Free Across the River of Yesterday by Iris Johansen Page A

and modern, but it isn’t a home. The detective’s report said you preferred your lakeside cottage to an apartment in New York so I thought this would do as well.” His eyes twinkled. “I even made sure it had a lake on the property fed by a real waterfall. It’s completely private and I’ve ruled it out of bounds for anyone on the plantation. I’ll show it to you this afternoon, if you like.”
    “That would be very nice,” she murmured.
    He frowned. “Now you’ve got to stop freezing up on me when I mention things like that. I bought this house for us, and I’m not going to pretend anything else.”
    “I don’t know what to say. I can’t imagine any man doing all this on the gamble that a woman he’d scarcely met might be
the
woman.”
    “You
are
the woman,” he said simply. “It was no gamble.”
    She shook her head. “You’re utterly impossible, do you know that?”
    He grinned. “It’s been mentioned a few times.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “You’ll get accustomed to me.” His voice lowered to a velvet softness. “I’ll give you every opportunity to further your knowledge in every way possible.”
    Serena felt the heat ignite in her veins like tiny licking flames and she quickly looked away from him. The sensual emphasis was clear, but not presented aggressively. There was no reason for her sudden breathlessness. Gideon managed to keep her constantly off guard. There had been no hint of sexuality in his manner either this morning at breakfast or on the short flight fromCastellano to Santa Isbella. He had been charming, humorous, considerate, and almost avuncular. Yet now he was smiling at her with a sensuality that was as frank and bold as a red flag waving in the breeze. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
    He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I try to keep it down, but it slips out sometimes.” He grimaced. “I know my wanting you makes you uneasy. I had no idea the brother-protector image I built to make you feel safe that night long ago would be reinforced every time you thought of me for the next ten years.” His gaze slowly traveled over her from yellow silk blouse to white linen skirt, returning to linger on the thrust of her breasts against the silk of her blouse. He spoke very deliberately, in a tone too low for the driver to hear. “I’m still your protector, but not your brother. If I were your brother, my thoughts couldn’t be more incestuous. At the moment, I’d like nothing better than to unbutton your blouse and take your breasts in my hands. I want to taste every part of your body. I want my fingers on you, around you, and in you. Every time I look at you my stomach knots and I get so aroused I’m hurting. If I weren’t afraid you’d panic, I’d tell Ricardo to pull over and find a place in the bushes and do everything I’ve wanted to do to you for an eternity or so.” He drew a harsh breath. “Do we understand each other now?”
    She was staring at him, stunned by both the barrage of eroticism and its explosive effect on her. Heat was tingling in every vein, and her breasts, beneath his gaze, were swelling as if theywere being stroked. She hurriedly glanced out the window. “Oh, yes, I understand.”
    She felt the warm solid weight of his hand on her knee and she inhaled sharply. She was trembling. She couldn’t think, but was having no trouble feeling. Every nerve in her body seemed aflame and her muscles were turning as insubstantial as water. She kept her eyes fixed blindly on the passing scene outside the window as his hand gently rubbed her knee and then slowly pushed her skirt higher to skillfully massage her inner thigh with gentle fingertips. “No stockings,” he murmured. “I thoroughly approve.”
    “It was hot.” The words were barely audible and her gaze clung desperately to the passing coffee fields. She should stop him, but she didn’t
want
to stop him. She wanted to sit here and let him touch her and be bathed in this sensual sorcery