Читать книгу Dr. Holt And The Texan - Suzannah Davis, Suzannah Davis - Страница 8
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Well, she’d always wondered. Secretly, she’d wondered. And now she knew.
Mercy pushed at her disheveled hair, took another look at the unappetizing mess of canned vegetable soup congealing in the bowl, then shoved it across the kitchen bar. She needed to eat something before she left for her evening shift at the hospital, but her stomach was in a knot that wouldn’t unravel, had been since Travis King’s devastating kiss.
And that’s what it had been—devastating. Rawly male, possessive, so skilful and evocative he’d drawn the will to resist right out of her, leaving her helpless and quivering. Damn the womanizing scoundrel!
And damn her for enjoying it for even a moment. With a low moan, Mercy buried her face in her palms. Instead of sleeping the day away, she’d tossed and turned, unable to understand what had happened. How had things gotten out of hand so fast with a man who was supposed to be nothing more than an old friend? She’d been justifiably furious at him, but why had she goaded him into something neither of them was prepared for or wanted?
Liar.
She’d wanted.
A lump of guilt lodged behind her breastbone, and she jumped up, dumping the soup down the disposal. If she were the least bit honest with herself, she had to admit that much. Since she was seventeen, despite the fact she was Kenny Preston’s girl, she’d watched Travis using his prodigious charm on the ladies and wondered if all the rumors she’d heard whispered about him in the girls’ locker room were true. She’d almost found out once, and it seemed now that the silly, spoiled, rebellious child she’d been back then still lived too near the surface for comfort. A wave of self-disgust washed over her.
Grow up, Mercy.
A clutter of dirty dishes spilled over the sink, and she knew she should load them into the dishwasher, but the task seemed too monumental to tackle. Instead she crossed to the sliding glass door and let herself out onto the tiny patio. She breathed in the chilly fall air in a fruitless effort to calm her racing heart.
Car lights danced on the boulevard beyond the brick walls that muffled the never-ending traffic noises, but the air was clear and sweet with the scent of drying grass blowing in off the plains west of Ft. Worth. Shivering beneath her oversize sweater, Mercy lifted her face to the night sky, and the smell of earth and hay caught at her memories with thoughts of Flat Fork and times gone by and damned ole rodeos. Vividly she remembered that night years ago....
The shabby motel room had echoed with the deafening crash of the door slamming behind her furious beau.
“Why does Kenny act like that?”
Mercy’s voice was plaintive, querulous with incipient tears.
“You shouldn’t have surprised him, coming here like this,” Travis said. Bare-chested in hastily pulled-on jeans, sleep groggy and bruised from the day’s bull-riding competition, Travis eyed Mercy with the weary world wisdom of his twenty-one years.
“I drove four hours to see him,” she said indignantly. The room was second-rate and musty smelling, home for the night for a couple of up-and-coming cowboys entered in a second-rate rodeo in a little Texas town. Sinking down on the edge of the lumpy, tumbled bed, she let her lip quiver in self-pity. “Sometimes I think he doesn’t like me at all.”
“He’s crazy about you.”
“Then why’d he run off?”
Travis sighed and leaned one hip against a plastictopped dresser littered with empty beer bottles. “Kenny doesn’t like this sneaking around.”
“I’m not sneaking!”
“It’s the damned middle of the night, gal. Your folks know where you are?”
Guilt heated her cheeks, and she smoothed her hands down the front of her skin-tight jeans. “Not exactly.”
He lifted a dark eyebrow. “Or that you hauled butt way out here all alone in that fancy convertible of yours?”
She tossed her honey blond hair out of her face and tilted her chin at a belligerent angle. “I’m eighteen years old. I can do what I want.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier for a proud man like Kenny, having the Honorable Judge Holt think he isn’t good enough to court his daughter. And you acting like it, too, with this kind of shenanigan.”
“My parents don’t understand,” she said, sullen. “It’s not my fault they’re living in the Stone Age.”
“Grow up, Mercy. Adults don’t deal with each other that way. If you were honest with them—”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Travis. That’s what my parents do. They never listen to what I say about anything—not med school or my friends or getting out of boring Flat Fork.”
“They just don’t want you involved with a rodeo bum, and I can’t say that I blame them. Hell knows we ain’t got much in the way of job security. And maybe defying them is part of Kenny’s appeal for you.”
She gasped, stung. “What a despicable thing to say! I’m in love with him.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you got a funny way of showing it, darlin’. You put him in a bad position. When are you going to learn to think first, act later?”
His condemnation sent a hot and startling prickle of tears surging behind her eyelids. Travis had been their intermediary time and again, the one whom she’d trusted to convey the most precious secrets of her heart, and now to find he’d been a reluctant and disapproving ally was a betrayal almost as potent as Kenny’s walking out. Maybe more.
Her words rasped with hurt. “If you disapprove so much, why have you tried to help us make this relationship work?”
Travis shrugged. “He’s my best friend.”
“And he’s the man I love,” she avowed, with force enough to squelch any doubts. Thwarted, resentful, the tears spilled over. “And now you’re telling me he hates me just because I wanted to see him. I can’t do anything right. Oh, God, what am I going to do?”
Sobbing, she collapsed onto the crumpled bedspread and curled into a ball of sheer misery.
“Aw, stop, darlin’. Don’t cry, blue eyes.” The bed sank under Travis’s weight, and rope-callused hands lifted her, cradling her against his bare chest. “Mercy, I can’t stand it when you cry.”
“Why does love have to hurt so much?” Weeping, she clung to him, her tears raining onto his bronzed shoulder. He was hard and muscular and smelled intoxicatingly of soap from his shower and healthy male musk.
His voice rumbled rough as gravel. “Love can’t help where it lands sometimes, I reckon.”
“But why can’t he understand? You do, don’t you, Travis?” Hiccoughing on a ragged sob, she looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes. “You’re a better friend than he is. Sometimes I wish—”
“Hush, don’t cry anymore.” He pressed a comforting kiss against her temple, his palm soothing as he stroked her bare arm from shoulder to elbow, his fingertips slipping under the strap of her lace-edged tank top.
Mercy’s breath caught, and she shuddered, her skin quivering beneath his touch. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room, as if a flash of heat lightning had consumed all the oxygen.
Murmuring soothing nothings, he brushed his mouth over the corner of her eye, sipping the salty essence of her tears, and Mercy’s lips parted in a silent exhalation of surprise and anticipation...of what? She didn’t know, could only wait suspended, her middle turning to jelly at the feather touch of his carved male lips, her heart thumping against her ribs so hard she knew he could hear it.
He seemed to be waiting, too, his mouth now hovering mere inches from hers, his coffee-colored eyes hooded and mysterious. Their breaths mingled, warm and uneven across flushed skin, and Travis’s fingers tightened on her arm, his knuckles barely brushing the underside of her breast through the thin knit of her top.
Confused, shamefully aroused, Mercy’s head spun. She couldn’t be feeling this, could she? This utter longing to have his mouth sealed on hers, to experience his taste on her tongue. But this was Travis! Best friend to the man she swore she loved. Was she crazy, or was that light blazing behind his dark eyes a burning curiosity and need that matched her own ungovernable, inappropriate desire?
What would he do if she curled her arm behind his neck and drew him down to her? What would she do if he took up her offer and pressed her down against the bed? Worse, what would she do if he didn’t?
The potential for disaster, for rejection, for utter humiliation made her stiffen, and suddenly the heated light disappeared from Travis’s features, masked so quickly by his normal teasing expression that she was sure she’d imagined it.
“Lord-a-mercy, Miss Mercy, you sure are a mess when you blubber.” Easing his grip, he dropped a brotherly peck on the tip of her nose.
Chagrined, flustered, she pulled away, using the hem of her shirt to wipe her damp face. Had he guessed where her wayward impulses had almost led her? Oh, God, how mortifying!
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but she wasn’t sure if the apology was for weeping all over him or almost placing him in the awkward position of betraying his best friend’s trust.
If he hadn’t sensed anything, then it was best to ignore that flash of hunger that had nearly made her forget herself. There was a name they called girls like that, and while she might have a reputation for being spoiled and a bit wild, she’d be damned if she’d ever let anyone call her the other.
“It’s okay, darlin’, you’re just upset.” He stood and slipped on a pearl-studded cowboy shirt, then jammed his feet into a pair of well-worn boots. “Look, I’ll go find Kenny. It’ll be all right. You know he can’t stay mad at you for long. You got him wrapped right around that pretty little pinky finger.”
She swallowed, not much liking the picture his words painted. “Is that how you think it is?”
“Sure thing.” He opened the door and slanted her a grin. But somehow it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sure Kenny’s cooled off by now.”
“I hope so.” Cooling her own humors wasn’t such a bad idea, either, not if she expected her relationship with her boyfriend to continue. But she had to know something first. “Uh, Travis? Have you ever fallen in love?”
He froze on the threshold, his shoulders stiff, then he grinned again, all cowboy cockiness and masculine charm.
“Sure, darlin’. About every ten minutes or so. Only problem is, I tend to fall out again faster’n chain lightning.”
Suddenly cold wind whipped Mercy’s hair about her face and brought her back to the present. “Every ten minutes or so...”
That’s what it had been all about, she realized. Some things, some men never changed. A consummate ladies’ man, Travis had merely been indulging in a typically masculine experiment when he’d kissed her late last night. Perhaps one that was long overdue. And she’d been vulnerable and tired and as a result, incautious.
Shivering, Mercy stepped back into her town house, blaming the temperature but knowing on another level it was still the aftershock of that kiss that raised her goose bumps. There was a lot unresolved in her relationship with Travis King, things about Kenny, about the way he’d died, about how Travis had disappeared from her life so completely afterward, that she’d lost not one man she’d cared about, but two.
But that was water under the bridge, and it wouldn’t pay to complicate her already complex, overworked life by admitting she was still susceptible to a certain bull rider’s brand of cowboy charisma. It was a good thing she wouldn’t be seeing Travis again.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang. She knew who it was before she opened the door, but she wasn’t prepared for the sheepish expression on Travis’s handsome face or the giant bouquet of hothouse blossoms he thrust at her.
“I came to apologize.”
“Uh—” Helplessly she stood in the doorway and accepted the cellophane-wrapped bundle, breathing in the rich scents of roses and narcissus. What could she do with a man who laid it on the line like this, who stood there literally with his black hat in his hand...throw his peace offering in his teeth? “This wasn’t necessary,” she murmured.
His mouth under the bold black mustache was solemn.
“To me it was. Your friendship means—has always meant—too much to me to risk with some stupid foolishness. Tell me I haven’t screwed up everything again.”
“No, of course not.” She shook her head, searching for some excuse. “Seeing you after all this time...we were both in a highly emotional state, that’s all. No harm done.”
“I‘tn glad to hear it, darlin’.”
She gestured at the armload of flowers. “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Uh, would you like to come in?”
“Better not.” His smile was engaging, rueful. “Wouldn’t want to press my luck, and you’ve got to get to work, haven’t you?”
She was surprisingly disappointed but tried not to show it. “Yes, you’re right,”
“I’ll be going, then.” He shoved on his hat. “Do one thing for me?”
She bit her lip. “If I can.”
“Those posies cost me an arm and leg.” He winked. “Promise me you’ll stick them in some water?”
He’d commented on that wilted grocery store nosegay last night, the one she’d finally thrown in the trash just an hour ago. Maybe he was charitable enough to realize she’d been too tired to find a vase. Or maybe he assumed the rich girl couldn’t be bothered with so simple a task, not a spoiled gal like her who’d always bought and discarded things on a whim, unlike a poor cowboy who had to count every penny to keep up with his entry fees.
Flushing, she managed a stiff nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll go put them in water right now.”
Disconcerted by the bitter edge in her voice, he hesitated, then he shocked her by dragging his knuckles across her cheek in a brief and all-too-disturbing caress. “I’ll see you around, blue eyes.”
Mercy didn’t close the door until the tattoo of his boots on the brick walk faded completely away. When she released the knob, she was trembling. The cellophane crackled in her hands, reminding her with a start of her promise. Moments later, the blossoms safely stashed in a cut-glass pitcher—a housewarming gift from her mother that had never been out of its box until that moment—Mercy picked up her doctor’s jacket, checking automatically for her ID badge, pen and stethoscope.
“See you around,” he’d said. No, not a good idea. Not with the history she and Travis had between them. Not when her reaction to his merest touch had all the dangerous volatility of a trainload of nitroglycerin. She had her life to get on with—responsibilities, obligations, things to prove.
Not that he’d meant anything by that catchphrase, Mercy thought, as she let herself out of her apartment. No, it was just as likely that it would be another fifteen years before she ran into Travis King again, and that suited her just fine. Because she certainly didn’t need a dark-eyed, sweet-talkin’ cowboy, who didn’t care squat for his personal health or safety, coming around, calling her “darlin’,” messing with her head and making her think about what might have been.
Not if she knew what was good for her.
“Who’s the man in black?”
“Johnny Cash?” Two days later Mercy was scribbling on a patient chart, the final one of the evening and her ticket out of the E.R. for the night.
“No, not him.” The young nurse juggled the charts she was holding, poked Mercy’s shoulder and pointed. “That one.”
Mercy looked up and couldn’t contain an involuntary spurt of pleasure at the sight of Travis King flashing his wicked grin at her. She deliberately quashed her untoward delight, frowning as he approached.
“Travis. What are you doing here?” Her professional concern kicked in, her eyes narrowing on the white bandage still gracing his temple. “Something wrong? Headache ? I—”
“Whoa, there, Doc.” Travis held up his hands. “Everything’s fine. I’m just a lonely cowboy looking for a little companionship. When can I spring you from this joint?”
Mercy licked her lips. “Uh, I don’t think—”
“That’s it,” the nurse announced, slamming the last chart shut with a sigh of relief. “See you tomorrow night, Dr. Holt.”
“Great.” Travis hung his thumbs in his belt loops. “Come on, I’ll buy you some dinner. Or would you prefer breakfast?”
He was so tempting and irresistible. Instinctively she knew he was pure trouble, and she struggled to be sensible and remember that she’d already decided the better part of discretion was to keep her distance. She shook her head.
“Thanks, but I really can’t. There’s laundry piled up, and I’ve got some reading to do—”
Travis tsked between his teeth and took her arm, leading her down the antiseptic-smelling corridor. “Not much of a life for a pretty gal like you.”
“We’re not all party animals.” Her tone was crisp, but there was no way she could untangle herself from his grasp without calling attention, and they were attracting plenty of that from the staff and the patients lined up in the E.R. waiting room as it was.
“You’ve got to stop and smell the roses, sometimes, blue eyes.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“So?” He lifted one dark eyebrow.
She relented slightly. “So your bouquet, which I’ve babied with doses of aspirin, is opening up beautifully. And yes, I’ve been smelling those damned flowers.”
Actually there was no way she could avoid it, for the scent of roses filled her to house, and each time she opened the door, she was greeted by the sweet fragrance of springtime and youth and renewed hope.
Travis’s smile was slow and satisfied. “See,” he said softly, “I’m a good influence.”
Mercy rolled her eyes. “Give me a break, Travis. Nobody ever raised as much hell as you.”
He placed a hand over his heart, mock wounded, his coffee-colored eyes devilish. “Maybe, but nobody ever has as much fun, either. And you could use a good dose of that, gal.”
“I’m all right.”
He snorted. “Sure you are. Somebody needs to take care of you, so come on. Dr. King’s orders.”
Ignoring her protests, he trundled her off in his black truck to the Stockyards, now a tourist mecca of shops and restaurants and clubs she’d rarely visited, then plied her with slabs of baby back ribs from Riscky’s Barbeque. Afterward he insisted they go two-stepping at the infamous Billy Bob’s Texas, where, not to Mercy’s surprise, he was recognized and greeted with obvious affection by every two out of three luscious cowgirls who frequented the tourist honky-tonk.
While his easy teasing and cowboy foolishness kept her laughing, and on the surface they were back on their old friendly footing, Mercy kept her guard up against a resurgence of that odd flare of awareness. Like a swift current beneath a still river, she knew instinctively it was dangerous and better left to braver souls to navigate.
Still, when Travis dropped her off at home a few hours later, again refusing her invitation to come in, Mercy was pleasantly tired, but amazed at how relaxed she felt. Flinging herself into her rumpled bed, she realized that he’d been right. Fun was an area in her life that was in severe deprivation. She’d have to do something more positive about fulfilling that need on a regular basis. Only, the last thought in her hazy brain as she dropped off to sleep was that it wouldn’t be quite the same without Travis around....
And he was around a lot over the next few days. In fact, despite her repeated resolutions to the contrary, she couldn’t avoid him. He appeared when she least expected, then whisked her off to some new adventure, not even giving her the chance to refuse. He took her for a ride down the interstate to blow the cobwebs out of her tired brain, bought her fast-food breakfasts, took her to a midnight cult movie, massaged her feet! When he drove up to Oklahoma City alone to inspect a new bull for King and Preston Stock Company, he arranged for a pizza delivery to her town house to make certain she would eat.
She certainly wasn’t accustomed to such attention. Indeed, she felt faintly guilty at the amount of time he invested in her “prescription” of TLC. But there seemed no way to avoid the runaway freight train that was Travis turning on the charm for an old friend, and after a while she didn’t even try to get out of the way. And if she wondered at his motives, well, she knew he was a tumbleweed who’d blow out of her life very soon, the same way he’d blown in again. She was just needy enough to pretend that the occasional tingles reminding her he was all man were nothing but an aberration she’d soon recover from. She decided to count herself lucky that their friendship was still intact and take what she could get.
At this stage in her life it was all she could hope for. And down deep she had a sneaking suspicion it was more than she deserved.
He was a glutton for punishment, that’s all there was to it
Travis jabbed the doorbell on Mercy’s town house and wondered what the hell he was doing. He should have been long gone by now-heck, he would have to fly instead of drive to Colorado Springs this weekend to make the opening round—and instead here he was, traipsing around after Mercy Holt like a flop-eared hound dog puppy, hoping for some scraps—of affection, of notice, hell, of anything!
He’d been sweet as pie after nearly blowing it with her that first night—chaste as a monk, hardly crowding her at all. When what he really wanted was to take her in his arms again, to take her sweet mouth under his and see if she was really as delectable as he remembered. In fact, he wanted it so badly he was on the verge of a major explosion. His strategy of platonic friendliness was a ploy, a ruse to let her become familiar with him before he escalated his battle plan to make Mercy see him as something other than an old pal. But how the hell was he going to do that if she continued to treat him like her older brother! He ought to have his bull-battered head examined.
The door swung open, and Mercy stood in her robe, one hand clutching the lapels to her creamy throat, her golden hair streaming loose about her shoulders. “Oh, Travis, hi.”
“Hi, yourself, blue eyes.” The state of her dishabille and the wary light in her eyes made him wonder if she were naked under the forest green terry cloth. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops to keep from reaching for her.
“Uh, this isn’t a good time.” She gestured over her shoulder. “I was just getting in the shower before I have to leave for work.”
“Hey, I know I’m a nuisance, but I was wondering...”
“Yes?”
He tapped the bandage at his temple, inwardly grimacing that he was reduced to concocting any excuse to be with her. “About time these stitches came out. Think you could help me out? I’ve got a big date with a bull in Colorado Springs tomorrow night and I want to look my best.”
“You’re going—?” She caught herself, but not before he heard the dismay in her tone. Of maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
“Yeah, Colorado over the weekend, then back to Flat Fork after that. Some prime stock’s come up missing, and Sam’s flat ticked about the situation. So if you don’t mind playing doc...”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure, come in.”
As he stepped over the threshold, he could hear water running. “Look, you go ahead and get that shower while the water’s hot, then we can tend to this and I’ll be out of your hair in two shakes of a piggin’ string.”
She smiled. “Okay. Make yourself at home.”
While she headed off for the bathroom, Travis moseyed around the living area, noticing that not much had changed since his last visit It was still a mess. Shrugging, he hung up his hat and went to work.
“Oh, my God, what have you done?”
A short time later Travis looked up from wiping out the kitchen sink to find Mercy gazing at him in absolute horror. She was still in her robe, her skin glowing and dewy from her shower, her freshly shampooed hair hidden under a towel that was wrapped turbanlike around her head. She carried her doctor’s bag in her hand.
His lips twitched. “I think it’s called housework.”
She looked at the spotless cabinets, the gleaming sink, the clean dishes in the drainboard, the neatly stacked paypers and cleared surfaces in the living area and stifled a groan. “Now I’m mortified. Travis, really, you shouldn’t have.”
He wiped his hands and hung the damp dish towel over the spigot. “Relax, darlin’. I’ve been a bachelor a long time. Believe it or not, since my folks retired and both my sisters married and moved away, I’ve been at the ranch by myself and I’ve become a pretty fair kitchen hand. Besides, a little help for some free medical attention is a pretty fair trade in my book.”
“You think I’m a slob.”
He grinned. “No, I know you’re a slob. But busy doctors are allowed, I reckon. Why don’t you hire somebody?”
“I’ve been too—”
“—busy. Yeah, I know.” Coming around the counter, he gave her a hard look. “Darlin’, you need to get a life.”
“I like my life just the way it is, thank you very much.” Mercy reached into her bag for scissors and a pair of tweezers. “Have a seat, cowboy.”
“Uh-oh. You gonna hurt me?” He eased a hip onto a bar stool and hooked his boot heels on the brass rungs.
“I thought bull riders felt no pain.” She tilted his chin up with a fingertip, peeled away the bandage, swathed the wound with antiseptic, then deftly removed the stitches.
He sucked in a breath at the brief sting, inhaling her flowery fragrance. It made him dizzy. It made him hard.
“That’s a myth we knights of the rodeo arena perpetuate to attract women,” he said in a strangled voice.
“So, how’s it working?”
“You tell me.”
She looked startled, but didn’t answer as she turned away to replace her implements in their case.
“You know, we can’t keep doing this,” he drawled.
“Doing what?”
“Meeting only at night like a pair of vampires. When do you get some time off? I’d like to see you by daylight for a change.”
She gave a little strained chuckle. “Why...so you can count my crow’s feet? Soft lighting becomes the haggedout lady physician, didn’t you know?”
Catching her elbow, he pulled her around, positioning her between his spread knees. He tugged the towel free of her damp tangles, then let his fingers slide down the slim column of her neck. He smiled at her startled expression and the way her pulse leapt in the hollow at the base of her throat. No matter how cool she wanted to play it, she was not immune to him.
“I know you’re even more beautiful now than you were as a dewy-eyed kid,” he said softly.
She stiffened. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Play games with me.”
“What makes you think I’m playing?” His thumb traced the curve of her collarbone.
“Because that’s what ‘Love’em-and-leave‘em’ King does.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Bending close, he nuzzled the side of her neck, whisking his mustache over her skin, smiling to himself at the shudder that raced beneath the satiny surface.
She batted his shoulder. “Stop it, Travis. You’re trying to change things.”
“Exactly. Glad you finally figured it out.”
“I thought we had this clear,” she said angrily. “I know you. You’ve got a buckle bunny in every rodeo town from here to California. Maybe you’re just bored, maybe I’m some sort of unfinished challenge from your past, but I won’t be a notch on some cowboy’s bedpost. Especially not yours.”
Hands tightening on her forearms, Travis reared back, his jaw going taut. “I don’t recall issuing that kind of invitation, darlin’. But hang on, I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually. If you play your cards right.”
“Leave me alone. I’m not interested.”
“Liar. You know as well as I do that something powerful’s going on here.”
“Nothing of importance.” She gave him a haughty glare, the princess withering the peasant with a glance, and his blood began to boil. “Nothing I’d care to trust.”
Her words pricked him in the half-healed wound of old insecurities, the part of him that felt responsible for Kenny’s accident. He must have been crazy to think she could have let that go, even long enough to explore a friendship that was more than it should have been and a chemistry that couldn’t be ignored no matter how hard she tried.
But then, he’d never pretended to be a rocket scientist. Hell, he hadn’t even finished college! There’d never been much he could offer the rich girl, and there certainly wasn’t much now. The lick he’d taken on the noggin a week earlier must have made him loco to think he might ever have a snowball’s chance in hell with a high-society gal like her—then or now.
He smiled, but he knew there was no humor in it. “Miss Mercy Holt, heartless and cold, same as always. Why am I not surprised?”
“Just because I’m too smart to fall for your cowboy palaver? Well, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Features tight with fury, she tried to pull away, but he held her fast, and her voice dripped acid. “I’m sure there’s plenty of empty-headed twits who’ll fawn and sigh over the ‘champeen’ and give you all you think you’ve got coming. You certainly don’t need me for that.”
His smile turned wolfish. “You’re right, I don’t. I’ve got a lot more on my plate than catering to a spoiled little witch who never grew up. ’Course, it might have been interesting while it lasted. Guess we’ll never know.”
She gasped in outrage. “You despicable sidewinder! You sorry—”
“Then again,” he growled, “I hate to disappoint a lady.”
Jerking her close, he covered her mouth with his, consuming her small squeal of protest with a sweep of his tongue. Hurt, disappointed, enraged, he burned his bridges behind him, kissing her unmercifully, holding her against his chest, his body growing hard at the sweet pressure of her against his thighs.
Boldly he explored her mouth, then slid his hand inside the lapels of her robe to cup and lift the lush flesh of her naked breast. Mercy shuddered and clenched her fingers in the black cotton of his shirt, arching involuntarily to fill his palm, and he gentled, rubbing the distended bud of her nipple in slow circles that inflamed them both.
Everything changed in an instant. Summer lightning flared, distant at first, then the thunder was pounding in their veins, and the storm raged uncontrolled, a week‘s—a lifetime’s—worth of wondering and denial unleashed by temper to its full and uncontrolled limits. Gasping, hungry, insatiable—lips clung, hands explored, hearts exploded.
