Take Only My Love

By Jo Anne Barnes

She breaks into his hunting lodge to steal information from a geological map he owns. Justin Quinn makes Nicole Sterling his prisoner while he figures out who sent her and why. He doesn't count on falling in love with this pretty woman, but can he trust her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Anne Barnes
• Release date: Feb 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215687703

Jo Anne Barnes

/Users/joannebarnes/Desktop/JO ANNE BARNES grew up in a small parish in northeastern Louisiana 2.docx

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Nicole Sterling clung to the cragged bark of a tree as she peered through a canopy of pine needles to search for the hunting lodge. The dense forest darkened her view, yet the wind bent the tops of trees just enough to permit secluded light to filter to the ground. She listened to the wind. It pulled at her clothes and sent a current of fear down her spine. She could hear John Arthur's voice in the wind, barking commands, orders she had no choice but to follow.

As she threaded her way down a steep hill, prickly palmettos tore at her skin and left it raw with burning. Clouds rumbled cantankerously over the Mississippi wilderness, and the wind repeated John Arthur’s chilly command. She wished she could call the whole thing off, but that would be impossible.

When she reached a clearing around the hunting lodge, Nicole paused behind the cover of a tall bush to study the weathered cedar building. Moonlight, partially hidden behind clouds, was not bright enough for a clear image, but she could see that the building had two stories, just as John Arthur had described. No lights in the windows, save for a smattering of lightning bugs clinging to the screens. To her right stood a house trailer, where the man's caretakers lived. Lights glowed from the trailer, but there was no reason for alarm, Nicole reminded herself. She had watched them leave earlier, along with the owner of the lodge. No one was home.

Wind snatched a branch from a tree, and she jumped. She chided herself for being so edgy as she pulled on gloves, stepped onto the covered porch and moved toward the front door. Carefully, she turned the knob and felt a tinge of frustration at finding the door locked.

Unable to stop her hands from trembling she pushed a nearby window upward, and when it clicked into place she sighed with relief. Darker than pitch inside, the only evidence of anyone occupying the lodge was the metallic sound of a mantel clock striking nine chimes.

She climbed inside, and as her eyes grew accustomed to the dark she passed a sofa and felt her way to a desk shoved against the wall. Her fingers ran lightly across a kerosene lantern. Tempted to light it, she decided the motion too risky. Seeing the outline of a stack of papers on the desk, Nicole shed her gloves and sifted through them.

With the sensation of someone watching, she paused and listened. Was it a creaking board she heard? More than likely it was the whisper of curtains moving in the open window or the rustle of branches against the shutters.

Comforted somewhat with the notion that the noises were a product of her imagination, Nicole took a penlight from her shoulder bag and clicked it on. There was an orderly look about the desk that told her something about its owner. Paperclips rested in a container and pens stood erect in a pencil holder. Putting the image out of her mind, she recognized her good fortune at finding the map buried in a collection of papers she held in her hand.

With slow deliberation, she read and reread the map until she memorized the information John Arthur wanted. She took a deep breath. It had been easier than she had expected. She was ready to straighten the desk and leave when a tremendous blow sent her flying across the floor under the crushing weight of a body welded to hers.

Well, I'll be damn! You're not a man.

Arms pinned above her head, Nicole struggled against the unyielding torso holding her captive, then heaved a sigh of resignation. Faint beams from the moonlight shining through the window gave no clue to the physical lineaments of her captor, but the strength of him assured her he was not a man to be reckoned with. Feeling his muscles relax for a moment, she utilized every trace of adrenaline pumping through her body with one desperate attempt to free her hips from taut muscles in his thighs. His hold merely tightened a degree.

His breath fell hot and heavy against her cheekbones as he rolled off of her. He grabbed her penlight from the floor. Its narrow beam of light bounced off knotty pine walls and then focused on Nicole's face as he ripped the cotton beret from her head, freeing a skein of inky curls.

Definitely, he underscored for emphasis, you're a woman and a strong one at that.

Nicole lowered her lashes to block out the offensive brightness.

Hah! Like a frightened animal, you don't care for light in your face?

She grimaced but kept her lips sealed.

With a firm grip on her wrist, the man yanked her to her feet and drew her behind him to the desk where he had tackled her. The strike of a match ignited a flickering yellow flame, its sulfur fumes nauseating her.

In the dim glow of the kerosene lantern, the man’s chiseled features materialized. His face was broad and washed in bronze by the firelight, which accented liquid blue eyes that seemed out of character against the hardened edge of his voice and the rest of him. Surrounding those eyes were tiny networks of fine lines, laughter lines that gave Nicole hope of merciful treatment.

She judged him to be at least ten years older than she, perhaps as old as thirty-six. His nose, slightly hooked at the bridge with only a faint flare of the nostrils, lent a Grecian air to his image.

With the lantern held close to her face, his fluid eyes stared deeply into hers as though expecting to find answers in their depths. She stubbornly returned his gaze, refusing to avert her attention. What she had done, she’d done out of necessity. She felt not an ounce of shame.

Did you find what you were looking for?

Searching the room for the opened window, her gaze abruptly evaded him, though her pulse continued to climb. Keenly alert to a cool rush of wind entering that window, a wave of goosebumps rose beneath her cotton sweater as she contemplated her next move. Did she dare?

Don’t even think about it, he warned, a calloused hand adjusting the lantern to throw out more light. You'd never make it.

His calmness surprised her. He should be enraged at her intrusion. She had hoped for lenient treatment, but when she concentrated on his troubled look all hope vanished.

You can speak, can't you? Did you find what you wanted from my desk?

I can speak. Tempted to tell the truth, she decided against it. I was lost and knocked...I knocked, but no one answered. So I came through the window to look for a phone. I left my cell in my car.

He shook his head emphatically. Try again, woman. The telephone is right here in plain view, he said, resting a large-knuckled hand across it. You didn't have a receiver in your hand when I found you. He paused. I'm still waiting for your answer. Did you find what you wanted?

A tremor moved over Nicole. Raw fear gripped her, but she struggled to conceal it. Yes, I did.

A dubious smirk crossed the man's lips as he caught sight of the map that had escaped Nicolle’s hands when he tackled her. He retrieved the map from the floor and motioned her to a nearby chair. Lowering himself onto the couch across from her, he carefully placed the lantern on the table between them so the flame cast its light across her face like a primitive spotlight.

This map? he queried, lifting a sandy-blond crop of waves that hugged his scalp. This is all you were after?

What makes you so sure I wanted the map? she asked defiantly. Did it ever occur to you that I could have been looking for money?

It's not likely you were seeking money in a remote place like this.

Had he watched her study the map? Regardless, something in the man’s voice told her that any attempt at denying the reason for her presence would be fruitless. All right, I wanted the map. Her eyes shifted uncertainly under his accusing look. She was certain that in them was a hint of fear--fear of what the man might force her to reveal.

Well, that tells me something. Maybe we're finally getting to the bottom of this. Catching her despondent expression, he added hastily, You're a geologist or you wouldn't have gained much by studying it. Am I right about that much?

Nicole bit her bottom lip to silence a cry of despair that lodged in her throat. She nodded.

We're making progress, he said with infuriating control. You're also a rich geologist, so why did you resort to stealing?

She objected to his accusation of thievery but acknowledged the truth of his words. How can you assume so much? Am I dressed in rich clothing?

His gaze shifted to her fingers and the raw silk trousers she wore. He arched his thick neck in a questioning manner. Your rings give you away. Jewels of that size on a woman's fingers are an indication of wealth from some source.

He straightened, the glint in his eyes not altogether caused by the flickering flame. He was enjoying himself at her expense, and thief or not, Nicole felt herself resenting it.

She lifted her shoulders. How did you know I was here? I saw you leave in your jeep.

I found your car down the road. Not well-camouflaged I might add, though an effort was made.

She was playing into his hands by letting him make a fool of her. "I didn't think it that poor a job. I'm not a professional, you know. I don't do this sort of thing for a living."

A secret amusement exposed itself in a raised eyebrow but was quickly hidden as the golden brow dropped neatly in place. It would pass as acceptable if you’re not familiar with this part of the country. You failed to realize that your victim knows every branch of every tree in these woods as well as he knows the--

Victim? she flung in exasperation. "I'd hardly call you the victim. You knocked the breath out of me with your flying tackle. My shoulder still hurts."

With a veiled expression, he quickly rallied to defend his position. In the dark, I couldn't tell you were a woman. For some strange reason, I just figured that burglaries are committed by men. If you hadn't struggled so, I would have released you sooner.

She rolled her shoulder. He hadn't actually hurt her, just scared the daylights out of her. Although silence was probably her most powerful tool given her predicament, she couldn’t help wondering how her carefully laid plan had been destroyed. Where are the others…your caretakers?

Monroe and Cassie? So you saw them leave, too. Someone must have told you about our plans. A wry smile touched his face as his hand trailed through a thick mass of disgusting tawny waves highlighted with burnished gold by the firelight. I flagged them on when I decided to come back and check on things. He paused, looking her over. His eyes narrowed. I’m the one who should be asking the questions. You were after information on this map. What I don't know is why.

Nicole shook her head in response, not wanting to irreversibly corner herself. She should stall for time, think of something that sounded more believable than the truth.

Don't go silent on me again, woman, he warned through tightened lips. You're in deep trouble.

I can't tell you, she choked.

Well, maybe I can help. A muscle along the ridge of his jaw tightened and she had the sudden conviction he knew far more about the situation than she had given him credit. There are only a few people who know about this map. I could count them on one hand, and you aren't one of them. I want to know who sent you to steal from me.

The determined tone in his voice was so marked that Nicole felt adverse effects from the chilly night air. She would have to tell him part of the story. Maybe there was empathy buried deep inside him someplace. His soft eyes hinted as much. Besides, she owed no loyalty to her mother's friend. John Arthur Odom sent me. He's a business acquaintance of yours.

Ahh, John Arthur. He slid a lazy, amused look her way. I should have guessed. Odom is aware I've run seismic lines along the Pearl River, just south of Jackson. His full sensuous mouth parted on a contemptuous grunt and he nodded his head knowingly. Are you a friend of John's?

She recalled the sinister gleam in John Arthur's eyes as he gave her his instructions. She wouldn't answer.

Odom lives in New Orleans. Is that where you came from?

She nodded.

And you drove all the way here, more than 150 miles? I thought the rich traveled in limousines, helicopters, or something equally as exotic.

I'm not rich, she corrected, and I wish you'd stick to the only issue you have a right to know about.

My dear, you're in no position to demand your rights, he ground out with insulting patience, not after you so willfully violated mine. You see, I know why Odom wants the information on this map. This hunting lodge sits on the hottest oil field in the south. I'd bet my life on it. His scowl darkened and a muscle twitched along his rigid jawline. You know from the information you mentally stole, and it is called stealing—industrial espionage...

Nicole's stomach knotted.

... even in a court of law. About a third of the mapped area has a damned good chance of producing oil. With the information you got from my map, Odom could pay a premium for the prime acreage and greatly reduce his risk of losing money even if there is no oil. But there is. And I intend to purchase those leases for myself.

She felt her limbs grow weak and a sickening nausea gathering in the pit of her stomach. John Arthur had kept her uninformed about Justin Quinn’s exact involvement concerning the land or its value. This man had paid the expenses for running seismic lines and should earn first rights to the leases. Because of personal concerns, she had been willing to take it all away from him. I understand, she said, her voice breaking with a catch of humiliation and dismay. I had no idea.

I've leased about a thousand acres, and there are another fifteen hundred I want to lease before I begin drilling. The fifteen hundred are the leases Odom wants to get his hands on.

An awkward silence entered the room. She wanted to break it but could think of nothing to say. To admit she was full of regret would sound . . . trite, and he wouldn't believe her anyway.

He leaned closer with renewed interest. "Just