Free That Wintry Feeling (Debbie Macomber Classics) by Debbie Macomber Page A

her forehead, her chin. When he moved to explore her parted lips, Cathy could taste the saltiness of her own tears in the kiss.
    Grady lifted his head and pulled her into his arms. “Are you okay?” The question was breathed against her hair.
    For a moment, answering him was impossible. “Just hold me, okay?”
    She was pressed so close against his chest that her breasts were flattened, but she didn’t care. For the first time in months, she was beginning to feel. A healing balm, a warmth, began to spread its way through her. Cathy didn’t know how long Grady held her. Time had lost importance. The only sensation that registered was the soothing, gentle stroke of his hand.
    The pressure of his body edged her backward. The carpet felt smooth and comforting against her back. Positioned above her, Grady again studied her, lowering his mouth to kiss her nose and smiling gently into her wary, unsure eyes. The tender touch of his lips produced a languor, a state of dreaminess.
    Her fingers spread over his back, but the desire to feel the rippling hard muscles of his shoulders was so very tempting. Her hands slid under his sweater, reveling in the feel of his bare skin.
    Grady’s kiss devoured her lips until she was breathless and panting. His touch felt right and good. Putting an end to the delicious feeling was what would be wrong, not the intimate caress.
    When he moaned and dragged his mouth from hers, burying it in the curve of her neck, Cathy rolled her head to the side to encourage the exploration.
    His tongue found the sensitive lobe of her ear, and dancing shivers skidded over her skin. A soft, muted moan trembled from her. Cathy could feel his mouth form a smile against her hair. Gradually his hold loosened, and he eased himself into a sitting position, helping her up.
    “More wine?” His voice was slightly husky and disturbed.
    Disoriented, Cathy resumed her former position and nodded.
Don’t stop!
she wanted to scream.
The pain is almost gone when you hold me.
Her heart had been more than bruised, it’d been shattered. For so long she’d believed it would take more than one miracle to repair the damage, if at all.
    When she didn’t answer, Grady handed her a replenished glass. Her fingers were shaking as she accepted the wine. Gently, he kissed her temple and placed an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close to his side.
    “Who did this to you?” He whispered the question. “Who hurt you so badly?”
    A chill ran down her spine. Cathy began to quiver, faint tremors shaking her shoulders. Heat invaded her body, creeping up from her neck, spreading its crimson color to her ears and face.
    “No one.” She straightened, crossing her legs. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it. Should I turn down the heat?”
    Grady didn’t comment, but he leaned forward and brushed his mouth over her temple. “You’re running away again.”
    “I’m not running from anything.” She bounded to her feet. “Have you had dinner? I didn’t, and suddenly I’m starved. Do you want anything?” A quick step carried her into the kitchen. Peterkins was scratching at the bedroom door, where he’d cuddled up with Angela. A gnawed bone was in front of the door, his interest having waned.
    “Come in, boy,” she said, welcoming him inside.
    “Do you feel the need for your protector?” Grady moved behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder.
    “Will you stop?” she said, shrugging off his touch and forcing herself to sound carefree. “I don’t need a protector. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She raised her hands in karate fashion. “I’ll have you know these hands are registered weapons with the FBI.” Afraid her eyes would tell him more than she was willing to reveal, she opened the refrigerator and took out a carton of eggs.
    Leaning lazily against the counter, Grady’s hands gripped the edge of the tile. His look was deceptively aloof, but he couldn’t disguise his interest. “If that’s the