“All right, all right. I’ll keep the snarling to a minimum this time. But not the glaring.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Now kiss me and tell me you love me.”

“Who says I do?”

“You did . . . last night.”

She blushed, her grin wide, probably remembering how he’d woken her up in the middle of the night with kisses and nuzzles. “Egbert Ray Smith, stop it.”

“Stop what? Loving you? ’Cause that ain’t never gonna happen, Darla Mae.”

“I know, Eggie,” she said, her pretty eyes warm and, as always with him, welcoming. And damn it all, she still had those dimples, too. “That’s what makes everything perfect for me. Always has. Now come on.” She took his hand, led him toward the house. “Let’s go see our beautiful baby girl and her mate.”

WED OR DEAD

Cynthia Eden

For Megan, editor extraordinaire.

Thanks for all of your insight and assistance.

CHAPTER ONE

The bride almost left her groom at the altar. The temptation was pretty damn strong.

Normally, Kayla Kincaid wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything, but when she put one foot down on that too-red carpet at the Forever Chapel, her heart raced so fast that her chest hurt. She gripped the flowers in her hand, a small bouquet of daisies that the groom had grabbed from God knew where. There was music playing. Some sweet little old lady was nearby, stroking an organ and smiling, and Kayla realized that she had frozen after taking that single step.

This was her wedding day? How the hell had this happened? She wasn’t supposed to be getting married. She should be hightailing it out of Vegas, and not getting all sweaty-palmed around the daisies as she got ready to say I do.

How? How had this happened? Her death grip tightened on the slumping bouquet.

Then the groom turned toward her and flashed that megawatt smile of his. The smile that revealed all of his perfect, white teeth.

Oh, right. That was how.

Gage Riley waited for her at the end of that narrow aisle. The groom. She swallowed. He wasn’t dressed in a fancy tux. He wore jeans that clung to his lean hips and a black T-shirt that stretched taut over his muscled chest and those wonderful big and broad shoulders that had probably made plenty of women drool over the years.

With his perfect, sculpted face, that rock-hard jaw, his wild mane of midnight black hair, and those sky blue eyes, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

She managed to unfreeze herself and take another step toward him. Gage. Sexy, but dangerous. Oh, she knew he was dangerous.

He was also a job. Her assignment. And Kayla had her orders.

Get close to him. By any means necessary. In this case, any means included marriage.

But...

But this didn’t feel like anassignment.

The little old lady playing the organ began to frown at her. Gage just kept smiling. He looked confident. Strong. He had no doubt that they were about to be joined as man and wife. Kayla couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder. There were about five feet between her and the front door. Maybe . . . maybe she should just make a run for it. Before things went past the point of no return.

She tried to swallow again. The lump in her throat was getting worse.

Warm, strong fingers curled around her arm, just below her elbow. Kayla didn’t jump because she’d grown used to the silent way that Gage could move. Despite the guy’s big size, he was eerily quiet when he walked, and, jeez, the guy was fast.

“Going somewhere?” He asked in that deep, dark voice that sounded like sin in the night.

Very slowly, Kayla turned her head back so that she faced him. The smile had slipped from his face. Such a handsome face. He always looked so open and almost carefree.

But there was more to Gage than met the eye. Much, much more. Her gaze dropped to his lips. Sensual. She’d felt those lips on hers plenty of times. That had been the plan, right? Get close? Make him trust her?

Only marriage hadn’t been on her agenda. It had been on his. He’d pushed for this, and she’d realized that if she didn’t take this step, she’d lose her connection to him. Then the assignment would go to hell.

“It’s too late to run,” he told her. His hand lifted and brushed against her cheek. The caress was gentle. So at odds with fierce strength that she knew he could wield. “I’d just follow you, sweetheart.”

She was killing the daisies. The little old lady had stopped playing and was now glaring at her in a not-so-sweet way. The minister—wait, was he a minister or a justice of the peace—or something else? Whatever. The guy peered suspiciously at them from his perch near the front of the chapel.

Gage leaned toward her and his lips pressed lightly against hers. “It’s just a few simple words. Nothing for you to be afraid of.”

Kayla stiffened. “I’m not afraid.” Admitting fear to herself was one thing. Confessing it out loud, to someone else? No way.

Besides, she wasn’t really afraid. Nervous. That was all. A wee bit nervous. Gage was the one who should be afraid. The guy didn’t know just what he was setting himself up for here.

He didn’t know her. Not really.

If he did, he would be the one running.

Her groom-to-be had no idea that she’d stashed a gun in her purse. Or that she kept a knife—silver—strapped to her ankle. He didn’t know that she’d spent most of her adult life becoming a perfect predator, and he damn sure didn’t know that he was her current prey.