Free Heat Wave by Sara Orwig

had only made her anguished body want more. He had awakened the hunger she thought was under control, diminished by long hours at work, by dedication to her career.
    One of Cole’s hands roamed down her back, sliding warmly against her bare flesh until he reached the thin cotton of her sundress. His fingers trailed lower, caressing the small of her back, following her spine, creating wild sparks of heat. When his fingers drifted over the slope of her buttocks, she began to struggle.
    She caught his hard, bony wrist and pulled his hand away, twisting her head to free her lips from his. He buried his face in the cloud of red hair while he nuzzled her shoulder. “My auburn-haired witch!”
    “Good night. Cole.” Her voice was breathless.
    Thick lashes lowered while he gazed at her through half-closed eyes. His voice was as uneven as hers. “Honey, today was very, very special.”
    “I think it would be better for us both to forget it.”
    “Now who’s taking a relationship lightly—after your stern warning!”
    “This isn’t a relationship. It really isn’t.”
    His brows narrowed over the bridge of his straight nose. “I hope, way down deep, you don’t mean that.”
    Her heart speeded up. “You have me so confused I don’t know what I’m doing—except telling you good night. I have to go.”
    He smiled and touched her cheek. “All right, but I’ll smell your perfume all the way home, wish you were beside me, your knee close to mine. I’ll hear your laughter, remember you tumbling out of the sky, dropping down into my pool, remember your kisses. …”
    She clamped her jaws together and turned to unlock the door. In her haste, she dropped the key and it clattered on the porch. Cole picked it up and when she reached to take it, his fingers closed around hers, tugging lightly, pulling her hand to his mouth to kiss the inside of her wrist.
    His tongue flicked against the heel of her palm, starting a fresh wave of reaction, a sweet longing, a remembrance of the night’s intimacy.
    Pulling free of his grasp, her fingers closed around the small metal key. “Some night soon you won’t shut me out, Marilee,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “Even now you can only close me out of your house, not out of your heart.”
    Without answering she unlocked the door and stepped inside her house. She was trembling, thankful it was dark and he couldn’t see her face. He didn’t move, but stood across the threshold, his blue eyes piercing hers. “Good night,” she whispered reluctantly and closed the door.
    Standing without moving, she listened to his footsteps across the porch. Within seconds the car door slammed, then silence. She realized that he must be waiting to see a light come on. She flipped the switch, then hurried through the house, through familiar rooms filled with potted plants, her home which had suddenly lost its appeal. Thinking the dogs would help to alleviate her depression, she opened the back door of the screen porch and let them inside.
    As the two silver afghans bounded into the house, she heard the motor of a car roar then fade into the night. She patted the dogs’ slender heads, talking to them, watching their tails wag joyously in welcome. When she straightened, they followed her through the house but she forgot them instantly. She was thinking about Cole and the day. It seemed years since morning. She glanced around her yellow kitchen with its potted plants. She loved the lush green plants for they gave her a feeling of something tropical in dry Kansas.
    Switching off the lights, she walked through her small dining room with its round oak table and four chairs. By comparison to Cole’s spacious farmhouse, her home was small, but it was comfortable. In her yellow bedroom her text lay on the corner of the dresser. She picked it up and held the thick blue book in her hands.
    The Words You Read by M. L. O’Neil.
    Cole Chandler threatened her career, her work, her peace, her existence. One weak