Free Rebel Waltz by Kay Hooper Page B

tried Rhett's patience,” he added huskily.
    Banner managed a shaky laugh. “I only wear it when I'm—when I think I'll be alone. For sunbathing.”
    He left the side, moving toward her until he stood just an arm's length away. “There's no sun now,” he pointed out.
    “But I thought I'd be alone.”
    “Don't ask me to leave.”
    It was half command and half plea. Banner found herself staring, almost hypnotized, at the broad expanse of his chest. It should have been unthreateningly familiar to her after a week of morning swims, but it seemed to her then that she'd never really looked before. Never really let herself look before. Now she saw the sleek, dark gold mat of hair covering tanned, muscled flesh, and swallowed hard.
    “Rory, I—”
    “Do you know,” he interrupted, stepping even closer, “what I first noticed about you? Green eyes and an impossibly tiny waist. I thought: Scarlett O'Hara, for heaven's sake! But with you around, she'd never have been the belle of three counties.”
    “You're hung up on that book,” she said with forced lightness.
    “Parallels, I suppose.” His voice was absent. One hand lifted to touch her cheek gently, then slid down to her throat, his thumb stroking herjawline. “Green eyes and a tiny waist. And the Hall's your Tara. But you're not in love with another man—are you?”
    “No.” She knew he could feel the pulse pounding in her neck, knew that her quick, shallow breathing was obvious to him. But she could only stare up at him, fascinated by the sparkling droplets of water adorning smooth golden skin. Fascinated by his deep voice, by the warmth of his hand. And she caught her breath audibly when his free hand found her waist beneath the water.
    “I always thought,” he mused softly, “that Rhett was misunderstood by everyone—not just Scarlett. He wanted her so badly, and waited so patiently for her to want him. And they came so close, those two. Do you think she got him back, by the way?”
    Banner knew dimly that he was drawing more parallels, knew that he was telling her something. But her bemused mind just couldn't cope with cryptic ideas. Not then. So she answered his question. “Yes. She got him back.”
    “But he left her,” Rory reminded softly. “He said he didn't give a damn what happened to her.”
    “He was tired. He was exhausted.” Banner wasn't really listening to her own words; she just spoke instinctively. “But he loved her. He'd loved her for so long. He would have come back to her. He did come back to her.”
    Rory bent his head until his breath was warm on her face, and smiled slowly. “Your sense of romance is definitely fine, milady.”
    “Do—do you think he came back?” she murmured.
    “I know he did.”
    Banner's eyes remained open, staring into the darkened slate gray of his; they seemed to fill her vision, her mind, velvety pools she wanted to drown herself in. His lips teased hers, brushing in a satiny caress that tempted her, tortured her. His tongue probed the sensitive inner flesh of her parted lips, sending shivers through her body.
    His body was taut against hers, his tension evident when his hand moved to the small of her back and pressed her hips to his. But he made nomove to deepen the kiss. Instead, the tormenting, unsatisfying little caresses went on and on, sapping her strength and willpower. His fingers stroked her throat, the back of her neck, then tangled in her thick curls to hold her head firmly.
    Jerkily, her hands lifted to his chest, fingertips exploring silky hair and firm flesh. She wanted so badly to touch him, wanted so badly to feel his strong arms locked around her body. Nothing else seemed to matter. Knowingly, willingly, she closed her eyes and abandoned a fight that had never begun.
    Whether he sensed her feelings or simply lost patience himself, Rory abruptly deepened the kiss in fierce need. His mouth slanted across hers hotly, desperately, drawing from her more than she could afford to