Free Heart of Dixie - Tami Hoag (1) by Tami Hoag Page B

objective in taking this little walk with her.

    Rein it in, Gannon, he thought. It hasn't been that long since you've enjoyed the company of a lady. It hadn't been long at all. Willing women were not among the problems of his life. But as he looked at Dixie with the sea wind tossing her hair around her head, a pensive frown on her ripe mouth, he couldn't for the life of him recall the name of the lady he'd been seeing off and on for the past several months. Karen? No. Kelly? Tall, slim. She was undoubtedly gorgeous, but she suddenly seemed a pale example of womanhood compared to Dixie with her lush curves and plump breasts. "I like your hair short," he said, the words finding their way out of his mouth without permission from his brain.

    She looked up at him like a startled doe, as if she would have expected him to speak Latin before complimenting her. It threw her off balance, something the primal male in him took perverse pleasure in. He grinned and lifted his hand toward her short wild mane.

    "It's very...perky."

    "Perky," Dixie repeated flatly.

    The man was going to drive her to violence. First she was a good sport, then she was a pal, now she was perky. Her temper simmered irrationally. Poodles were perky. Cheerleaders were perky. She didn't want Jake Gannon to look at her and see perky. She wanted him to look at her and see--what?

    The question stopped her cold. What did she want Jake Gannon to see? The anorexic sylph with collagen-enhanced lips?

    Shaken, she muttered a naughty word under her breath and stepped back from him, dragging her own hands through her sheared locks, as if to remind herself of who she was and why she was here. "I have to go back home," she said softly. She turned without looking at Jake. He was bad luck. He was a temptation that had come to test her resolve. He was too handsome to not want and wanting was something she had done too much of already. Contentment was what she had come to Mare's Nest for.

    She fixed her gaze on the big old beach house and the dogs sunning themselves on the steps. Her vision had blurred and she realized with surprise that tears had sprung up in her eyes. She took a step forward but was held back. Jake's big hands closed on her upper arms, his grip strong but gentle enough to take her breath away.

    "Dixie? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. "What did I say?"

    "Nothing. I just have to get back, is all."

    "Now who's in too big a hurry?" he whispered, giving in to the urge to draw her back against him--not into an embrace, just close enough so he could catch the faint scent of lilies of the valley that drifted from her skin. His hormones had decided Dixie La Fontaine was irresistible; his logical brain was not being consulted on the matter. He was losing sight of his objective, but for the moment he didn't give a damn.

    His hands moved on her upper arms in a soothing motion as he murmured, "I don't always know the right thing to say."

    Dixie forced a laugh. "That must be inconvenient for a writer."

    "You don't know the half of it."

    He turned her then and looked down into her face, into eyes full of uncertainty. The wind caught at strands of her hair and whipped them across the soft curve of her cheek. Jake brushed them back, his thumb skimming the corner of her mouth, sending heat through them both.

    "Will you tell me the right thing to say, Dixie?"

    Answers swirled in her head. Fanciful answers, romantic answers, suggestive answers. She banned them all from being spoken. The truth was, she didn't know what to say, either. Her feelings were caught in a whirl. Yesterday her life had been as calm and safe as a reflecting pool. Today it was like the ocean, tumultuous, unpredictable, and she had the distinct feeling she was in danger of going in over her head. She found herself wanting a man she shouldn't want, thinking of things she had left behind, and yet she couldn't seem to stop the wanting.

    It wasn't just sexual. Despite