Free Christmas Getaway by Tina Leonard and Marion Lennox Anne Stuart Page A

a snowstorm, no less.”
    She was sounding reasonable enough, so he approached her, still wary. Her head-butt had been impressive—she wasn’t the type to pull her punches.
    â€œNext time I’m shot and have to run for my life I’ll try to plan better,” he said. Her hair was in her eyes and her mouth was set in a stubborn line, and he wanted a thousand things that he couldn’t have. “You’re not going to hit me, are you? Remember, I’m a wounded man.”
    She snorted. “I have every confidence in my skills as a doctor. Your color’s good, you aren’t favoring your right side and you didn’t scream when I whacked you.”
    â€œI’ll have you know I don’t scream. I just manage a manly grunt.” She was holding out her cuffed hands, and he unfastened them, still ready to duck if she came at him.
    She simply stayed in the chair, rubbing her wrists, and awave of guilt washed over him. “Why did you struggle and hurt your wrists? You knew I’d come back.”
    â€œThis was from earlier. When I was cuffed to the bar and then tossed all over the backseat of the police car,” she said. “Of course, you forgot to consider that.”
    He sat back on his heels, looking at her. The fire was putting out waves of heat, and he stripped off the stupid Christmas sweatshirt and tossed it on the floor, his eyes still looking deeply into hers. Not believing what he saw, not caring. How could he be wanting this, so badly, when men were trying to kill them?
    â€œDid you talk to Spinelli?”
    â€œI didn’t. There are two undercover cops staking out the place, and I couldn’t just stroll up the sidewalk and knock on the door. The back of the house leads onto the beach, but it’s private and fenced in. At least O’Bannion and Morrissey are out of the picture.”
    â€œThey are? How can you be sure?”
    â€œO’Bannion’s supposed to be getting married in Texas around now, and Morrissey’s his best man. They were already cutting it close when they followed us to New Hampshire, and I’m willing to bet they’re on their way to the wedding to keep from arousing suspicion. I happen to know the men who are staking out Spinelli’s. They’re in O’Bannion’s pocket and they’ll do what he orders, no questions asked. They’d shoot me even if they weren’t ordered to—to them I’m a cop killer. But those two are dirty cops, and I’m betting they’re part of the whole mess.”
    â€œSo what are we going to do?”
    â€œI don’t know,” he said wearily. “Figure out a way to get to Spinelli before the cops get tired of waiting for me to come to them and decide to search for us.”
    She pushed away from the chair, moving closer to the fire. She was a big woman, tall and strong, no shrinking violet. He looked at her, silhouetted against the fire, and he couldn’t think about O’Bannion and Tommy, about the two cops parked down the street from Spinelli’s, about stolen diamonds and dead partners. For the moment all he could think about was wanting her.
    He was going to hell for sure.
    She, of course, was entirely oblivious to what he was thinking. “What time is it? It feels like the middle of the night.”
    â€œJust after six. The sun sets early this time of year. There’s a diner in town where we can get something to eat if it seems safe enough. The cops won’t leave their stakeout and I’m starving. Otherwise we stay here until I come up with something.”
    â€œStay here?” She turned to face him. “Stay here and do what? Wait to be killed?”
    He said nothing, rose to his feet and moved toward her. She didn’t back away. She just looked at him.
    â€œWe’re not going to be killed.” He had to be imagining the heat, the strong tide of longing that stretched between them like a lava