Free The Case of the Missing Secretary by Diana Palmer

mother had skin like that.” “Did she? Your people were ranchers, weren’t they?”
    “Yes. From over around El Paso,” she said wearily. “Poor farm-ers. I come from a long line of poor people.” “Wealth or the lack of it never made character, Kit,” he replied. “It opens and closes doors, though.”
    He didn’t argue. “I know the memories won’t ever fade completely,” he said. “But surely you’re doing yourself no favors by burying them so deeply.” “It seemed best.” “I suppose so. Feel better now?” “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Deverell.”
    He sighed. “Kit, after three years, don’t you think you could manage to call me Logan?” She searched his dark eyes in a long silence.
    “Surely we know each other well enough,” he persisted. He touched her lower lip, startled by its softness, its warmth and full-ness. He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from it. As he watched, her lips parted and his breath lingered in the very back of his throat.
    His blood began to pound in his veins. His hands settled on her waist and drew her to him. There was nothing in his eyes except her mouth and even as he bent toward it, he knew he was going to regret this for the rest of his life.
    “There’s Betsy,” she croaked defensively, pressing her hands flat against his broad, hard chest. “Damn Betsy,” he bit off against her soft mouth.
     
    Chapter Five Kit froze, but only for an instant. The reality of Logan’s hard, expert mouth on her lips was all of heaven. She closed her eyes and felt as if her body was on fire from head to toe. He knew what to do with a woman’s mouth, she thought dizzily, pressing closer. He knew exactly what to do!
    Years of anguished longing, and it was happening. It was actually happening! These were Logan’s arms enveloping her, this was Lo-gan’s mouth grinding so hungrily against her own.
    She knew she’d live on this memory for the rest of her life. Her body lifted closer to his, and she moaned. The pressure of his mouth lessened and he began to tease and softly probe her lips, breaking through any defenses she might have had left, demanding surrender.
    She gave it willingly. Her mouth opened to his penetration. She leaned into his big, powerful body and let him bring her so close that she could feel the corded muscles of his thighs, the flatness of his belly, the warmth of his broad chest against her soft breasts as his arms tightened.
    He groaned and she answered him, her body so perfectly attuned to his that she matched every single movement he made.
    Slowly her arms inched around his waist and she moved helplessly against the muscles of his body. He was against her, around her, sheltering and comforting her. Nothing could ever harm her again. His tongue teased lightly into her mouth and then began quite

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    suddenly to stab at it, producing the most intensely private sensations in the lower part of her body.
    She tensed and tried to pull away, but his arms refused to release her. The movements became quicker, rhythmic, deep. She made a sound that she’d never made before and tried to twist upward in his arms, seeking blindly for a contact that would ease the powerful need he was building in her untried body.
    As if he knew what she needed, his hands suddenly dropped to her hips and lifted her into the cradle of his own, bringing her into a contact that shocked even as it aroused.
    She protested under his mouth. He lifted his head and watched her eyes with sensual mastery as his hands contracted, pressing her belly into a most blatant evidence of capability.
    Her eyes shared everything with him: her fear, her vulnerability, her shock, her delight in his masculinity. Everything.
    “Yes,” he whispered gruffly. He nodded and his mouth settled slowly back on her own. She was no longer protesting anything, and his hands were moving her in a lazy rhythm, which produced choked little cries of pleasure.
    When the building tension was more than she