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retrieved a first-aid kit, he got down on one knee and proceeded to put antiseptic on her palms.
    "The scratches on your face must hurt more." She shifted on the toilet seat. "It looks like you're going to have a heck of a black eye."
    "I've had worse," he said without looking up from her hands.

    While he cared for her wounds, strange feelings swirled through Lyra. As much as she had the urge to get up and run, she found herself quivering from the intimate act of him being so close and doctoring her palms.
    Suddenly she barely felt the sting of the antiseptic. Instead she was keenly aware of everything about Dare. His clean, masculine scent. The day's stubble shadowing his strong jaw. The way veins stood out along his forearms while he cared for her hands and the flex of muscle beneath his shirt. He had a hard, seasoned look about him, like he truly was a gunslinger from the Old West. He wasn't classically handsome. He was good-looking in a rough and rugged kind of way.
    Her gaze settled on his firm lips and her belly quivered at the thought of kissing him.
    She almost knocked herself upside the head with her free hand. Where had that come from? The trauma of the day must have scrambled her brain.
    It was a few seconds before she realized Dare had stopped putting antiseptic on her palms. Her gaze slowly rose to meet his, and her cheeks burned at the fire in his eyes.
    Something hot and electric connected them.
    "Come on," he finally said, breaking the spell she'd been caught in. His voice was low and hoarse as he added, "We've got to get you out of here."
    Lyra cleared her throat as he took her by the wrist and helped her to her feet. She looked away from him. When she was standing, he grasped her chin in his large hand and turned her face so that she was looking right into his coffee-colored eyes.
    "I'm not going to hurt you, Lyra," he said softly. "I don't blame you if you don't have a whole lot of trust in anyone. But I'll let you know right now that I'll do everything in my power to protect you." His gaze searched hers as he added, "Got that? So trust me."
    She eyed him head-on as she pushed his hands away from her face. "I don't trust men.
    Period."
    Well, hell , Dare thought. This wasn't going to work if he didn't find some way to earn her trust. He ground his teeth. He'd led the bastards right to her. He'd been had, and he'd been had good.
    Why he felt such a need to protect this woman, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the fact that he was the reason she was on the run because he had brought the men to her doorstep. Maybe it was because he'd let his partner on the force down and wasn't about to let Lyra down. Maybe it was the primal instinct to protect a woman in trouble. Maybe something about this woman was special.
    Whatever it was, he really didn't care at this moment. He was determined to keep her safe, and he'd do everything in his power to make that happen.
    Dare placed his hand against the T-shirt at her lower back and started to guide her through his house. His fingers burned where he touched her, and his groin tightened.
    Damned if he didn't want her.
    He shook his head. Jesus Christ. He'd better get his mind back on the job. The job he'd taken on the minute he'd led the cult members to her doorstep.
    When they walked into his living room, Lyra paused to go to his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. She picked up one of his framed photographs.
    "Your family?" she asked, her gaze still on the photo.
    "Taken at the ranch a year ago." Dare moved closer to her, keenly aware of her scent of roses and woman, and the primal lust she stirred within him. He pointed out each member of his family. "Mom and Dad on the porch swing. My brother, Josh, against the railing, my sisters, Kate and Melissa, sitting on the porch steps."
    "And you with your shoulder hitched against the door frame." She looked up. "You're lucky."
    Damn, she had a pretty face. "We have our moments. But I'd kick anyone's ass who messed with a one of