Free Fire And Ice by Diana Palmer Page B

do. But I can take care of myself, big brother. And of Jan, if she’ll let me.”
    Cannon studied the younger man. “We’ll do some serious talking one of these days.”
    Andy nodded. “I think we’ll have to.”
    “I’m going for a drive,” Cannon said, turning. “Get a wrap and come with me, Margie.”
    She glared up at him. “Not me,” she replied.
    “Yes you. I’ll take you for a romantic ride in the moonlight,” he chided.
    She studied his hard face and sighed. Well, it was inevitable that she was going to have to stand up to him. It might as well be tonight—then she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her vacation wondering when it would come.
    “If I’m not back in two hours,” Margie told Victorine in a stage whisper, “call the sheriff and tell him you suspect foul play.”
    Victorine laughed at her. “I will, but I’ll do my best to protect you, dear. I’ll swear he drove you to it….”
    * * *
    “I must be out of my mind to go off with you,” Margie told him once they were on the road.
    “Especially at night,” he agreed. “So why did you?”
    She stared down at her lap, where the neon lights from signs along the highway made colorful patterns. “I don’t know. I could have cheerfully choked you earlier.”
    “You fight for your sister, honey. Don’t expect me to do less for my brother.”
    She turned her attention to the whitecaps that were just visible behind the rows of motels, crashing on the wet beach. “In other words, it’s all in the point of view?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Where are we going?” she asked.
    He glanced at her. “That question has a familiar ring. Do you always suspect me of evil motives when I get into a car with you?”
    She laughed. “Is that how I sounded? I was just curious.”
    “Don’t worry,” he said, executing a turn that led them onto a long stretch of road paralleling the beach. “I won’t try to stop at any motels.”
    Her cheeks went hot. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”
    “No?” He glanced her way. “Most of the time you act as if I were an escaped rapist.”
    “You told me yourself that you weren’t a gentle man,” she said, clenching her fingers together in her lap.
    He glanced sideways. “The word I used was lover,” he reminded her. “And I think you may have misunderstood me. I meant that I was demanding in bed, not cruel.”
    She felt her face burn, but she knew the dim light wasn’t going to reveal that.
    “No comment?’ he asked. He let up on the accelerator while he took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
    “I’m nursing my bruises,” she murmured.
    “You wouldn’t have any if you hadn’t tried to break my jaw,” he reminded her.
    “Well, you insulted me!” she accused.
    “And just what the hell were you doing to me?” he returned. “I wouldn’t presume to brag, but my God, it’s been twenty years since I had to fight for a kiss from any woman—and it’s never been called `disgusting.’”
    She began to understand his attitude, and felt a little ashamed of herself. He was a proud man, and her description of that kiss must have hurt something vulnerable in him. She’d been afraid, and nervous of liking it too much, but in no way had he disgusted her. She began to wonder if he ever could.
    “I shouldn’t have said that,” she admitted quietly. “It wasn’t true.”
    He took a long draw from the cigarette. “I’m not usually rough with woman,” he said after a minute. “I’ve never forced one. Damn it, it’s the way you react to me,” he added gruffly. “I can’t get near you.”
    “And I’ve told you already, it’s nothing personal,” she threw back. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t enjoy sex,” she confessed quietly. “It’s something I can’t help, so please just accept it and don’t…don’t push.”
    He pulled the car off the road onto a small paved area with picnic tables overlooking a stretch of sand dunes and scrub grass and