Free Christmas Getaway by Tina Leonard and Marion Lennox Anne Stuart

“You can kill me when I get back.”
    â€œDon’t you think you could have just asked me to stay put?”
    â€œI could have. But I don’t trust you to stay out of trouble. I’m going to see if I can get to Spinelli, and you’re going to sit there and behave…” His voice trailed off, and his eyes grew hard, his mouth grim. “What’s wrong with your face?”
    It wasn’t like she’d forgotten. Her cheek had been throbbing from O’Bannion’s blow during the long drive north, and she’d deliberately kept it turned away from him. “Nothing’s wrong with my face,” she snapped. “I think it’s quite a nice face. Maybe not classically beautiful, but not bad, all in all.”
    â€œDon’t play games with me.” He caught her chin in one hand, turned it to survey the damage. She hadn’t had a chance to look in a mirror but she imagined the bruises had already begun to form. “O’Bannion do this?”
    She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. “I’m going to kill him,” Fitz said, his voice calm and flat. He grabbed one of the blankets she’d brought and tossed it over her, carefully.
    â€œFitz…”
    â€œI’ll be back in an hour or so. I built up the fire so you’ll stay warm.”
    â€œWhat if they come for me? I’m not going to be able to get away if I’m handcuffed to this bloody chair.”
    â€œIt’s me they’re after.”
    â€œAnd if they kill you?”
    He leaned over her and kissed her full on the mouth. “No one’s going to kill me,” he said. “I’ve got too much to live for.” He kissed her again, and she felt her body rise into the kiss, wanting more. “I’ve got you.”
    And then he was gone, the bastard, leaving her bound to the chair.
    At least she was warm. She could sit there in relative comfort and figure out how she was going to kill him when he got back.
    She looked at the fire. She should have put ice on her face, but for some reason she hadn’t wanted him to notice. His furious reaction was probably part of his “protect the innocents” thing. It was nothing personal. He couldn’t be feeling the extraordinary pull that she was. Of course, she wanted to kill him right now, but that was the least of what she wanted to do to him, with him.
    Illogical as it might be, she knew he was just where she was. Wanting, no matter how crazy it was. He’d kissed her, and when he pulled back and she looked into his eyes she’d recognized that same longing, that same, crazy sense of belonging. Of finally finding her way home.
    Her face throbbed with the heat, but her body began to relax. Too much adrenaline flooding her today, and there was no way she was going to be able to stay awake until he came back. In fact, it was better she be well-rested for his return, because she was going to kick his ass from here to Sunday.
    And then maybe she’d kiss him back.
    Â 
    F ITZ SLIPPED BACK into the old restaurant as silently as he could. She’d fallen asleep by the fire, which was a good thing, since she was going to be as mad as a hornet when she woke up. He’d had no choice but to cuff her—she was just too damned stubborn. It was one of the things he liked about her, but he couldn’t risk letting her follow him into trouble. The bruised face was a reminder of what he’d gotten her into, and he was damned if he was going to let her get hurt again.
    â€œI’m awake.” Her dry voice carried to the doorway where he stood, hesitating. “Come and tell me what’s going on and take these stupid handcuffs off me. I promise not to beat you up.”
    He laughed. “I’m trembling in my boots.”
    â€œYou’re not wearing boots, you’re wearing runners.”
    â€œRunners?”
    â€œSneakers, running shoes, whatever you call them. In the middle of