Free To Have and to Hold by Diana Palmer Page A

wide, swarthy face with his dark eyes boring into hers seemed to take her breath. He was vibrantly masculine in that white, loosened shirt, the dark curling hairs visible on his bronzed chest in the wide opening. His eyes went to the hand curled around his glass, the dark, beautifully masculine hand with its square-tipped fingers and immaculate nails. Absently, she wondered what its touch would be like....
    He reached out and caught her free hand in his, bringing it to his bare chest in what seemed like an idle, lazy move. He spread her fingers, laying her hand flat against him so that the curling hairs tickled her palm. The warmth of his chest scorched her fingers.
    "Your hands are cold," he said gently.
    "F—from the glass," she replied, sipping nervously at the ginger ale.
    He took another swallow of his drink and put it back on the table. He took hers out of her nerveless hand and put it away, too. His big hands caught her upper arms, drawing her down against his chest, gently, until her cheeks was resting on his broad shoulder, her chest resting fully on his.
    "Now, relax," he said over her head, his hands caressing her back. "Kick your shoes off and put your feet up."
    She obeyed him without thinking, drugged by the closeness of his body, the tangy fragrance of his cologne.
    Suleiman came up between the sofa and coffee table and nuzzled at Cal's arm until he was banished with a sharp command.
    "Jealous beast," Cal chuckled, tightening his arms. "If he weren't such a bargain of a guard dog...."
    "Cal, why do you keep a guard dog?" she asked.
    His chest rose and fell heavily against her. "I've needed one a time or two in my life, little girl. He's handier than a gun, and there's no way he can be used against me. Stop talking. You ask to many questions."
    She snuggled closer as he reached up and flicked on the radio, flooding the room with soft music.
    "Is this how you treated that brunette?" she murmured against his shirt.
    "Jealous, baby?"
    "We're friends," she reminded him. "Friends aren't supposed to be jealous of each other."
    "So they say." He moved, shifting so that she was lying full length on the wide sofa and he was leaning over her, propped on one elbow. His finger traced the soft curve of her mouth slowly, sensuously.
    "Have you ever been on a fishing trip?" he asked suddenly.
    "Not in years. My uncle and I used to go, though." She smiled impishly. "I'm very good at drowning worms."
    "I've got some friends who live on a dairy farm near Columbus. I'm going down for the weekend. Want to come?"
    She gazed up at him solemnly. "To fish?"
    "If I wanted you," he said bluntly, "I could have had you twenty times by now. There's been plenty of opportunity. We both know that. I'm offering you a vacation, chaperoned, with a room of your own, good company, and good food. Take it or leave it."
    She flushed painfully and dropped her eyes to the massive dark chest above her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound...I'd like very much to go if you still want to take me with you."
    His fingers moved gently into the soft hair at her temple, coaxing her eyes up to his. "We'll keep it platonic, if that's what you want," he growled. "God knows it's true that I'm too damned old to set my sights on a child like you!"
    "You're not to old, Cal," she whispered, stung by the tone. Involuntarily, her hand reached up to touch his face and froze as her mind registered the intimacy of such an action.
    "What's the matter?" he asked, capturing the small hand to lay it gently against his hard, warm cheek. "Are you afraid to touch me?"
    She cringed mentally at the tone. "It's not that. I...I don't know you very well...."
    "Not in a physical sense, you mean." He searched her eyes deeply, quietly, until the intensity of his gaze made her blood surge like a riptide. "That can be remedied very easily. Put your hands on me, little one. Like this." He drew her slender hands up and placed them against his hard chest, moving them over the bronzed muscles