers. “Soldier. Chef. Rancher. Art promoter.”

She wasn’t sure she could pinpoint exactly what it was that changed about his manner. It was as if her words made him watchful. “I’m new to the art world. As you can probably tell.”

Bree frowned, sensing that he was closing down a line of conversation that made him uncomfortable. Since she didn’t know him well enough to prod further, she was forced to let it go. However, the knowledge that he could be hiding something nagged at her. What bothered her even more was the idea that, after knowing him for less than a week, she cared that this man might be keeping secrets.

“You said you went into the army at eighteen.” She decided on a different approach. “Didn’t you come back to visit your family between then and now?”

He hunched a shoulder. “There was no one to visit. I’m an only child. My father died when I was twelve, and cancer took my mom just before I enlisted.”

Bree sensed a whole world of pain behind those words. Reaching across the table, she took his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He responded with a slight smile. “I’m thirty-four. Being on my own is what I do best.”

“Coming from such a large extended family, I can’t imagine how that would feel.”

Rylan looked around the spacious, elegantly furnished loft apartment. “I guess being a Colton has its advantages.” It was the same assumption many people made, but somehow it hurt more coming from him. As Bree made a movement to withdraw her hand, Rylan tightened his grip. “Hey.” His gaze scanned her face. “What did I say?”

Usually, she avoided explanations, but his opinion mattered. “Thanks to my mom’s tenacity, my dyslexia was diagnosed early. I went to a public school for pupils with learning disabilities, not a private school. Our parents wanted to keep us grounded, so they made sure Trey and I had chores on the farm. I grew up loved and cherished, but I was taught that working hard, not money, is the key to success.” She cleared her throat. “So when I wanted to pursue art as a career, my mom and dad were unsure if I was capable of meeting the academic demands of a college course. To show them what I could do, I paid my own way through art school with a series of side jobs.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I came into my inheritance on my twenty-fifth birthday. I’m now twenty-seven.” She waved a hand to indicate her surroundings. “The gallery, my business, my reputation, this apartment... You think I achieved all that in just over two years?”

“Bree, I’m sorry.” Rylan caught hold of her free hand, stopping it from fluttering. He held both her hands in a strong, warm clasp. “I jumped to an incorrect conclusion, and I’ve offended you.”

She exhaled slowly. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. I overreacted. Sometimes the name Colton can be a burden.”

He bent his head, grazing the knuckles of her right hand lightly with his lips. The action sent pleasurable little bursts of heat shimmering along her nerve endings. “Tell me what you did.”

“Hmm?” She’d been too focused on the sensation of his mouth on her flesh to concentrate on the words.

“How did you build up your business before you came into your inheritance?”

“Oh?” Were they still on that topic? “Even in art school, I was selling my own work for really good prices. I used the proceeds to buy new pieces, and before long, I was getting great returns on my investments.”

He raised his brows in acknowledgment of her achievement and she allowed herself a little smile of pleasure.

“I was also making a name for myself in the art world, showcasing my own work and that of other African American artists. That was how Wise Gal was born. When it came to finding a site for the gallery, real estate in the Diamond was low in price with incentives for new businesses, so it was the obvious place.”

Rylan smiled. “Wise Gal? I figured it was a joke, but I can see it has a deeper meaning for you.”

Bree nodded, pleased at his understanding. “Growing up in a family of overachievers was hard. I didn’t make those childhood milestones on time and, as a consequence, felt like I was always running faster than my cousins just to keep up.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “While my family was worrying about me, I was always aware that being different is an important part of who I am. I don’t necessarily see my dyslexia as a gift, but I believe it is linked to my creativity. It may sound corny, but I feel my artistic vision is stronger than my ability to see characters on a page.”

The way Rylan was looking at her made her breath catch in her throat. “That’s a very inspiring way to view your condition.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you heard my language when I try to read without text-to-speech software,” she said. “But to return to your comment about the gallery name... Yes, it’s a play on words. I may not be a wise gal in the traditional sense, but the little Colton cousin who couldn’t speak in sentences until she was nearly five hasn’t done too badly.”

“I’d say you’ve done very well.” Rylan’s voice was deep and smooth, like cream poured over chocolate. It made her insides melt.

Conscious that she was gazing into his eyes and clutching his hands as if she might never let go, Bree roused herself from her trance. “Let’s take the dishes through to the kitchen, and I’ll load the machine.” Reluctantly, she stood. “The least I can do is take charge of the clean-up operation.”

She was smiling up at him as she got to her feet, but the smile faded when he rose with her. His nearness was a dangerous reminder of an attraction that could easily spin out of control. With only inches between them, desire rippled through her, driving the breath from her lungs. She saw an answering flare in the depths of Rylan’s eyes.

For an instant, his gaze hooked her and held her, refusing to let her go. Then he blinked, and the spell was broken.

“I’ll make coffee.” His voice was slightly husky. “Point me in the direction of your machine.”

“Follow me.” Bree carried their plates through to the open-plan kitchen. “I was out of coffee, but I got some from the store at lunch time.” She indicated a cabinet above the coffeemaker. “The new pack is in there.”

As she bent to open the dishwasher, she heard Rylan searching through the shelves. After a minute or two, he closed the door. “I can’t find the coffee.”

Bree straightened. “Are you one of those guys like my dad?” she teased. “If it doesn’t jump out at you the first time, you just give up?”

“Ahem.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come and find it for me, wise gal.”

Chuckling, Bree went to stand beside him. Since she knew exactly where she had placed the coffee, she suspected this was a ruse to get her close to him. If so, she was happy to play along.

Except...where was the coffee? She turned her head, frowning at Rylan over her shoulder. “It was right here.” She indicated the empty spot on the shelf where she had placed the new pack of coffee beans earlier that day.

“Hey.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “It’s not a problem. There’s an all-night convenience store on Second Street, right? I can just—”

“It’s not that.” She stopped biting her lip long enough to blurt out what was bothering her. “This has happened twice today.”

His grip tightened slightly. “You’ve already lost your coffee once before now?” Although the words were light, his gaze was intent.

“No.” Quickly, Bree told him about the incident with her recorder. She brought her hands up across her body to grip her forearms. “I think of my brain as a filing cabinet. Because I’m dyslexic, the drawers weren’t labeled properly when I was born. That means I have to be extra organized. If I’m not, I can file something in the wrong drawer and lose it forever. I don’t make mistakes like this.”

“You’re under a lot of pressure with a big show coming up,” Rylan reminded her.

She tilted her chin. “I accepted what happened with the recorder as a mistake on my part for just that reason. Maybe I mislaid it, and someone found it and returned it to my office. But this?” She gestured to the empty space in the cupboard. “I know I bought coffee, and I know I put it right there.”

“Does anyone else have a key to your apartment?” Rylan asked.

“Only my mother, but why would she come down here without telling me just to move my coffee?” The question struck her as so ridiculous that she had to bite back a laugh, even though she didn’t find the situation remotely amusing. Could she actually be losing her mind?

“I don’t want to alarm you, but this is classic stalking behavior.”

“Is it?” Bree wrinkled her brow. “How do you know that?”

There was a momentary pause before he answered. “I must have read it somewhere. The stalker moves, damages or hides the victim’s belongs. It unnerves her, making her think she’s imagining things. Has anything else been happening lately that could be linked to this?”

She swayed toward him slightly, her mind on the emails. Was it possible the two things were related? She instinctively trusted Rylan, but she barely knew him. Did she really want to start sharing secrets with him?

* * *

Tell me about the emails, Bree.

For a second, Rylan thought she might be about to open up to him. Then she gave him that too-bright smile and he knew it wasn’t going to happen. Had he blown it with his comment about stalking? The words had left his lips before he’d thought them through. Even though he regretted them now, the comparison was accurate. In his work as a private security consultant, Rylan had protected several celebrities who’d been threatened by obsessive fans. He knew most of the tactics.

Although he hadn’t seen the emails, he was convinced this was the start of some low-level scare tactics. He was willing to bet the coffee would turn up again in a day or two, in the exact place Bree had left it. The person who was doing this would be close by, observing her confusion and distress, enjoying the impact of his actions. The biggest problem was that Rylan knew from experience that most stalkers weren’t content to stick with the minor stuff. Having fixated on Bree, this guy would soon be planning something bigger and bolder.

She’d said that the only person who had access to her apartment was her mom. Although Bree might try to brush this aside as a forgetful episode, Rylan wasn’t convinced. Which meant someone other than Audrey was able to get into Bree’s home. He didn’t want to frighten her, but the image of a shadowy figure slipping into her bedroom while she was asleep chilled his blood.

“You should change your locks.”

Bree blinked. “You seriously think someone came in here?”

“You told me your family has been having a few problems. A brick was thrown through the gallery window a week ago. Your recorder and coffee going missing may be unconnected.” He became aware that his hands were still on her shoulders, and he slid them slowly down to her upper arms. “But it couldn’t hurt to tighten up your personal security.”

Her perfect white teeth caught briefly on the plump cushion of her lower lip, and everything Rylan knew about himself started to unravel. Tough. Professional. In control. In that moment, he was none of those things. All he wanted to do was wrap Bree up and protect her from anything that could cause her harm.

Could he really have developed such strong feelings for a woman he barely knew? He almost laughed out loud. There was no “could have” about it. The first time he had seen Bree, he had been rocked by an emotion so tender, wild and all-consuming, he knew his life had changed. Turning his back on her now wasn’t an option, even though he was terrified by what was happening to him.

Rylan didn’t do vulnerability. The son of an alcoholic, abusive father and a downtrodden mother, his early life had been about dodging the blows—physical and emotional. Although his father’s death freed him from fear, the damage had been done. Worthless. Weak. Cry baby. Mommy’s boy. He’d spent the rest of his life fighting those labels. Now he’d met Bree and, for the first time, his iron control had snapped.

Was he prepared to give his feelings a name beyond heady physical desire? After all, he had known her less than a week. As for how much he wanted her... Rylan had never known it was possible to feel this way. His whole body was humming with awareness of her. It was so intense that he was waging a constant internal fight to stop himself from saying to hell with the disguise. For once in his life, maybe he should forget he was a stand-up guy. Just follow his instincts, lean in closer and taste those pink parted lips...

With an effort, he forced his attention back to the subject at hand. “Your brother is the sheriff of Bradford County. Why not ask his advice?”

The corners of her mouth turned down. “I love Trey very much, but I don’t want him marching in here in full-on overprotective-big-brother mode. Not when I don’t even know if there’s a problem.”

Rylan shoved a hand through his hair. He could see why her parents were half-crazy with worry about her. There was a problem, but Bree was determined not to face it. Since he wasn’t supposed to know about the emails, he couldn’t use them as evidence that she was in danger. Instead, all he had was the brick through the gallery window and the possibility that someone was moving her property.

Rylan was like a man caught between two fires. His determination to protect her was stronger than ever. It was no longer a favor to Blaine. This was all about Bree. But if he was going to guard her properly, he had to stick close. And that meant enduring more of this agony.

As Bree reached up a tentative hand and stroked his cheek, her touch hit the center of his chest, making his heart beat faster. It also connected with another point, one south of his belt buckle.

Her smile was shy. “The meal was delicious.”

Catching a hold of her wrist, he dropped a kiss onto her palm. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

As she rose on the tips of her toes to move closer, Rylan sensed her nervousness. “Is it over?”

He almost groaned aloud. This was the worst kind of torture. Clasping her hands to his chest, he pressed his lips lightly to the corner of her mouth. “I have to go. I’m needed at the ranch.” He didn’t feel good about the lie but consoled himself that it was necessary.

“Oh.” Her eyelids fluttered, long lashes shadowing her cheeks. “Of course, you have animals to care for.”

She was probably picturing a traditional ranch with cattle or horses. Since she was unlikely to ever visit his home, there was no reason for Rylan to explain that the reality was very different. Even so, his lips quirked into a smile at the thought of his assortment of misfits.

Bree’s golden eyes scanned his face. Apparently satisfied at what she saw—he was fairly sure there was no hiding the regret he was feeling—she gave a tiny nod. “I can’t cook, but maybe I can take you out to dinner to return the favor?”

His smile widened. “I’d like that. A lot.”

She reached up and hooked a hand behind his neck, pulling his face down until they were nose-to-nose. With her breath fanning his lips, her voice was barely a whisper. “So would I.”

When she kissed him, she tasted of the strawberries and melon they’d eaten for dessert. Her lips were deliciously sweet, tender and warm on his, and as their mouths parted and tongues entwined, his thoughts shut down. All he could smell was Bree’s light floral perfume. All he could hear was her cotton skirt rustling against his jeans. All he could feel was the heat of their bodies and how good she felt in his arms.

Breaking that kiss was like a physical pain, but he couldn’t let things go any further. “I really do have to go.” Bree looked slightly dazed as she walked with him to the door. “Make sure you lock this behind me.”

She laughed. “You’ve met my mom, right?”

Where was this going? Had he given something away? Cautiously, he nodded. “Yes.”

“Locking my door at night is one of her obsessions. That and eating plenty of fiber.”

He grinned. “I’ll settle for the door.”

When it was closed, he waited until he heard the lock click into place before making his way down the stairs that led to the parking lot at the side of the Diamond. Bree might be careless with her personal security, but Rylan knew she would be safe for the rest of the night. How could he be sure? Because he would be hunkered down in his car, watching over her apartment until daybreak.

Chapter 3

Dawn was turning the summit of Pine Peak gold when Rylan eased his body into a more upright position. Although he hadn’t been expecting to spend the night in his vehicle, years of conducting surveillance had taught him to be prepared for any eventuality. As well as his licensed firearm, he had an overnight bag with toiletries and a change of clothes in the trunk. He also carried bottled water and snacks. Since the temperature had dropped below freezing, the items he had been most grateful for were a warm blanket and his woolen beanie.

Turning his head from side to side, Rylan attempted to ease the tightness in his neck muscles. The view through his windshield was of the Wise Gal Gallery with Bree’s apartment above it. To the rear, the mountains were slowly being revealed by the rising sun. The streetlights of Second Street curved away to his right. To his left, across the empty parking lot, the Diamond was still in darkness.

He shifted his body to face forward and a flicker caught his attention. Barely a movement, it was enough to have him diving out of the car and running toward the gallery. As he approached the entrance, he heard a soft groan from the base of the stairs that led to Bree’s apartment.

Rylan bit back a curse as he measured the distance to his vehicle and weighed his options. Return to get his weapon from the trunk and risk an intruder getting up those steps? Or remain unarmed and take his chances?

Another groan, clearly the sound of someone in pain, took the decision out of his hands. Cautiously, he moved forward. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he was able to make out the shape of a person lying on the floor.

Dropping to his knees, Rylan withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and activated the flashlight. Its beam revealed a large man wearing a security guard uniform. Although he was lying on his back on the concrete, the guy raised an arm to shield his eyes from the light.

“Where are you hurt?” Rylan tried to remember what Bree had said the guard’s name was. Swanick? Swinson? Swanson. That was it. David Swanson.

“Hit my head.” David struggled into a sitting position. “Low-life pushed me as he ran past.”

“Take it easy.” Rylan hooked an arm under his shoulders and eased him backward until he was leaning against the wall. “I’ll call 911.”

“No.” The other man raised a hand and felt the back of his head. “The skin isn’t broken. There’s hardly even a lump.”

Rylan wasn’t convinced. “You can’t be too careful with a head injury.”

“I know the drill.” David gave a shaky laugh. “If I get any severe headaches, blurred vision or dizziness, I’ll see a doctor.”

“What happened?” Rylan asked. “Have you been on duty all night?” If so, David had been slacking. Rylan hadn’t seen him patrolling the area.

David winced as he shook his head. “I start work at seven. Even though the sun doesn’t come up until about six forty-five at this time of year, I always follow the same routine. My apartment is over the Yogurt Hut.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the Diamond. “When I leave home, I check the perimeter of the parking lot before I go into the gallery and sign in.”

Rylan frowned. At this time of year, David would need to use a flashlight to do his first patrol. He was certain he’d have observed any signs of light or movement. “I was in my vehicle, but I didn’t see you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” There was a trace of bitterness in the security guard’s voice. “As soon as I stepped out of my apartment, I saw someone heading toward the gallery.”

Rylan tried to picture the scene. Was it likely that David could have noticed someone he had missed? It was a possibility. The Yogurt Hut was in the far left corner of the Diamond at a point just on the periphery of what Rylan was able to see from where he had been sitting in his car. Although he had taken time to observe each angle at regular intervals, he didn’t have his surveillance equipment. Consequently, a constant 360-degree view had not been available to him.

Even though the thought chilled him, he accepted that the other man could have seen something he hadn’t. “What made you suspicious?” he asked. “Couldn’t it have been someone like you, just heading to work?”

“Like I said, I do this every morning. No one is around at this time. When I saw the guy approaching the gallery, I was even more surprised since Bree doesn’t open the doors until about eight thirty most mornings. As I caught up with him, what really shook me was that he was heading for these stairs. The only place that can be accessed from here is Bree’s apartment, and why would anyone be sneaking around before it’s fully light?”

“Did you get a look at him?” Rylan asked.

“No. He had a hood pulled up, hiding his face. When I challenged him, and asked what he was doing here, he shoved me. That’s when I fell back and hit my head,” David said. “While I was lying on the ground, he ran off.”

“Bree said the security systems were updated after the recent attack. Are there cameras?”

“Not here. The closed-circuit TV is focused on the front of the gallery. There won’t be any footage of this incident.” David sat up straighter, directing a curious look at Rylan “Why are you here so early?”

It was time to think fast. Rylan couldn’t guarantee that he hadn’t been seen during his overnight vigil. He may as well tell the truth, even if he invented a reason.

“Engine trouble.” He grimaced. “Had to spend the night in my vehicle.”

“That was a cruel bit of luck.” Staggering slightly, David made an effort to get to his feet. Rylan gripped his elbow, supporting him until he was able to remain steady. “Couldn’t you get a tow?”

Rylan ignored the question. “Let’s go into the gallery. I’ll make you a drink and we can call the police.”

Although David took out his keys as he accompanied Rylan toward the huge glass doors, he didn’t seem to think much of that suggestion. “There’s nothing to tell them.”

“This guy was on his way up to Bree’s apartment.” Once they were inside the foyer, Rylan leaned on the reception counter while David deactivated the alarm. “That needs to be logged. What if he comes back and reaches his destination next time?”

Even as he made the comment that caused his blood to run cold, his analytical brain was assessing the situation. If Bree was the intended target, the timing was odd. Why not try to get to her during the night instead of waiting until dawn? Unfortunately, the only person who could answer that question would be the stalker himself.

They went through to the staff kitchen. While Rylan fixed coffee, David went to the first-aid locker in search of painkillers.

When they were seated at a table, Rylan studied the other man thoughtfully. David was only of average height, but his physique was powerful. “Boxing? Or MMA?”

David gave an appreciative grin. “A little of both. Although I don’t have much time these days.” He returned the measuring glance. “You?”

Rylan laughed. “I boxed a little when I first joined the army. Now, the only fights I get into are with a temperamental donkey.” Aware of the other man’s look of surprise, he shook his head. “Long story. At least we know one thing about your attacker.”

David paused in the act of sipping his coffee. “We do?”

“If he knocked you over, he must be a big guy.”

The security guard shrugged. “He caught me by surprise. I didn’t get a sense of his size.”

Frustrated by the lack of information, Rylan held up his cell phone. “You want me to call the police?”

“Please.” David showed him a trembling hand. “I’m still shaken up.”

It was only as he began to relay the details of the incident to a dispatcher that Rylan realized he was doing the very thing Bree didn’t want. He knew enough about her to be aware of how much she valued her privacy. He could already hear her skepticism. There was no proof that the guy who pushed David had intended to harm her. Was he letting his protectiveness toward her override his common sense? Definitely. Where she was concerned, he would choose caution every time.

He only hoped she would see his point of view.

* * *

Although Bree went through her morning routine in her usual first-light daze, a new awareness forced its way through the brain fog. Her body was on high alert, moving fast instead of dawdling, conspiring to get her out of the apartment and into work faster. Why? The answer to that was easy. Because Rylan would be at the gallery.

She had always believed there was a possibility the bad-relationship fairy had been present at her birth. A few months into her first serious relationship, she had realized that the man who had sworn undying love was actually more interested in the Colton money. That could have been bad luck. However, when it happened a second time, she started questioning her judgment and eventually came to the conclusion that dating was not for her

Being out of that whole relationship loop hadn’t bothered her. Right now, she was too focused on her career. Maybe she’d feel differently in a few years when her biological clock started ticking. That was what she’d told herself. And it had been true. Until now.

Although she had initiated last night’s earth-shattering kiss, Rylan had still left. It would have been easy to have woken this morning feeling dispirited and spurned. Instead, she felt curiously optimistic. She had made her feelings plain. She had suspected all along that Rylan felt the same and his response to the kiss confirmed it.

After he’d gone, she’d indulged in some lengthy analysis of his behavior, while also reliving the heady sensation of his lips on hers. By walking away instead of taking things a step further, was he saying she meant more than a quick fling? The thought made her shiver with pleasure.

I hope so. Because he already meant so much more to her. There. The thought was out there. Scary but true.

After showering, she studied her hair in the mirror. She loved her curls, but they could be rebellious. They definitely needed to be kept in their place when she was working. Giving her hair a quick all-over spritz with her favorite macadamia oil product, she pulled her wild locks back into a ruthlessly tight braid.

When Bree purchased this property, she’d had a walk-in closet built. Her father had laughed and asked how long it would be before she needed another one. As she rifled through the overflowing rails, she realized Calvin Colton had been right. She either needed more space, or she would have to part with some of her precious vintage treasures. But how would she choose which of her 1950s cocktail dresses or rock-chick biker jackets to give away?

She pulled on black leggings, a short floral dress and knee-high brown boots. Over the top, she layered a long Scandinavian knit jacket in bright geometric blocks and twisted a contrasting scarf loosely around her neck. Moisturizing sunscreen, a touch of lip gloss, a spray of perfume, and she was a splash of color dashing past the mirror next to her front door.

Two minutes later, she regarded the man seated behind her desk with a wary expression. “I’m always pleased to see you, Trey. I also know how busy you are, so I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”

Her brother grinned. “Most people start with good morning. How are things with you, sis? Still struggling to decide which you hate most...morning or anchovies?”

“The answer depends on whether I’m listening to my alarm clock or ordering pizza.” Bree flopped into the chair opposite him. “Seriously, why are you here?”

His expression became serious. “We got a report of a person behaving suspiciously close to these premises just before seven a.m. A security guard...” He checked his notes. “A guy named Swanson was attacked.”

Bree jerked upright. “David? Is he okay?”

“Fine. He had a fright, but he wasn’t seriously injured. He’s already back at work.” Her brother leaned forward with his hands clasped on the desk. “What bothers me is that Swanson thought the intruder was intending to climb the steps to your apartment.”

A cold trickle of fear tracked its way down Bree’s spine. She pushed it aside, frowning over the vagueness of Trey’s statement. “David thought that was his intention? A minor injury and the suspicion that a man may have been planning to climb the stairs to my apartment? Was that really the most pressing item on your schedule this morning, Trey?”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “I wanted to check and make sure you were okay. The guy who called this in—”

She held up a hand. “I thought David Swanson called you?”

“No.” He consulted his notes. “The 911 dispatcher spoke to a Rylan Bennet.”

Bree rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was early. She was caffeine deprived and Trey’s presence had taken her by surprise. That must be why nothing was making sense. Because why would Rylan be here before the gallery opened?

“You know him?” Trey was watching her closely. Nothing escaped her brother.

“He manages a group of artists who are taking part in my next show. Mom introduced him to me.”

The Audrey Colton seal of approval acted like a charm, and Trey relaxed back into his chair. “Since I’m here, help me out. It’s only been a week since someone threw a brick through the gallery window. You’ve been getting threatening emails. So far, I don’t have any leads on who is responsible. Has anything happened since to make you feel uncomfortable?”

Thoughts of her recorder and coffee being moved flashed through her mind, but she suppressed them. If Trey found out she was being harassed, she would be transported back to her childhood. He would be the big, strong brother and she would be in his shadow once again. She loved him, but she didn’t want to hand control of her life over to him. Not unless she was forced to.

A tiny voice at the back of her mind asked the question, Shouldn’t Trey be the one to decide? If the strange incidents were linked to the broken window, and now this attack on David, wasn’t it time to confide in the sheriff? A second voice spoke up, drowning out the first. What if they aren’t linked?

“Bree?” Trey’s prompt brought her back down to earth. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No.” She looked him up and down. “But there is something I need to ask you.”

He raised his brows. “Ask away.”

“Why am I on the wrong side of my desk?”

Laughing, Trey got to his feet. When he held out his arms, Bree rose and was enveloped in a hug that lifted her off her feet.

When he released her, Trey gave her a long look. “You’d tell me if there was a problem?”

“I’d tell you if there was something you could help me with.”

He frowned. “That’s not the same thing.”

She patted his cheek. “It’s all you’re getting. Now scoot. I have work to do.”

“Unfortunately, so do I.” He turned reluctantly toward the door. “How about lunch next week?”

“As long as you’re buying, it’s a date.” Bree waited for him to close the door before she sank into her chair. Almost immediately, the dance music ringtone on her cell phone signaled an incoming call. A glance at the display showed her Rylan’s name.

She didn’t bother with a greeting. “I need to speak to you.”

“Do you like dogs?”

The question threw her off balance. “What do you mean?”

“Dogs, wise gal. You know. Four legs. Tails that wag. Make a noise called barking. Do you like them?”

“Yes, but...”

“Good. Come out to the parking lot.”

She started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. What was going on? Feeling as if she’d entered a parallel universe, Bree left her office and walked the length of the gallery.

All this, and I still haven’t had my first cup of coffee.

When she stepped outside, two things hit her. One was the chill breeze. The other was Rylan’s magnetism. Dressed in jeans, boots and a worn leather jacket, he was leaning against the hood of his car. The smile that lit his eyes when he saw her did something wicked to her insides.

Bree didn’t return the smile. She wasn’t here to be charmed. Since the last time she’d seen him, he’d somehow gotten involved in the incident with David, and he’d just given her an order. She wasn’t sure she liked either of those circumstances.

A slight frown creased her brow as she crossed the distance between them. “What do you want, Rylan? I have a lot to do today.”

The blue of his eyes darkened, like clouds crossing a summer sky. “Hey. What is this?”

“My brother told me you called in the attack on David.” Although she let him take her hands, she didn’t return his grip. “Why were you here before the gallery opened this morning?”

He hesitated for a few seconds. “I slept in my car last night. I told David it was because I had engine trouble. That wasn’t the real reason.”

Bree felt as though her world was spinning further off course with every passing second. “What was the real reason?”

“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

When her family became overprotective, Bree bristled and fought back. It was a reaction to her childhood, when her parents had tried too hard to shield her from the effects of her dyslexia. However, in this instance, instead of Rylan’s admission provoking a similar response in her, it made her feel warm and comforted. Swaying toward him, she rested her forehead on his chest.

After a moment or two, he ducked his head to get a look at her face. “Are we okay?”

She nodded. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

The look he gave her was charged with so much electricity it almost threw her backward. Any doubts she may have had about his sincerity were gone. “Believe me, I did.”

How could she begin to explain it to him? No, Rylan, you didn’t. Because you had a place to stay. In my apartment. In my bed...

Changing the subject was probably a good idea. “Why were you in such a hurry to get me out here?”

“I wanted you to meet someone.”

Bree’s emotions went on a new roller coaster ride as he strode toward the passenger side of his car. Someone? After a minute or two, he returned with a leash attached to...a large mop.

“What is it?” She stared at the creature in fascination.

Rylan laughed. “This is Papadum. He’s a komondor, a Hungarian sheepdog.”

“I can’t tell which end is which,” Bree said.

“Well, they perform very different functions.” Rylan lifted the dog’s long corded bangs so Bree could see his eyes. The other end of the animal wagged. “I wouldn’t recommend getting them mixed up.”

Laughing, she stroked Papadum’s head. The wagging increased. “Papadum? Were you craving Asian food when you named him?”

“He was abandoned. The owner of an Indian restaurant found him in a dumpster when he took the trash out one night.”

“How sad.” Bree stooped to hug Papadum and the dog licked her cheek.

“See, you figured out the right end,” Rylan quipped. “That could have gone horribly wrong if you hadn’t.”

“Rylan!” Bree gave a choke of laughter. “Your dog is lovely, but why is he here?”

“Ah.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “I thought you might like to borrow him.”

Chapter 4

Bree was regarding Rylan as if he’d gone mad. “You thought I might like to borrow your dog?”

“Hear me out.” From the look on her face, the outcome hung in the balance. Although she appeared bemused, there was a definite flash of something more dangerous in the golden depths of her eyes. “Papadum may look like Mother Nature’s idea of a joke, but he’s a great guard dog. He’s calm with strong protective instincts. He would defend his family with his life.”

“Apart from the fact that I don’t need protection, I live in an apartment and work long hours.” Bree looked at the dog, who was sitting between them, his dreadlocks stirring in the breeze. “Papadum is big. He looks like he needs plenty of exercise.”

“That’s where I come in. Bring him to the gallery each day and I’ll take him for walks.” She was still viewing him with suspicion. “And you’ll be doing me a huge favor.”

“How?” The single word was hardly encouraging.

“I have a number of rescue dogs. I’ve just taken in a new guy, and he’s unsettled the dynamics. Papadum could use some space from all the drama.” It was a white lie. Papadum was the most laid-back dog in the world. He wasn’t part of the problem, but Rylan figured Bree didn’t need to know that. “Plus, you get to hang out with the coolest canine in town.”

The dog chose that moment to wave one mop-like paw in Bree’s direction. “See?” Rylan said. “Papadum thinks it’s a good idea.”

“Why do I feel like I’m being manipulated? By both of you?” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll give it a trial. Two days. If it doesn’t work out, Papadum goes home with you.”

Rylan resisted the impulse to punch the air in celebration. Papadum would take better care of her than any sophisticated alarm system. “It’s a deal.”

“What does he eat?” Bree asked.

“That’s a whole other conversation.” He handed her Papadum’s leash. “We can talk about it later when we decide where you’re taking me for dinner.”

Before she could reply, a car pulled up next to Rylan’s.

“Clearly, I am not meant to get any work done today.” Although the words were spoken under her breath, the smile on Bree’s face was genuine as she stepped forward to greet the woman who emerged from the vehicle. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning, Mom.”

Audrey Douglas Colton was an attractive African American woman in her early sixties. She had medium brown skin, short dark brown hair with a hint of gray and glowing golden-brown eyes. It was obvious that Bree got her stunning looks from her mother.

“I had half an hour to spare before my volunteer shift at the community hub.” Audrey kissed her daughter’s cheek before turning to survey the dog. “Oh, my. Isn’t this amazing? What is it?”

“It’s a dog. His name is Papadum. He’s going to be staying with me for a while.”

Audrey’s gaze met Rylan’s for a second. He read the question in her eyes. This is your doing? He answered with a brief nod, and saw her features relax. Anything that kept her daughter safe was fine by her.

Bree linked her arm through her mom’s and steered her toward the gallery. “Believe it or not, I haven’t had coffee yet.”

Audrey looked shocked. “Are you ill?”

Bree laughed. “Just busy.”

Rylan held the door open for them. “I’ll leave you ladies now.”

“Oh, please join us.” Audrey placed a hand on his arm. “I’d love to know how my student protégés are getting on.”

He followed them toward Bree’s office with a feeling of disquiet. He liked Audrey a lot, but he wasn’t a good enough actor to sustain lengthy questioning on the subject of African American art. He hoped she’d remember he was a bodyguard playing a role and go easy on him.

Bree ducked into her assistant’s office to request coffee. From the squeals of delight that ensued, Rylan figured Papadum was having an impact on Kasey.

When they went into her office, Bree released the dog from his leash. Papadum immediately commenced a detailed inspection of the room. Bree took a seat at her desk and gestured toward two other chairs before turning to her mom. “How’s Dad?”

“Oh, you know. Worrying about the farm, as usual. While the rest of the Colton family is celebrating the unseasonably cold weather because it means the ski season could be extended, Calvin is concerned about the impact on his animals.”

“To be fair, that is his job,” Bree said.

Audrey’s smile was mischievous. “I know. But when I want him to admire the winter wonderland outside the farmhouse, it ruins the effect if he says, I wonder if I should move the calves to the south barn.”

Kasey entered at that moment, carrying a tray laden with mugs of coffee, cream, sugar and a plate of cookies. Rylan rose to help her, and she smiled gratefully as he took her burden from her and placed it on the desk. When he returned to his seat, both Bree and Audrey were staring down at the tray. While Audrey’s expression was one of surprise, Bree’s was more like shock.

“Aren’t those the cups Nonnie gave you?” Audrey asked. The bright hand-painted cups depicted a variety of different animals.

“Yes.” There was a hollow note to Bree’s voice that Rylan didn’t like.

“I didn’t know you’d started using them.”

“I haven’t. I wouldn’t.” Bree turned to look at Kasey. “Where did you get these from?”

“They were in the kitchen next door. I thought you must have bought them to brighten the place up.” Kasey looked bewildered. “Is there something wrong?”

Even though she smiled at her assistant, Rylan could tell Bree’s expression was forced. “It’s not a problem. Thank you for the drinks.”

When Kasey had gone, Audrey turned to Bree. “Care to share?”

In the instant before she answered, Bree flashed a glance in Rylan’s direction. It was a plea. Work with me. In response, he pressed his knee lightly against hers beneath the desk. Her shoulders relaxed slightly.

“I know what must have happened,” Bree said. “I was sorting out my own artwork for the show. At the same time, I’d been cleaning out the display shelf where I keep Nonnie’s cups. Nonnie was my mom’s mother,” she explained to Rylan. “She was also the person from whom I inherited my artistic ability. When I was a child, she painted this set of cups for me. They’re too precious to use.”

“They’re beautiful.” Rylan admired one of the intricate hand-painted pieces.

“The box containing the pieces from the shelf in my apartment must have somehow gotten mixed up with one of the boxes containing my paintings.” Bree turned to Audrey with a shrug. “It’s easily done when everyone is so busy.”

Audrey’s shrewd gaze assessed her daughter for a moment or two. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

Bree gave her a look of near-perfect innocence. “What do you mean?”

Audrey pursed her lips and shook her head. Glancing at her watch, she picked up her tote. “Lucky for you, I have to go or I’ll be late for my shift.” She got to her feet and stooped to kiss Bree’s cheek. “Work on that story before we meet again, loved one. It has more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese.”

After she’d gone, Bree gave a little sigh. “I hate lying to her.”

“Don’t worry,” Rylan said. “She didn’t believe you.”

Bree gave a little laugh. “I had almost convinced myself that the coffee-thing, like the recorder, was due to my own absent-mindedness. But this?” She gently touched one of the cups. “There’s no mistaking this.”

“Someone is sending you a message,” Rylan said tersely, “and it isn’t a pleasant one.” When she raised her eyes to his, he could see the fear in their depths. “It’s time to tell me all of it, Bree.”

She nodded. “Not here. Do you like Thai food?”

He raised her hand to his lips. “You just found my weakness.”

She turned to look at Papadum, who had fallen asleep and looked like a large, unusual rug. “AppeThaizer allows dogs. I’ll make reservations for seven o’clock.”

“Okay.” Rylan got to his feet. “I’ll be in the promotions office if you need me.”

When he reached the door, he turned back to look at her. She was already reaching into her desk, but there was a crease between her brows that troubled him. He wanted to go to her and smooth it away. More than anything, he wanted to tell her that he was there to protect her.

Once Bree knew he was deceiving her, their closeness would be over. That scared him more than the shadowy figure who was threatening her. He could deal with the external danger, but he honestly didn’t know if he could cope with having to watch Bree walk away.

* * *

I should have smashed those cups and used the pieces to slice your pretty face.

The voice Bree had chosen for her text-to-speech software was light and female. Most of the time, she found it soothing. Whenever she converted one of the threatening emails to speech and listened to it, the gentle tones somehow made the words even more frightening.

She gripped the edge of the desk with both hands, feeling as though a pillow was being pressed over her mouth and nose. Enough air was getting through to enable her to breathe. Just. But she was fighting to function. Each thought took a huge amount of effort.

She couldn’t ignore this any longer. This time there was a direct link between the emails and the person moving her belongings.

Rylan. Every instinct urged her to go to him. Relief flooded her veins at the thought of his strong, reassuring presence. She was halfway out of her seat when the alarm on her cell phone buzzed.

“Two o’clock appointment.” This voice was different. Robotic and mechanical. She’d set the reminder for ten minutes before her meeting with Lucas Brewer, the lighting engineer she employed for her shows.

Biting back an exclamation of annoyance, she headed for the hall. Papadum, who had been snoring like a freight train for most of the day, decided to accompany her.

“I guess you must be thirsty, big guy.” Bree patted the end that didn’t wag.

Pausing in the kitchen, she found a bowl and filled it with water. Leaving Papadum to the noisiest drinking she had ever heard, she went into the bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed her worst fears. She looked flustered and wan at the same time. Splashing cold water on her face helped a little. A fresh spray of perfume and a new application of lip gloss restored a little more normality. With a nod at her reflection, she returned to her office to collect the documents for her meeting.

“Oh, my goodness!” She gazed at Papadum in horror. “What happened to you?”

The dog was seated next to her desk. Long frothy strands hung from his jowls. He made a soft moaning sound.

Since Rylan was at the opposite end of the building, Bree decided to call him. “Papadum is foaming at the mouth.”

“I’m on my way.”

Bree ducked into Kasey’s office. “Tell Lucas I’ve been delayed.” She thrust a file at her assistant. “Here’s the lighting specification. I’ll be with him as soon as I can.”

She returned to her office and sat on the floor next to Papadum, stroking his back. The dog hiccupped miserably. Rylan arrived a few minutes later.

“I don’t know what happened,” Bree told him. “I gave him a drink and left him alone in the kitchen for a few minutes. When I got back, he was like this.”

He knelt next to Papadum. To Bree’s surprise, he sniffed the dog’s breath. “Do you by any chance use lemon-scented soap in your kitchen?”

“Um...yes.”

Rylan pried Papadum’s jaws open and gently shook the dog’s head. A bar of soap fell out of his mouth and onto the rug. “Yeah. That was one of the things I meant to warn you about. Papadum eats a lot of things he shouldn’t. Soap, socks, coins, nails, rocks... His best so far was my phone charger. Nature takes its course with most things, but he needed surgery to remove that.”

“You loaned me a broken dog?” Bree huffed.

His face was inches from hers, his blue eyes alight with laughter. “Sorry about that.”

“Anything else I should know?” She edged a little closer.

“When you ask him if he’s been fed, he may not always give you an honest answer.”

His arms closed around her and his lips met hers. The kiss was exactly what Bree needed. She felt safe, warm and protected. Giving a little murmur of appreciation, she pressed tight against him. The embrace didn’t last long. Papadum raised a paw and struck Rylan on the shoulder. The move almost sent him sprawling face first to the floor.

“I think that means he needs more water.” He grinned. “Although I have no sympathy for him.”

Papadum rubbed his face affectionately along Rylan’s arm, leaving a trail of lemon-scented foam.

Bree laughed. “Go see to your dog. I’m late for a meeting.”

He got to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. His gaze scanned her face. “Has something happened? Other than my crazy pet eating your soap?”

“Later. I’ll tell you all of it then.” Just being near him had given her new strength.

He took her face in his hands and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Okay.” Stooping, he ushered Papadum toward the door.

She drew in a breath. “Rylan?” He turned to look at her, and her nerve almost faltered. “You don’t have to sleep in your car tonight.”

The change in his expression almost sent her running back into his arms. Somehow, she managed to get her trembling limbs under control and make her way out into the gallery for her meeting.

* * *

“No one is ever going to believe I didn’t train you to do this.” Kasey had provided Rylan with a roll of paper towel, which he used to dry Papadum’s dreadlocks. “Although I think you could have found a smarter way of getting her attention than eating her soap.” The dog held up a heavy hairy paw. “Shaking hands? Yeah, that could have worked, but it’s hard to see how it would have needed my intervention. Maybe you should have tried the non-stop sneezing thing you did that time when you caught a fly.”

Once Papadum was restored to normality, Rylan decided to return him to Bree. The dog’s purpose was to guard her after all. He couldn’t do that if they were in different rooms.

The gallery was a vast open space. Having studied a floor plan of the building, Rylan knew there was ten thousand square feet of floor space. With its high ceilings and white walls, the former warehouse provided a unique opportunity to display large sculptures and paintings, as well as smaller pieces. Bree had made it bright, open and fun, with a strong sense of diversity.

Her own paintings were glorious. Celebrating people, African American women in particular, she had a knack for capturing the perfect moment. Characterized by bold angular shapes and brilliant colors, her pictures evoked feelings of heart and home. Little girls playing, women gossiping, family gatherings—all were treated with Bree’s own unique empathy and quirky humor. Her signature was a simple letter B.

Rylan found her in an area that had been completely cleared, ready for the Spirit show. She was so deep in conversation with a dark-haired man about her own age that she didn’t notice Rylan as he approached. They were standing side by side with their heads bent over a large sheet of paper. The guy’s stance caught Rylan’s attention. He was just a little too close to Bree, a little too attentive.

He tried to dismiss his unease, telling himself he was letting his feelings for Bree get the better of him. When Papadum saw Bree and gave a delighted bark, interrupting their conversation, Rylan had a chance to review his first impression. Instead of changing his mind, however, his opinion was reinforced.

Over Bree’s head, her companion gave Rylan a look that was so laden with suspicion and jealousy it was almost comical. Almost. With everything that was going on, it immediately sent Rylan’s protective instincts into overdrive.

“Hey, Papadum.” Having finally figured out the dog’s anatomy, Bree found his ears and scratched between them. Since that particular caress was Papadum’s favorite thing in the whole world, he promptly fell at her feet in an ecstatic canine heap.

Laughing, Bree turned to Rylan. “He seems to have recovered.”

“I don’t think there’ll be any lasting effects. Just hide the soap—and anything else that you consider inedible but that would fit down the gullet of a large, foolish dog—and everything will be fine.”

“Is that a dog?” Although it was a common reaction to Papadum, when it came from the guy who was still standing way too close to Bree, Rylan found it irritating.

“Papadum is my new guard dog,” Bree explained. “Oh, sorry. I forgot you two don’t know each other. Rylan Bennet... Lucas Brewer. Lucas does the lighting for all my shows. Rylan manages a group of young artists who will be showcasing their work during Spirit.”

Lucas tried to get away with a curt nod, but Rylan smiled and held out his hand. “Good to meet you.”

The other man was forced to return his handshake and make eye contact. Did he get the stern warning Rylan flashed his way? He certainly pulled his hand away quickly and dropped his gaze fast. One thing was for sure, Rylan didn’t think Lucas would forget him...and that had been his intention.

“I’ll leave you to your meeting.” Ignoring Lucas, Rylan spoke directly to Bree.

She smiled, apparently oblivious to any hostile undercurrents. “Papadum and I will see you later.”

Rylan walked away, convinced he could feel Lucas’s stare hitting a point just between his shoulder blades. The guy clearly had a thing for Bree. Did that mean he was the person harassing her? It was a big leap from one to the other, and possibly said more about Rylan’s own insecurities than anything about the other man. Even so, he would be using all his resources to find out more about Lucas Brewer.

When he reached the promotions office, he checked his cell phone. Although he employed a full-time helper, Rylan liked to maintain a hands-on approach to the welfare of his animals. The personalized app he used allowed him to monitor what was going on at the ranch while he was away.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Bree would think if she could see his mismatched collection. Ranch described the property he had bought. Sanctuary was the home he provided for his animals.

From duck pond to donkey stall, the video cameras showed him scenes that were about as tranquil as it ever got. As the number of his adopted animals had grown, he had promised he wouldn’t spend much time away from home. That had been before he met Bree. She had changed everything.

Watching her with Papadum, he could see that she obviously loved animals...even quirky ones. A slight smile touched his lips as he tried to picture her among his other misfits. But what was the point? Looking into the future was a waste of time. As far as Bree was concerned, Rylan had blown it before he’d even started.

Chapter 5

Although Bree ordered her favorite Thai meal of pad gra prao goong, she barely touched the delicious stir-fried king prawns with vegetable chili and basil leaves. There were two reasons for her gastronomic indifference. One was Rylan’s presence. The other was the topic of conversation.

His expression grew increasingly stony as he read through the emails on Bree’s cell phone. “I had no idea.”

It seemed like a strange statement. “How could you? I’ve only just told you about them.”

He took a long slug of his beer. “What I meant was, I never would have known you were dealing with all of this.” His gaze searched her face. “You said your brother knows about these emails?”

Bree shifted in her chair. “I haven’t told him about the most recent ones. The ones with the pictures and the violent threats.” She speared a prawn, then dropped her fork back onto her plate. “Or the racial slurs.”

“You have to tell him, Bree. And about how this creep has upped his game and is moving your personal belongings.” Rylan’s jaw muscles tightened. “This situation is dangerous. The guy who is threatening you has been inside your apartment. I don’t understand why you are so reluctant to confront this head-on.”

Bree took a moment to glance around the busy restaurant. With its cool contemporary colors and stylish decor, the owners had given the classic Thai themes of gilded lacquer work and lotus flowers a modern twist. Most tables were occupied, and the early evening atmosphere was relaxed.

Are you here? Are you watching me?

So much for the chilled vibe. It was working on everyone except Bree. Her gaze roamed around the room, lingering briefly on each of the men as she tried to assess which, if any, of them might be responsible for threatening her. This is exactly what he wants.

With an effort, she forced her attention back to Rylan’s comment. “It all comes back to what I was telling you last night. My family is wonderful. They love me and look out for me. Sometimes they care so much they forget I’m an adult.”

Rylan smiled. “You mean they get a little overprotective?”

Bree snorted. “A little? If they could have me wrapped me up in lambswool for my whole life that would suit them just fine.” She sighed. “They—and they means uncles, aunts and cousins, as well as my parents and Trey—still see me as the little girl who needed extra support. If they think I’m in trouble, my life will cease to be my own.”

Rylan reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Bree, you’re one of the strongest people I know. I don’t see why getting help from the police with this stalker means your family would need to step in and take over your life.”

“That’s because you don’t know how being a Colton works. The combined strength of my family is a fearsome thing...especially when they’re right.”

“My nickname in the army was Lucky,” Rylan said.

“Okay.” Bree blinked at him. “Smooth subject change—”

“Let me finish, wise gal. Although I learned some tough skills in the army, I figured another tour of duty would see me coming back in a body bag. I got out of my commission, just before my unit was wiped out by a roadside ambush.”

“Oh, my goodness.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been.”

He lowered his gaze to their entwined fingers but not before she caught a glimpse of how much the experience had torn him apart. It was clearly something he was not comfortable talking about.

Bree decided to move the conversation on. “So Lucky comes from your knack of escaping just in time?”

“Yes, but that’s not the reason for this story,” Rylan said. There was a hint of gratitude in his eyes as he raised them to her face. “The skills and experience I gained in the army haven’t gone away. Your family doesn’t need to protect you, Bree. Not when I’m around.” His eyes locked on hers. “And that will be for as long as you need me.”

The people, light and noise around them faded. Heat spread throughout Bree’s body. It had the power to overwhelm her, and also complete her. When she looked at Rylan, it felt as though she was standing in the center of a dangerous fire, yet she was completely safe. Her heart constricted, squeezing the air from her lungs. At the same time, she wanted to dance, run, sing, leap...anything to release the energy surging through her.

Before she could speak, Rylan’s attention was diverted. “Isn’t that the guy you met with earlier today?” He nodded in the direction of a nearby table.

Bree followed the direction of his gaze. Sure enough, Lucas Brewer was deep in conversation with his younger brother, Joe.

“That’s strange.” She allowed herself a momentary distraction. “When I told Lucas I was coming to AppeThaizer with you tonight, he didn’t mention he would be here as well.” She shrugged. “Maybe I gave him the idea.”

“I’m sure that was it.” Even though Rylan’s expression was unreadable, there was an underlying intensity that Bree hadn’t seen before. It was fleeting, and he turned back to her again, his eyes dropping to her almost untouched food. “Do you want coffee?”

She nodded. “But not here. I definitely got a new pack today.”

He reached for Papadum’s leash. “Then what are we waiting for?”

* * *

Once Bree had locked her apartment door, they removed their warm outdoor jackets, and Rylan stooped to remove Papadum’s leash. As he straightened and turned toward the kitchen, Bree reached for his hand...and everything slowed. He wasn’t sure who made the first move—maybe they both acted at the same time—but their lips met, and his resolve faded.

Can’t do this.

The thought was a faint echo, almost drowned out by a passion that was instant and raging. Bree’s fingertips traced the muscles of his back as her lips parted and her tongue caressed his. If he didn’t stop this soon, he would be lost...

Breathing hard, he broke the kiss and took a step back. Bree watched him with wide-eyed wonder. The silence between them stretched, became awkward, then tipped over into uncomfortable.

Coming back here had been a bad idea. But not coming back here wasn’t an option. How was he supposed to protect her from a distance? Self-control. That was the answer. All he had to do was forget how much he wanted her, get a grip on his emotions and stay professional.

“Um, coffee.” He jerked a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Wasn’t that what you wanted?”

Bree stepped up close, took ahold of his arms and drew them around her waist. Rylan resisted the temptation to groan out loud.

“That was what I wanted. But there’s something—or someone—I want more.” A little of the light faded from her eyes as she scanned his face. “Unless...?”

How much worse could this situation get? Until he met Bree, Rylan had never known there was such a thing as the woman of his dreams. Now, she was in his arms, and her beautiful lower lip was quivering because she thought he was about to turn her down. He already knew how fragile she was. How could he be the one to hurt her?

“Bree, you must know how much I want you.” He tightened his arms around her. Always a good way to keep your distance. “I just wonder if this is the best idea. You know, with us working together...”

She gave a relieved laugh. “Is that all? Because we’re not exactly employed by the same company.” Rising up on her tiptoes, she whispered against his lips. “And I won’t tell if you don’t.”

That whole self-control thing? Yeah, that wasn’t working out quite the way he’d planned. Bree gave a little squeal as he swung her off her feet and marched her out of the living area.

“Other direction,” she murmured into the curve of his neck. “You’re heading for the guest bathroom.”

Rylan turned on his heel, finding her bedroom and closing the door just before Papadum could follow them inside. When he set her on her feet, the smile in Bree’s eyes nearly sent him to his knees. Desire surged through him, savage and fierce, setting his blood alight. Alongside it, there was a deeper sensation that mirrored the swelling tide of passion with a soft tenderness that astonished him.

Despite the urgency firing through his body, he wanted to savor the perfection of that moment. Of how it felt to be with her. Of how he could search his whole life and never feel this good again.

Bree gave him a quizzical look, but he smiled into her eyes before leaning down to kiss her deeply, his own need reflected in the quiver that ran through her body. He pressed his tongue against hers, feeling her, learning her, tasting her. Teasing, they drew back just enough to let the tension build, breath warm on each other’s lips before drawing closer again.

The next kiss heated up. Still slow, dragging out the excitement, savoring it, building the fervor, feeling every nuance. When they broke apart once again, they were both breathing hard.

“Sure this is what you want?” Rylan managed to get the words out.

“I practically begged you.” Bree slid a hand under his sweatshirt, her soft touch causing his stomach muscles to tighten.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“This is what I want.” She smiled into his eyes. “You are what I want.”

Feeling as though his heart had developed an extra beat, he drew her to him, his hands sliding down to her butt. Lifting her into him, he molded her body intimately to his.

Bree’s fingers moved lower, following the trail of hairs down past his navel and inside the waistband of his jeans. Her fingertips stoked the fire until it became a furnace. In a flurry of hands and lips, jeans, sweatshirts, boots and socks were flung aside. Scooping Bree up, Rylan deposited her on the bed.

Before he joined her, he reached for his jeans, snagging his wallet from the back pocket and placing it on the bedside table.

“I missed you.” Bree wrapped slender arms around his neck, drawing him down next to her.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.