Free The Reluctant Hero by Lorraine Heath

it.
    For a while he’d thought he’d been able to see her silhouette sitting there. He’d imagined that she was inviting him over, would welcome him. He didn’t remember getting up from the bench or heading toward the hotel. He wanted another kiss. He wanted a night of just holding her, of listening to her, hoarding the final moments of the single day that he’d promised to grant her.
    But in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, to cross the street to the hotel, to go up to her room and ask her to invite him in. She wasn’t the kind of woman who gave herself easily. And he was the kind of man who only deserved the kind of woman she wasn’t.
    He’d knocked on the door at the closed general store until Tom had finally come out from the back where he was no doubt working on his ledgers, inspecting his inventory. With Tom grumbling the entire time, Matt had gone inside and bought that dime novel that Tom had been boasting about earlier.
    Now he was stretched out on his bed, staring at words that Andi had written, wondering when she’d become Andi to him, wondering what words she might write about him. If there would be any truth in them.
    He heard the door to his office open and close.
    Very slowly, he reached beneath the pillow and wrapped his fingers around the cold ivory of his Colt. He released his grip when he saw her standing in the doorway to his room.
    Swinging his legs off the bed, clutching the book, he came to his feet. “What are you doing here?”
    His voice was raspy, strangled.
    She licked her lower lip, and he could see the doubts harbored in her eyes. “You promised me today,” she said quietly. “It’s not yet tomorrow. We’ve got a couple of more hours.”
    Reaching out, he set the book on the table beside his bed, then took three steps closer to her. “I don’t work at my desk at night.”
    â€œI didn’t think you did.”
    â€œI don’t leave this room—”
    â€œI know.”
    With a low feral growl, he drew her into his arms, slanted his mouth over hers, and kissed her deeply, hungrily, holding nothing back. He was wearing only trousers. He inhaled sharply as she explored his back, the first touch of a woman’s hands against his bare skin in so long that the pleasure of it nearly drove him to his knees.
    Drawing back from her mouth, he cradled her face and held her gaze. “If you’re not wanting any more than kissin’, tell me now.”
    â€œAre you going to send me away if that’s all I want?”
    â€œI couldn’t send you away if my life depended on it, but if kissin’ is all you want, I’ll keep my pants on.”
    â€œAnd if it’s not?” she asked, almost shyly.
    â€œThen my pants are coming off and so is your dress and anything that you’re wearing underneath it.”
    He saw the heat of desire flare in her eyes. “I’m not wearing anything at all under my dress.”
    He felt as though she’d delivered a kick to the center of his chest. “God Almighty.”
    Then her boldness retreated, and her hesitancy returned. She cupped his jaw, stroked her thumb over his mustache. “Matt, I’ve never . . . lain with a man before. I’m not afraid of you, but I am—”
    â€œShh.” He placed his thumb against her lips. “I’ll make it good for you, darlin’. We’ve got until the sun comes up.”
    He lowered his mouth to hers, knowing that if he were indeed the hero she so desperately wanted, he’d send her away.
    He wouldn’t loosen her buttons, one by one.
    He wouldn’t part the material and move her dress off her shoulders. He wouldn’t watch with rapt fascination as it slid down her body and pooled at her feet.
    He wouldn’t feel his body tighten with wanting, wouldn’t rasp, “You’re so beautiful.”
    He wouldn’t take her hand and lead her to the