Free Don't Tempt Me by Barbara Delinsky Page A

furious!”
    â€œBut I’m not ‘most men’ and I don’t like the idea of your hopping into bed with a man—any man—you’ve only known for little over a day.” His grin was brilliant.
“You may be a very passionate red-headed vixen, but you have restored my faith in the morality of women!”
    A slow anger began to rise, overshadowing the desire which had moments earlier captivated Justine. “You tested me.”
    â€œYou might say that.”
    With a vigorous shove, she pushed him away and stormed into the living room. “I think you’d better leave now,” she called loudly over her shoulder, pacing to the fireplace and planting herself there, arms crossed over her chest, with her back to the room. She didn’t hear his approach, merely felt the warm length of his arm slip around her middle and fit snugly beneath her breasts as he drew her back against him once more. Dismay filled her at the involuntary swell of her breasts, the instinctive trembling of her insides. Yet she couldn’t get herself to pull away.
    â€œDon’t be angry,” he crooned against her curls, his body long against her. “I would have been glad to stay. God only knows I’ll have enough trouble trying to sleep. But there’s more to life than lust, isn’t there?” He paused, then squeezed her. “Well, isn’t there? Would you rather I was a forceful rogue, taking whatever I could get, then walking out? Hmmmm?”
    She shook her head in misery, racked by a mix of frustration and mortification. Of course, he was right! Her resentment was uncalled-for.
    â€œThere,” he declared softly. “One other thing we agree on. And, when the time is right, we’ll agree on everything.” His emphasis on the last word startled her even more than his expression of the entire thought. He implied a future to their relationship— she had not gone that far. “Now.” He loosened his hold and turned her around, keeping her well within the circle of his arms. She had to tilt her head up to face him, yet his height was strangely comforting. His nearness sharpened her senses anew,
thrilling her with its aura of masculinity. “I have to go home to Atlanta for the weekend—to see my parents and tie up a few loose ends. From there I’m off to Tucson for a week or so—a small matter regarding an irrigation proposal. Shall I see you when I get back?”
    Justine was surprised at the question, given his tone of total self-assurance. Reluctant to give him the satisfaction of an eager acceptance of his very open-ended suggestion, she shrugged, feigning indifference. “Perhaps.” The feel of his thighs, muscled and strong, lingered as he stepped away.
    â€œYou’ll wait for me?”
    â€œâ€˜Wait’?”
    There was a devilish slant to the upward lift of his eyebrow. “You won’t go and take up with the first man who comes along?”
    â€œDon’t be absurd—is this another one of your little tests?” She followed his progress to the door through eyes narrowed in suspicion.
    His laugh was hearty. “Could be, Justine. Could be.” Then he sobered. “Good night. And, Justine?” The door was open by his hand; his eyes captured her. “Take care of yourself, will you?”
    Unable to muster a response amid the eddy of emotion, she could only look on in astonishment as he reinforced the request with a visual command, then closed the door quietly behind him.
    Justine sighed her bewilderment. “Good night, Sloane,” she whispered at last into the silence.

CHAPTER 4
    Fate, however, conspired to keep Sloane out of the state for nearly three weeks, giving Justine ample time for soul-searching. Where, precisely, was their apparently mutual attraction to lead? No man had ever inspired such thoughts in her; in the past, there had always been a definite cutoff point beyond which she had