Free Microsoft Word - AlwaysaWarrior by test Page B

in the picture. She could not imagine Damien reading romances for entertainment. He wore no wedding ring but that was not a surprise in his line of work. Nor was it a guarantee that he was single. Men took off rings more easily than they put them on.

    “Laurie.” Damien interrupted her thoughts, his voice low but intent.

    “Oh.” She roused herself. “Anyway, this situation is straight out of a romance novel. A woman in distress, a dangerous situation, and a handsome equally dangerous man. Think about it. It’s absurd. I’ve been dropped into the middle of a typical love story, complete with mutual desire.”

    Abruptly realizing what she just blurted out, Laurie clamped her mouth shut. Her face burned with the scorch of embarrassment. She had admitted too much and saw no way to take it back. It was one thing to react to him but quite another to express her feelings aloud. She dropped her gaze to the table but squirmed under his suddenly intense regard.

    “So.” His husky drawl sent shivers up her spine and clear down to her toes. He covered her hand with his on the table. His thumb stroked erotic circles over her skin. Heat suffused her.
    Her skin burned at his touch.

    “What are we going to do about this?”

    That deep baritone caressed her ears. Pleasure shimmered inside her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

    Chair legs scraped the wooden floor. His finger under her chin turned her head so she faced him. Her gaze locked involuntarily with his. Desire blazed, fierce and compelling, deep in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Reality winked out as she drowned in pools of dark chocolate. For an eternity she stared, dazed and wanting, into his eyes.

    “Why are you fighting it?” he demanded seductively, his lips so close to hers that his breath warmed her.

    But the very question broke the spell. If he had said nothing, she would have surrendered without a thought. She blinked and yanked her hand from his. Standing, she dragged her gaze from his and moved away.

    He caught her wrist, halted her beside his chair. She tugged free, inadvertently looking down at him.
    “What’s
    wrong?”

    “I—I can’t.” Cursing the tremor in her voice, she crossed the room to the stairs, ready to bolt.

    She sensed rather than heard him follow and turned around warily. Her knees went weak.
    All he had to do was touch her and she would submit. In his eyes, she read knowledge and sheer male satisfaction. He knew what he did to her, what she wanted but denied herself. She lifted a hand, palm out, to ward him off.
    ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
    36

    “Don’t, Damien. Please,” she pleaded for understanding. “I can’t do this. It would never work.”

    He frowned. Speculation mingled with curiosity in his eyes. “What are you afraid of?”

    “Nothing,” she lied, trembling with the effort not to jump into his arms. “I don’t want to repeat a mistake. I can’t do it again.”

    “Do what again?” He snagged her hand, tugged her toward the sofa.

    His touch, his intent, made her stomach lurch. Desire, carefully banked, gleamed in his eyes as he focused his complete attention on her. It was difficult but she resisted and snatched her hand from his.

    “Where do you think Stacy came from?” she demanded, covering fear and confusion with tart challenge. “Did you see any sign of a man in my house—any sign there had ever been one?”

    “Tell me about it.”

    His quiet voice pulled at her, urged her to confide in him. She shook her head, denying her need for a friend, for comfort and compassion.

    “It was a mistake,” she insisted with a calm she did not feel. “One I don’t intend to repeat with you.” Teetering on the fine edge between panic and surrender, she turned and ran up the stairs.

    A few minutes later, she lay in the dark silence of the cabin loft. Even the flickering fire in the woodstove was not visible from her angle. She yearned for Damien. Her heart craved love, as it