Kiss Me Forever/Love Me Forever. Rosemary Laurey

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      Christopher! A slow shiver snaked down Dixie’s spine at the knock on the door. She just knew he stood outside and she didn’t want to see him. Her anger and confusion over finding her date book in his kitchen had gelled into a cold hurt. While she’d thought him a friend, he’d been prying into her life. Christopher wanted something from her. Fine. He could have the books they’d agreed on and nothing more.

      “Hi,” she said. Whatever else she’d planned to say stayed in her throat. He was beautiful. Hair dark as midnight shone in the light from the door. The same light that gleamed on the leather covering his shoulders and turned the pallor of his skin to nacre. He smiled. Dixie forbade her heart to thaw.

      “Hello, Dixie,” he said. It sounded like the opening bars of a sonata. Warmth caressed her skin. Hope and excitement wriggled in her belly. She dug her heels in the doormat and clenched every muscle in her back.

      “Why, hello, Christopher.” At this rate the conversation wouldn’t go far enough to cause problems.

      “I’ve been away for a couple of days.”

      That explained the deserted house but not the car parked in front. “Have a good trip?”

      “Visited a friend in town.”

      This was ludicrous. Talking on the doorstep, as if he were a brush salesman. She had to get rid of him. She didn’t want him in the house. She didn’t trust herself near him. Just standing this close she could smell him and if she dared think about it, she’d imagine his touch again. “I ran into Guildford today and dropped off the books. I’ll have a valuation by Friday.”

      “Wonderful. Just name your price.” He took a fourth of a step forward. “Could I come in?”

      “No!” It came out like a muffled shriek that tore the roots of her mind. “Not now.” Ten minutes in the same room as him and her resolve would fade as surely as daylight. “It’s not a good time.” She gestured with her head to imply someone was in the house. The lie ripped deep within her. The look on Christopher’s face made her want to cringe.

      “Indeed,” he said and stepped backwards out of the circle of light. A shadow seemed to slip over him. “Get back to me, Dixie. When it’s a good time.”

      In the dark, she never even saw him reach the gate. Slamming and locking the front door, she leaned against it. Her heart raced like a Derby winner, her chest heaved so fast each breath hurt. Her blood seethed in her veins, pounded her temples and surged like a boiling flood ready to burst a dam. She wanted Christopher. She wanted his arms around her, his body against hers and his lips’ warm caress. Forget it. Never. Not now.

      Visceral pain tore through her. She pressed into the heavy oak door as if pulled by an outside force. She shook and wanted to cry out his name, but hurt gagged every sound but a moan. Her body slumped, her legs wobbled like a newborn foal’s, and her lungs felt filled with concrete. Only her fingers clenched around the doorknob and her hip against the mail slot stopped her from crumpling on the doormat.

      Her breathing normalized. Her heart rate calmed. Shaking her head as if stunned, she wobbled back to the kitchen. A half-eaten baked potato waited on the table. Dixie wasn’t sure if she remembered how to chew. That did it! No man was tweaking her buttons. The minute they concluded their deal, she wanted nothing more to do with Christopher Marlowe.