Free Return to Mystic Lake by Carla Cassidy

Her lips were sweeter, her body hotter and he recognized on some elemental level that without trying she was burrowing into his brain, into his heart, where no other woman had ever been before.
    This thought halted the kiss. He pulled back and released her and stumbled back a step. She stared at him, a stunned look on her face. She raised a hand and touched her lips with fingers that trembled.
    “Why did you do that?” Her voice was husky, and the sound shot a new wave of desire through him.
    “Spontaneity,” he said. “It’s not always a bad thing, even in your personal life.”
    He didn’t wait for her to reply, knew only the need to escape from her before he did something even more stupid. He turned and went into the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him.
    * * *
    M ARJORIE TOSSED AND TURNED for the next couple of hours, cold as she remembered the sounds of the bullets that might have killed them, and heated by Jackson’s kiss.
    The man definitely knew how to kiss a woman so that her toes curled and desire for more pooled in the pit of her stomach.
    The one relationship Marjorie had experienced in her past had lasted only three weeks. He’d been a handsome, slightly quirky computer geek. She’d found his conversation tedious, the sex adequate but nothing mind-blowing, and ultimately had decided what she’d always known: relationships were more trouble than they were worth.
    But she had a feeling making love with Jackson might be a mind-blowing experience, not that she intended to allow that to happen. Tomorrow night he would be in another motel room and she wouldn’t have to worry...or want any more hallway encounters.
    What she needed to focus on was who had tried to kill them and what had happened to Amberly and Cole Caldwell. That was her job, not personal interest in the very hot Southerner who, if she allowed him, just might have the ability to charm her right out of her panties.
    She had no idea what time she finally fell asleep, but she awakened to the scent of frying sausage. She frowned. The only food items that had been in her fridge were half a head of lettuce, a couple of eggs and a dozen or so protein bars that helped her get through long days. There had definitely not been any sausage.
    She got out of bed, grabbed the clothes she would wear for the day and then skipped from her room into the bathroom for a quick shower before making an official appearance in the kitchen.
    It didn’t take her long to shower and dress in her usual uniform of a white blouse and black slacks, with her identification clipped to a thin belt around her waist. She liked the fact that each morning she didn’t have to think about what to wear, that she wasn’t the type of woman to stand in front of a closet and dither about the daily couture.
    Before leaving the bathroom she stared at her reflection in the mirror and reached up to touch her lips...the lips that Jackson had taken such possession of the night before.
    She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She wanted to believe he was a rake, a smooth-talking scoundrel who couldn’t be trusted except as an efficient partner. And yet in the brief time she’d known him she’d seen sides to him that had confused her, made her wonder what man she might find beneath the easy charm and sweet talk.
    Shaking her head, she left the bathroom, chastising herself for any thoughts of Jackson the man and determined to think of him only as Jackson her partner.
    He was just pulling a tray of hot biscuits from the oven when she walked into the kitchen. “Ah, perfect timing,” he said with a quick smile. “The sausage is cooked, the biscuits are done and the gravy is bubbly hot.”
    She noticed he’d already set the table as she walked to the counter with the coffeepot and poured herself a cup. “Where did all of this come from?” she asked.
    He plucked the biscuits off the baking tray and placed them on a plate. “Hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your car to head to