Kiss Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

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СКАЧАТЬ at her with an intensity that made her shiver. This close, his one eye seemed to warm as it met hers. For a minute she felt weak, giddy. Then she shook herself out of it. The tension was getting to her.

      “You’ve got to be kidding!” Sit in the car while he confronted a possibly armed intruder?

      He frowned. “Don’t get so riled up. I want you ready for a quick getaway if things get nasty.”

      It sounded more like antiquated notions of chivalry. “Why lock it then?”

      He pulled her closer and whispered, “Are you trying to be difficult?”

      Again the giddiness, the feeling of warmth, of weakness. She had drunk too much this evening. “No. Sensible. You mentioned weapons. Why are you barging in unarmed?”

      He chuckled. “I’m Superman, remember?” He took her hesitation as consent. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing. Wait in the car. I may need your help later.”

      Grudgingly, Dixie agreed and went out the side gate but didn’t go straight to her car. A car parked up the side lane caught her attention. Christopher’s? She imagined him driving something more stylish than a battered compact. Bennie the Burglar’s? Why not? With the help of her flashlight, she memorized the number.

      So much for country quiet. Rustles, creaks and whines filled the night. Talk about spooky! She decided to ignore them and her body’s reaction to being held close by Christopher. Impatience tugged at Dixie. This was crazy. She was going back.

      A shriek cut through the night quiet. A door slammed and Dixie ran round the corner just in time to see a dark figure running for the parked car. The engine started, but as the car pulled away down the road, a second figure ran after it. Christopher? The car swerved just as he came alongside. Dixie’s heart stilled as Christopher’s body arched through the air, frozen in the headlights. She raced up the lane as he staggered out of the ditch.

      “You were supposed to be in your car.”

      “You’re hurt?” He had to be.

      “Just shaken.”

      Shaken? He had to be injured after that fall. She imagined broken bones, internal injuries—but he was standing. “I’ll get the car. You need a doctor.” Without waiting for a reply, she tore down the lane. When she got back, he was leaning against a tree. As she stopped, he opened the passenger door.

      “May I get in?”

      He stood there, holding on to the door. Was this British or something? “Of course! Get in!” He got in, his legs a little too long for a compact car. Dixie flicked on the interior light. “That was a homicidal maniac, not a burglar.”

      “I’m okay. I just wish you’d seen the car number.”

      That did it. “Let’s have a reality check here. You’re half dead and you’re worrying about a registration number. Anyway, I have it.” She recited the memorized numbers, amazed that she remembered them after all this panic. “Now, let me look at you.”

      He didn’t appear to be bleeding, but he had mud on his face and clothes, grass in his hair and his cashmere sweater wouldn’t see any more cocktail parties. One shoulder showed white where his shirt and sweater were both ripped open. She reached out to touch him. He had to be bleeding from a gash like that.

      His hand closed on her wrist. “Go easy, my dear.”

      “You might be bleeding.” He had some grip for a man who’d barely escaped death.

      “I’m not.”

      “Let me check.”

      He put her hand on the steering wheel. “If you fancy tearing the clothes off a man, you had your chance with Caughleigh. Spare me. Your house is safe for the night.”

      “Forget the house! What about you? You’re seeing a doctor.”

      His fingers closed over her hand as she clutched the gear stick. “Get this straight. I am not seeing a doctor and you are going home. I am not hurt.”

      “You have to be. I saw you tossed through the air.”

      “Ever heard of Jujitsu, Dixie? I know how to fall.”

      He couldn’t sit that straight, grip like a maniac and argue if he were hurting, and his chest would heave if he’d had some injury.

      “You are Superman, aren’t you?”

      “You believe in him, do you?”

      She gave up—almost. She insisted on driving him home. He acquiesced, but refused to let her even come up his path. “I’ve a reputation to consider even if you haven’t,” he said. “Imagine the talk—you refuse Sebastian and then hotfoot it over to my house. We’d have to fight a duel for certain.”

      “I thought they became illegal in the last century.”

      “I’m a man with roots in the past.” He squeezed her hand, as if in farewell. Dixie wasn’t ready to have him go. She touched his shoulder and reached to kiss him good-bye. It wasn’t much for a man who’d risked his life to protect her property.

      She aimed for his cheek. He turned and her mouth met his lips, cool as the marble on her pantry shelf. But as her lips caressed his, she knew only warmth and softness. He tasted of night and spice and excitement. Her mouth opened as his pressed on hers, but slowly, like a plant unfolding in spring warmth. Almost reluctantly, his hand smoothed up her neck and through her hair. She sighed and her tongue reached for his.

      The heat of summer burst through her. She gasped, but not for breath; for more. And he gave it. Sweetness flooded her soul and need surged like a current through her brain. It was a mating of mouths, a coupling of spirits. Time stopped. Dixie knew nothing but spiraling warmth and an aching need for more.

      “Christopher,” she murmured as he pulled away.

      “Remember my reputation,” he teased. She leaned into his strong shoulder. His fingers smoothed her neck from her ear to her throat. His touch promised heaven. She prayed he’d never stop. That he’d ask her to stay. Anything to feel this way forever. Her hand reached for his chest, searching for shirt buttons, questing warm, male flesh.

      His hand closed over hers. “Dixie, we have to stop. I need time to rest.” She sat up. How thoughtless of her! He was injured, bruised at the very least and here she was, jumping his bones. “Go back to Emily’s and stay there. Don’t try any heroics over the house. It’s safe for tonight. Promise?”

      She agreed but waited until the door closed behind him. She would have stopped by her house but she’d given her word. She couldn’t break a promise made after a kiss like that.

      Undressing in the room under the eaves, Dixie glanced at her watch. The whole incident with Christopher, her house and the maniac intruder had lasted less than a half-hour. She stifled a shiver. It was over. She didn’t need to worry. She was too worn to worry. Repulsing amorous swains, chasing robbers and aiding the wounded had worn her out. She tossed her clothes on the chair and fell into bed without even brushing her teeth. Emily’s linen sheets felt like cool, soothing balm to her worn body but nothing eased the turmoil in her brain. What had she done? Acted like a crazy wanton. СКАЧАТЬ