Did she expect him to flinch away? He offered her his wrist. “I’m all yours.”
She gave him a wry smile and locked his other cuffed wrist to the opposite post on the bed, then crawled over him. The brushing of her ass and br**sts against his body was driving him wild, and he groaned low in his throat, his balls tight with pleasure.
To his surprise, though, she continued off the bed and moved to the far side of the room. Another surprise? He strained against the cuffs as she rummaged in a drawer, trying to see what she’d pull out. A feather? Chocolate sauce? A dildo? Damn, he hoped not. He swung a lot of ways, but a chick using a dildo on him wasn’t really his thing—
Suddenly, she turned and he was blinded by a flash. “What the—”
Click. Click click click.
He stared up at Miranda. She held a camera, and she was taking pictures of him. Naked. And turned on. Cuffed to her bed.
He jerked. He hadn’t given permission for this, and this felt…invasive. “Miranda, what the fuck? Put the camera down.”
“No.” Her voice was hard and cold. Click click.
He stared at her. What the hell was her problem? “This isn’t funny. Put the camera down.”
“You’re right, it’s not funny.” She took a few more snaps and then changed the settings on the camera, glancing through the photos she’d just taken. “And now you know how it feels, don’t you?”
“What the f**k are you talking about?” He was starting to get mad now, jerking at the cuffs. Damn it, he’d trusted her to tie him up, and this was what she did? “Miranda, untie me—now. Now.”
“You know what I’m talking about,” she cried, setting the camera aside and shrugging on a sundress and panties.
Dread crawled through his stomach as he watched her dress. She…she wasn’t leaving, was she? Why was she getting dressed? The uneasy feeling in his mind intensified. Even more upsetting was the look of anguish on her face. “Miranda—”
“I thought you were different! I thought you had changed, and then I find out nothing has changed.”
“Miranda, I don’t understand—”
“Why are the pictures still up? After all this time? Do you hate me? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t tell your friends about me? Just having a laugh with slutty Miranda Hill, is that it?”
Pictures? What pictures? The ones she’d just taken? She wasn’t making sense. She knew he hadn’t said anything? And wait—Slutty? “No! I—What are you talking about?”
She straightened her dress and picked up the camera again, br**sts heaving as if she couldn’t get enough air. “You and I are through tonight, Dane Croft. Through once and for all. I was an idiot, because after we started talking again, I thought maybe you’d changed. You weren’t the a**hole that I thought you were, but I suppose it’s my fault for being stupid enough to fall for a pretty face. Well, it’s my fault no longer.” She shook the camera. “I have these pictures of you, Dane. That’s why I went on that camping trip. It wasn’t to learn survival skills. It was to get compromising pictures of you and ruin your life the way you ruined mine. I got what I wanted, and you can expect these pictures to show up on the Internet in the next few days.” She tapped her chin. “Or maybe I’ll sell them to a tabloid. I haven’t decided.”
“Miranda!”
“Good-bye, Dane. You’re never going to see me again.” With that, she exited the room.
He stared at her in shock. What the f**k was all that? Why was she taking pictures of him—naked, for fuck’s sake—and declaring that she was never going to see him again? He was in her goddamn house. She had to be coming back.
She was coming back, wasn’t she?
Suddenly paranoid, he jerked at the cuffs, twisting his hands. Tight and unyielding. He couldn’t slip his wrists through. Damn. Maybe if he jerked hard, he could break the bed. He didn’t know what the f**k was going on—or why Miranda had suddenly gone psycho—but he intended to find out.
Juuuuust as soon as he got free.
For the next few minutes, he strained hard, clenching his fists and jerking at the bedpost. It was no good—he couldn’t get the right angle. Dammit.
He heard the door in the living room and stiffened. Had she called in someone else? Was she inviting her friends to come and gawk? They wouldn’t have much to see—his c*ck had pretty much shriveled at this point.
But no—Miranda stumbled in a moment later, clutching the camera and crying as if her heart were breaking. It made his own gut give a miserable twist—God, why was she so very unhappy? His own anger at her disappeared at the sight of her misery.
“I can’t do it,” she sobbed. “I can’t do it. I know what it’s like, and I can’t do it to another person. Especially not you.”
“Do what?” he said, jerking at the cuffs again. He needed to get free. Then he could touch her, comfort her, figure out what in the hell was going on in her head. “Miranda, get me out of here—”
“No,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m not going to do it. With the pictures. Put them on the Internet.” Her eyes were wild and glassy. “Even a jerk like you doesn’t deserve that.”
“Deserve what? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes you do,” she yelled at him, and looked as if she wanted to throw the camera at his head. “Quit playing dumb, Dane. You already ruined my life once. I won’t let you ruin it again because I was stupid enough to fall in love with you. And I won’t ruin yours either.” She flung the camera down at the end of the bed. “I’ll call someone at the ranch to come get you in a half hour. And don’t come looking for me or call me and try to explain, because I don’t want to hear it. We’re done, you and I. This time for good.”
She wiped her cheeks and left.
He stared after her, but she didn’t come back. Maybe she wouldn’t this time. What had she been going on about? Something with pictures and him ruining her life. It made no sense—he hadn’t seen her since he last left Bluebonnet right after high school, and she’d been the one to turn him away, not the other way around. He didn’t understand, and Miranda had been incomprehensible.
She’d been totally heartbroken, too, and it clenched at his heart. What was so wrong that she wanted to hurt him to try and fix it?
She said she’d fallen in love with him. He’d fallen for her, too—hell, he’d been in love with her for the past nine years and was just too damn dumb to see it. Whatever she’d felt, she needed to destroy it, he thought, and kicked the camera. It shot against the wall and shattered into several pieces.
He wanted to go after her. Have her explain herself. Shake some sense into her. Hold her and stroke her hair until the tears went away, and fix her problems for her. He wasn’t even mad anymore, just downright confused. Dane couldn’t stay mad—not when she cried as if her heart was breaking. Hell, her sobs were breaking his heart. All he wanted was to comfort her.
But he couldn’t do anything, because she’d chosen to cut him out of her life in this bizarre manner. He was stuck until someone came to rescue him. And so he sat, and waited, and seethed with worry for Miranda.
Someone knocked at the door a short time later. “Come in,” he shouted, wishing he had something to cover up with. “I’m in the bedroom.”
Footsteps, and then a tall, lean figure leaned in the doorway of the bedroom. Cool eyes narrowed at him, and Colt rubbed his head. “’Preciate the offer, bro, but you ain’t my type.”
“Very funny,” Dane said, jerking at the handcuffs again. “Just get me down from here so I can find Miranda and paddle her ass until she tells me what’s going on.”
The keys had been left in the nightstand, and it took mere seconds for Dane to be freed. He rubbed his wrists and then dressed without a word. When he put his shoes back on, he went over to the camera, and stomped it to bits, taking out some of his aggression on it.
“Pics of your bad side?”
He turned and scowled at his friend. “You know anything about Miranda Hill and something that ruined her life?”
“Nope,” Colt said. “You fuckin’ her?”
He narrowed his eyes at Colt. “She’s my girlfriend. Was my girlfriend.”
Colt scowled. “Fucking a client?”
“It’s not like that. And it’s not f**king. Quit saying that or I’m going to punch it out of your mouth. Hear me?”
Colt scowled for a moment longer, then nodded. “Her prissy friend knows something ’bout this. She came by to yell at me a couple days ago.”
“Then let’s pay her a visit,” Dane said grimly.
* * *
“Why am I not surprised it’s a beauty parlor?” Colt said with disgust as they pulled up in front of the bright pink sign and shop window painted with garishly bright flowers. “Shoulda known.”
Dane vaulted from the jeep as soon as it stopped, barely pausing to clear the curb. The sign in the window was off, but there was a light on inside. He banged on the door repeatedly. She had to be inside. Had to be.
After two minutes of straight banging, he heard someone inside and then the rest of the lights flicked on. A familiar blonde glared out at him from the other side of the window. “I’m closed. Come back tomorrow.”
“I’m looking for Miranda,” he shouted through the glass.
“Not here. And even if she was, I wouldn’t let her talk to the likes of you.” She gave him a cool look and flicked the light off again, clearly intending to leave him standing out there.
He banged on the door again, harder. After a moment, Beth Ann flicked the lights on again. “Don’t make me call the cops.”
“We just want to talk,” Colt said gruffly at his side, his gaze hot on the blonde. “’Bout Miranda.”
She scowled at both of them but hesitated. “I’m not leaving my salon open late if no one’s getting their hair cut, understand?”
“Fine,” said Colt, and gave a crisp nod.
Beth Ann opened the door and heaved an exasperated sigh. “Don’t you two make me regret this.”
Dane walked into the shop after Colt. It was cute and bright and covered in bottles of all kinds of girly stuff. It smelled faintly floral, and he recognized the scent—Miranda’s shampoo. Just the scent sent a bolt of unhappiness through him. “Where’s Miranda?”
“Probably halfway to Houston by now,” Beth Ann said, and picked up the pink leopard cape. “Who am I cutting?”
Colt removed his hat and sat in the chair, and Beth Ann gave a delicate snort. Colt’s hair was already cut razor short and close to his scalp. She must have been a sadist, because she put that ugly pink cape on Colt and pumped the foot bar on the chair to adjust the height.
Colt glared into the mirror.
“Houston?” Dane said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms tight over his chest. “Why the hell is she going to Houston?”