Whirlwind. Nancy Martin

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      “They’re well respected, I hear. And you’re not. So? Do you get your share of the family limelight by acting like a spoiled starlet?”

      “Boy, who put the chip on your shoulder?”

      He yanked the twisted fender with the tire iron. “Just don’t try muscling me the way you muscle the rest of your family, okay? I don’t give a damn if you go away and never come back—unlike your mother.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Nothing. Expect maybe you’ll find she’s glad you’ve come home.”

      “I haven’t come home,” she said quickly. “I’m just passing through. I may not even stop at the house. I don’t want to see them.”

      He heard a new note in her voice and glanced up to see Liza frowning. “Scared?”

      “No!”

      Cliff laughed at the swiftness of her exclamation. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re scared, all right.”

      “Who died and made you the Seer of All Things?”

      Cliff didn’t care to talk about himself. Why had he managed to find a pleasant isolation at this forgotten lodge if he wanted to spill his guts all the time? He didn’t. His past was his own business, and he could take as much time as he liked forgetting it. So he kept his mouth shut, which infuriated the pretty Miss Liza Baron.

      As he worked on the fender, she said, “You’re really annoying, you know.”

      “Because I won’t play your game?”

      “I don’t play games!”

      “Oh, yes, you do.”

      “I’m completely up-front with everyone. I—”

      “Like hell. You make everyone jump through hoops to prove how much they love you.” Cliff stood up and looked her straight in the eye. “Well, you can needle me all you like, Miss Baron. I’m not going to jump.”

      She leaned her backside against the car and crossed her long legs at the ankles, returning his glare with a measuring gaze. She raked her blond hair back with the manicured fingers of her right hand. “You like calling the shots, don’t you, Forrester?”

      “I like being my own boss, yeah.”

      “You like being in control.”

      He wiped his hands on his jeans and said, “I don’t like surprises, that’s all.”

      “Oh, really?” She began to smile wickedly. “Sometimes surprises can be nice.”

      “Most of the time, surprises can be damned annoying.”

      “Tsk tsk. What a boring attitude about life.”

      “How I live my life is none of your business.”

      “Want to know what I think?” she asked.

      “Not really.”

      “I think you could use a few surprises now and then, Cliff Forrester.”

      With that, she came away from the car with a fluid motion and caught the front of Cliff’s shirt in her hand. Her grip tightened, and she tugged, pulling him close enough to kiss. Her face was almost level with his, and her laughing blue eyes teased him boldly. Suddenly Cliff could smell the sweet fragrance of her perfumed hair and feel the lithe strength of her legs against his.

      She said, “How about one right now?”

      She didn’t wait to be kissed, but lifted her mouth up to his and caught his lips swiftly. She tasted crisp and warm, and when she slanted her mouth across his, Cliff felt his senses quicken. His blood was suddenly tingling everywhere, a tide of heat beating hard in all his nerve endings. Liza’s tongue found his and played a mischievous game for a moment. Sensations Cliff had thought were long gone came bubbling up from a secret place deep inside, and surprised the hell out of him, all right. Standing there in a shaft of sunlight with the vibrant young body of Liza Baron pressed provocatively against him, Cliff felt his mind go blank. And his body come alive.

      Then it was over. She loosened her grip on his shirt, leaned back and tilted her head to look him saucily in the eye. The lazy pleasure that shone in her gaze exactly matched the expression on the face of the little devil that swung from her earlobe.

      “See?” she breathed. “A surprise can be very nice.”

      Sometime in the past ten seconds, Cliff’s hands had found their way to her arms, and he held her very tightly. From between clenched teeth, he said, “You take a lot of chances, don’t you?”

      “I like to feel good.”

      “You like playing with fire, I think. I wonder if you’ve ever been burned?”

      He couldn’t stop himself. Her cocky smile, the tease in her eyes, the supple contour of her body—yes, all those things combined to trigger an inexplicable anger in Cliff. He found himself gripping Liza hard, pulling her close and kissing her with every ounce of pent-up energy inside himself.

      With a sigh, she gave herself to him, abruptly relaxing in his arms. One of her knees eased between his two, and her hands crept slowly around Cliff’s neck as the kiss deepened into a hot and savory contact.

      But Cliff didn’t want her relaxed. He knew her game and intended to change the rules. Swiftly, he tightened his grip on Liza and forced her back against the car. She squirmed and choked on a protest. She clutched his shoulders for balance and then fought the kiss like a wildcat. Roughly, Cliff pushed her mouth open and ravaged her tongue with his own. He could feel her breast quiver against his chest, and her breath came in gasps.

      Then he tasted blood.

      At once, Cliff let her go. His stomach churned, and he found he was trembling as he stepped back.

      Liza sat up on the car, hastily straightening her tiny dress where it had slipped low on one of her breasts. There was blood on her lip again, a bright droplet where he’d been kissing her a moment before.

      “What was that for?” she asked shakily, lifting her hand to her lip and staring at the blood that came away on her fingertips.

      “I don’t like being manipulated, Miss Baron.”

      She looked up, blue eyes widening. “I wasn’t manipulating you. I just thought—”

      “You couldn’t get under my skin verbally, so you tried the next best way to get a reaction out of me.” Cliff half turned away, angry with her and disgusted with himself. “That was a stupid trick,” he snapped. “It could have gotten you into a lot of trouble.”

      “I don’t think so,” she said, studying him with an unnerving solemnity. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

      He cursed under his breath—half at himself for reacting to her ploy. He was shaking inside.

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