Sydney gulped.

“Thought so.”

As Morgan was dragged out of the bar, Sydney’s voice echoed loudly behind her. “Don’t worry, Morgan, I’ll meet you at the police station—I’ll fix this!”

Oh, this was very, very bad. The fake man named Robert settled her in the backseat, turned on the flashing lights, and drove. How was she going to explain this if anyone found out? Her mama would freak. The Rosenthals.

And Caleb Pierce.

chapter eleven

Caleb pulled up to the curb, got out of the truck, and watched her walk toward him.

Oh, she was pissed.

Royally pissed. Once again, he’d been wrong. Morgan Raines did have a temper, and it was a glorious thing to watch. Of course, if he’d been picked up for prostitution in error and dragged to a jail cell in front of Sydney and the whole bar, he’d be a bit cranky, too. But anger wasn’t as sexy on him.

On her? Oh, yeah.

Her vanilla-colored skirt and matching lacy tank were a wrinkled mess. Caleb bet her hair had originally been up in some sleek hairstyle, but now it fell around her face in disheveled strands. She looked like she’d had a wild night of sex and rolled out of bed. Those baby blues were lasering firearms as she stalked toward him on ridiculously high heels, her lush bubble-gum lips twisted in a half sneer. Her fingers were curled into tight fists. Steam seemed to rise from her pores. Her normally pale skin was flushed a gorgeous pink, the same exact color he hoped she got when aroused. In those few seconds, he was hard and ready to go, and he was standing in front of a damn police station.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Damned if she didn’t handle herself like the queen of England even fresh from the slammer. “I have a cab coming. Who told you?”

“Sydney called me. She wanted to come herself but had to get back to her daughter, so I told her I’d handle it. Are you okay?” He kept his voice soothing and low. For the first time, he didn’t know what to expect from her. It was exciting as hell.

She hissed like a cat ready for a full-blown fight. “No, I’m not okay,” she snapped. “I’ve been humiliated and called a whore! I kept telling him I built houses, for God’s sake, and this idiot said I was using it as a code word for sex!”

He pressed his lips tight together. If he laughed, or even gave a tiny indication of humor, she might belt him. Southern women were not to be crossed at certain times, and this was one of them. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I spoke with the chief and the whole thing is being thrown out. It was a new guy on the force who wanted to prove himself, and he got carried away.”

“Do I look like a whore to you, Caleb? Look at my outfit! I was having dinner with Sydney, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in a jail cell for telling him I’d build him a house for five hundred dollars!”

Her accent deepened when she got riled up. His lip twitched. Uh-oh. She stopped her rant, knitted her brows together, and nailed him with her gaze. “Do you think this is funny?” she whispered.

Caleb shook his head. Hard. “No, of course it’s not funny. I’m still in shock. When Sydney called, I thought she was pulling a prank. It took her a while to finally convince me.”

She jammed her finger into the middle of his chest. “If this leaks out, I’m going to have someone’s ass in a sling. Does anyone else know?”

Was it possible he got even harder at her hint of violence? Man, he was messed up. Who knew so much fire burned underneath all that white? “No, it’s not going in the blotter, and Sydney already called the bar owner to explain what happened. The chief reamed out Robert.”

“I’m gonna sue the whole lot of them,” she declared. “Why the hell wouldn’t they listen to me? I told them I was working with Pierce Brothers.”

He tried not to wince. “They thought you were lying. Robert was under the impression high-class call girls try to blend in and look conservative. He came from Kansas. Guess he doesn’t know how it works out here.”

She blew an aggravated breath between her teeth. “I’m calling my lawyer tomorrow. Right now, I need to get the hell out of here. I have the stink of prison on me. Let’s go.”

God, she was magnificent. How had he missed such layers before this? This woman was fierce.

She got into his truck and he drove. It was only after a few miles that he noticed her solid veneer hid a hairline fracture.

Small white teeth clamped down on her very bitable lower lip. Tiny tremors wracked her delicate shoulders, and her fingers twisted in her lap. Oh, yeah, she was about to crash. The night probably wrung her dry from the extreme ups and downs. He didn’t want her to be alone in the hotel. He wondered if he could convince her to stay at his house. As far as he knew, other than Sydney, she had no friends in Harrington. No family. Of course, with her stubbornness, she’d fight him like a banshee, but he was gonna try.

Even though it was warm, he cranked up the heat and tried to make light conversation. “Did you have a nice dinner with Sydney?”

“Before my arrest? Yes. It was very nice.”

Hmm, maybe normal conversation wouldn’t work. Still, he tried again. “My brothers used to hang out at that bar you went to. Made the best burgers in the state. Closed down for a number of years. I was glad to see someone finally bought it. You didn’t happen to have a burger, did you?”

She tossed him a suffering look of pure impatience. “Sydney had the burger. Personally, I don’t think I’ll be going back there again whether they put the Big Mac out of business. Maybe it’s the whole prostitute thing, I don’t know.”