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his thoughts.

    He pushed his plate and his doubts aside and stood up. “I’m going outside—alone.” He snatched his jacket off the hook by the door and left the cabin.

    Laurie watched him go and wondered what she had said wrong. She stared at the door for several long seconds after he had closed it loudly behind him. Confused, apprehensive, she cleaned the kitchen automatically. Her gaze strayed frequently to the windows, seeking a glimpse of him. The cabin stayed quiet, peaceful. She flipped off the kitchen light and found the book she had started reading the previous night.

    She read at the kitchen table, determined to stay awake until Damien returned. But she failed to concentrate on the story. Damien invaded her thoughts. The crackling fire in the woodstove kept the cold night at bay, making the cabin cozy, even romantic, in the expectant silence. As she read, her overactive imagination turned herself and Damien into the book’s lead characters.

    Lulled by the story and the atmosphere, she got sidetracked from the written words. Her own erotic fantasies, spurred by the memories of his kisses, spun through her mind. After reading the same page three times, she closed the book. Conceding defeat, she propped her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and let her thoughts wander.

    Her mind stayed relentlessly on Damien. She sighed dreamily. He was gorgeous, with those dark good looks that made any woman look twice. Those dark brown eyes smoldered with barely leashed passion or glinted hard as steel. Tall, strong, muscular—another dreamy sigh escaped her. He intrigued her with a streak of controlled violence that was erotically appealing.
    He could also be gentle, patient, and compassionate.

    He could be harsh and uncompromising. He was danger personified tempered by a tender side she suspected he rarely displayed.

    His touch shot sparks of desire through her. His kisses overloaded her senses and short-circuited her brain. Her lips tingled with the memory of his mouth on hers. Her breasts yearned for his hands, his possession. Her body ached for him, for the ecstasy she knew instinctively he would bring her. He drew her in a way no other man, even Stacy’s biological father, ever had.

    She sighed yet again, aching need mingling with denial as she pondered the facts. An intense life-threatening situation, a dangerous man, and a fierce undeniable passion—those were the ingredients of a romance novel plot. Laurie frowned in consternation. A romance novel plot was not a good start for a lasting, loving relationship. Once the danger and the intensity were gone, there was nothing left. She had been dropped into the middle of one of her own stories.

    She blinked and her sense of humor kicked in so she laughed aloud just as Damien strode back into the cabin. As he closed the door, she glanced up at him but laughter spilled out of her until tears filled her eyes. He arched an eyebrow and stared at her. His eyes went darker as he approached her.

    Seeing alarm and concern on his face, Laurie struggled to contain her laughter. Her breath hitched and she clamped her teeth on her lower lip. Wiping her eyes, she finally subsided into an amused grin. He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down. His steady gaze never wavered from her.
    ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
    35

    “Are you okay?” he demanded curtly.

    “I’m fine,” she replied, a hint of mirth bubbling in her tone, “Now that I have seen the utter absurdity of all of this.”

    A puzzled frown marred his features. “Huh?”

    “Never mind. It’s a writer’s joke.” She grinned at his skeptical expression.

    “Let me in on it,” he insisted.

    “Okay. You’ve probably never read a romance in your life.” She paused, nodded toward the bookcase. “I can’t believe those are yours.”

    Her questioning tone invited clarification. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, there was no response. Laurie frowned. Children implied a woman