High Noon

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Finally she looked up at him. “I never get involved with employees.” The need blazing in her eyes protested the statement.

“Technically, I’m not an employee.” His voice was husky. He wanted to touch her but didn’t dare. He, too, had a rule against getting involved with a client … but technically she wasn’t his client.

“Guess not,” she agreed. She licked those lush lips again. “Truth is, I haven’t been kissed in more than three years. I may have forgotten how it’s done.”

He reached out and removed the clip that held her hair. He wanted her to feel what a kiss from the right man felt like.

DEBRA WEBB wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romance, suspense and action-packed romance thrillers since. Visit her at www.debrawebb.com or write to her at PO Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815, USA.

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To my family, for always being there for me.

Beaumont, Texas, Sunday, May 26th, 9:50 p.m.

Joel Hayden had lingered in a dark corner of the High Noon Saloon for the past two hours. Finally a patron vacated a stool at the bar and Joel settled there before anyone else in the happy crowd could commandeer the prized position.

Whatever Laney Seagers was doing, she was doing it right. The century-old tavern she’d resurrected with her own two hands was hopping even on a Sunday night. The music flowing from the jukebox was country all the way and the atmosphere pure Texas from the murals on the walls depicting one-horse towns from the West’s heyday when duels were carried out in the street at high noon to the restored original wood floor that had seen its share of two-stepping boots and bloody brawls. The patrons carried the mood with their cowboy boots and Stetsons.

He’d watched Laney Seagers for the past three days. Wasn’t a hardship. The lady made his job easy, a vacation almost. Each time she laughed, the sound, sultry and sexy, left every single male customer within hearing range slack-jawed. Her honey-blond hair swung around her shoulders, making his fingers itch to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

Joel had handled a generous list of personal protection gigs for businessmen, celebrities and politicians alike, but he had to admit, this one was different. His new employer, the Colby Agency, wanted those with the most experience in the field on this case. This was Joel’s first assignment for the Colby Agency and not one to be taken lightly, despite the spirited setting and the sexy blonde in the tight jeans and formfitting T-shirt sporting the saloon’s logo.

Laney Seagers was in danger. And that was the easy part. That she didn’t realize the threat nipping at her heels was the element that made the situation less than optimal. Though Joel would rather watch the lady scurry around behind the bar than eat at chow time, there was only so much even the most highly trained bodyguard could do under the circumstances.

Throw in the mix a five-year-old kid who was scared to death of his own shadow and things were a little complicated. Since the boy wouldn’t start kindergarten until the fall, he spent most of his time attached to his pretty mother’s hip. Even now, as she worked the Sunday-night crowd, Buddy slept on a cot in the office. Whenever he was awake, he played video games in the kitchen where the cook, Tatum, a landlocked former sailor he called Uncle Tater, kept him company. Every other moment he clung to his mom. Thing was, the kid didn’t play just any old kind of games; they were the learning kind, reading, math and the like. As seemingly introverted as he was, little Buddy Seagers was as smart as a whip.

Joel had three brothers and they had all grown up hard. Their mother had developed multiple sclerosis when Joel was about Buddy’s age. By the time he was ten, she was helpless. Their father had been busy trying to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Later, when Joel was older, he also understood that it was easier for his dad to work all the time than to come home to an ever-unfolding tragedy.

Basically, the Hayden boys pretty much learned to take care of themselves out of necessity. Made Joel wonder if shy little Buddy had a chance against the bullies he would face in school. Without a proper father figure or even an older brother, preparing him to take care of himself fell on the mother’s shoulders. He didn’t know many mothers who taught their boys how to land a nice uppercut.