Paper Rose. Diana Palmer

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      He sighed. “I’ve taken care of Cecily for eight years,” he reminded her. “Even without the cultural differences, I’m in the position of a guardian to her, whether she likes it or not. I can’t take advantage of what she feels for me.”

      “Of course you can’t.” Leta linked her fingers together. “Drive safely.”

      He pulled a small package from his jacket pocket. “Give this to her after I’m gone. It’s her birthday present.” He smiled ruefully. “We weren’t speaking, so she didn’t get it on her birthday.”

      “She may not want it.”

      He knew that. It hurt. “Try.”

      She watched him drive away down the winding dirt road that cut through to the main highway. She knew that one day soon she was going to have to share a painful truth with him. Things were happening that he didn’t know about. Things that involved herself and Matt Holden and some vicious men in chauffeured limousines and the tribal chief. It was not a prospect she relished.

      Chapter Four

      Cecily lived on dreams for a week while she tried to come to grips with the monumental change in her relationship with Tate. Even if he’d resorted to bad temper to get out of a potentially embarrassing situation, he’d felt something. Lying in his arms, feeling his hungry kisses on her mouth, the touch of his hands on her face and her throat, she could sense his hunger for her. The wonderful thing was that she hadn’t been afraid. It occurred to her that the revulsion she felt with other men wasn’t completely because of her traumatic flight from home. Part of it was because her heart was set on Tate. He was the only man for her. She’d always known that he was fond of her. Until he kissed her, though, she hadn’t known that he wanted her, too.

      But it was obvious that Tate wasn’t going to give in to his feelings, regardless of how strong they were. In a way she couldn’t blame him. They’d had this discussion before, almost two years ago, when she’d teased him about the mythical prophylactics she carried around with her. By exaggerating her feelings for him, she’d hidden them. But now, after her headlong response, he probably knew the truth. It had been, she recalled, much too obvious that she loved his kisses.