The Specialist

Kendra shook the hair out of her face and kept from sighing her relief out loud. Thankfully, he’d finally given her some breathing space. She wasn’t used to being crowded—and he was a very large man.

“Your life is an open book,” she told him.

“Is that right?”

She told herself she was edgy because she didn’t appreciate the way he studied her like some tasty morsel waiting to be sampled. The truth was, she’d been totally unprepared to meet Rafael Alvarez in the flesh.

He looked deceptively relaxed as he nudged his hat further back on his forehead with a knuckle and regarded her. He was toying with her, darn him. The knowledge annoyed her.

“It is for anyone who knows how to operate a computer keyboard,” she affirmed.

“And you do.”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Now that,” he said suggestively, sweeping her body once more with his gaze, “is too bad. There are lots of better things a woman like you should do best.”

The moonlight allowed her to see his gently mocking expression. She’d studied his computer image for hours. She’d thought she knew every nuance of his features, but nothing could have prepared her for the sensual reality of the man himself.

Rafe Alvarez was bigger, more masculine, and far sexier than any picture could convey. His suave, rumbly voice slipped inside her mind like a phantom lover’s caress.

She wasn’t supposed to be feeling this pull of attraction, yet her skin still felt the path his hand, then his fingers, had taken down her face and below. Her heart still hadn’t settled back to a regular rhythm. This would never do. The key to handling a man like Rafe was to keep the upper hand. He was baiting her, but two could play at that game.

“I know everything about you and Mitchell Forbes and his Texas Confidential agents,” she asserted. “I even know your next assignment.” She watched his body tighten. “You’re going after Stephen Rialto.”

She dangled the name between them in the silence of the night, disturbed only by the distant shuffle of the herd of cattle.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed dangerously. A shiver traced its way down her spine at his new expression. Despite the sensuality that practically radiated from him, this was not a man to trifle with.

“What do you know about Stephen Rialto?” Rafe asked softly.

“More than I want to know.” She knew he saw the small shudder she couldn’t control. “He’s lower than a snake and far more deadly. I intend to help you see that justice is served.”

Rafe studied her in silence. The sweeping glance of his eyes was disturbing, making her uncomfortably aware of herself in a whole new way. Until this moment, her lack of attractiveness had never bothered her one whit. She’d take brains over useless beauty any day.

Rafe, on the other hand, was gorgeous—in a purely masculine way. He was cocky with the self-assurance that came from being handsome and confident in who he was. When she’d decided to use him, Kendra had made a complete study of the man. He loosed his lethal charm on any unsuspecting woman that came within range—an ingrained habit on his part no doubt.

But she was supposed to be immune.

“Let me guess,” he said quietly. “You used to work for Rialto.”

“Hardly.”

“A jilted lover?”

“Of course not!” She shuddered at the very thought of letting Stephen Rialto touch her for any reason at all. Stephen Rialto had climbed over the bodies of the people he’d killed to become Tomaso Calderone’s number one henchman here in Texas. Kendra squared her shoulders. “I’m not going to stand here and spar with you. My motives don’t come into this. All you need to know is that I’m going to help you destroy him.”

The moon darted behind another cloud. Rafe didn’t so much as twitch at her words. He watched her in unnerving silence while the dampness of the grass they had rolled in soaked its way through her jeans to chill her skin uncomfortably. She had to remind herself that she’d left behind the safety of her computers for one reason and one reason only. Rafael Alvarez was going to help her achieve her goal—whether he wanted to or not.

“I think,” he said softly, “this conversation requires a different setting. Would you like to ride back to the Smoking Barrel Ranch with me?”

She released the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

“I hadn’t planned…”

“Hadn’t planned what?”

She pushed back her uncertainties. “On meeting you tonight.”

“But you did plan to meet me, huh, darlin’?”

“Not the way you mean.”

“Really.”

He ruffled her anger all over again with the simple arrogant inflection of the word.

“Yes, really.”

“Then what were you doing out here at this hour?”

“I was enjoying a quiet ride.”

“At four o’clock in the morning?”

“Yes!”

“On posted land.”

“I wasn’t here to steal any of your precious cattle.”

“Perhaps not, but you do realize you could easily have run into whoever is.”

“It never occurred to me that anyone would have the temerity to steal from the Smoking Barrel.”

“No? Your computer didn’t give you that little fact?”

He was trying to provoke her again. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be real annoying?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, Penny tells me that on a regular basis.”

“Penny Archer?” She was Mitchell Forbes’s indispensable right hand.

“Do you know her?”

“We’ve never met. I know of her.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, but he inclined his head. “You do have a lot of knowledge.”