Any Man Of Mine. Diana Palmer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ you can stop me?” he asked politely, gazing at her with that level, devastating stare that made her want to back away slowly.

      “I’m not alone and defenseless,” she reminded him, turning to the nearest painter, a rugged-looking individual about Nicholas’s age.

      “That’s right, lady,” the painter agreed, pausing with his brush raised to give Nicholas his best threatening look.

      Nicholas lifted his hard, broad face and stared up at the man unblinkingly. “I hope your insurance is current,” he remarked politely.

      The painter turned back to his work and began painting with a vengeance. “Like I said, lady, I’d give the poor tired man a room,” he murmured sheepishly.

      Keena glared at him before she transferred her irritated stare to the other painter, who pulled his cap low over his eyes and began to whistle softly.

      Nicholas grinned at her before he turned and started up the staircase again.

      She followed along behind him, her temper exploding like silent fireworks inside her taut body, watching helplessly while he peeked into the first room he came to, then the second, before he finally settled on the third. It was, as he had guessed, unoccupied, with bed linen neatly piled at the foot of the large, four-poster bed.

      “This will do,” he murmured, glaring around him at the antique furniture. He set the suitcase down and went to the window. “Nice view. Does it have a bathroom?”

      “In between this bedroom and the other one,” Keena said. “But that needn’t concern you. You aren’t staying.”

      He turned around and let his eyes roam over her taut figure. “God, you’re pretty when you want to bite. Come over here and put up your fists, you little firecracker,” he taunted in a deep, velvety voice.

      “What are you doing here?” she challenged, feeling the ground slowly being cut from under her feet.

      He shrugged. “What does it look like? I’m moving in.”

      “For how long?” she demanded fiercely.

      “For as long as it takes to bring you to your senses,” he replied calmly. His dark eyes searched her flushed face. “You can’t go back, honey,” he added quietly. “I won’t let you.”

      Her color deepened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

      “Yes, you do.” He moved forward, one corner of his firm, chiseled mouth going up as he noticed her involuntary step backward. “Don’t panic. I’m not going to throw you on the bed. Not now, anyway. I’ve got work to do. Is there a study?”

      “Downstairs,” she managed through her fury. “But it’s full of painters.”

      “So is the rest of the house. Are they leaving, or are you adopting them?”

      “They’ll be gone tomorrow,” she replied. “Nicholas, you can’t stay here,” she added, trying to reason with him. “It’s a small town. People will go wild gossiping. They’ll think you’re my lover!”

      “They might be right,” he said, moving forward again. “Come here.”

      “Nicholas!” She backed right up to the closed door.

      He trapped her there with his big arms on either side of her head, his eyes dancing with devilish amusement, the shimmering depths secretive, mysterious. “Shy?” he murmured. “You were flirting with Harris for all you were worth. Why not try it with me?”

      “Because I don’t want to be fitted with a straitjacket, and how did you know it was James?” she asked nervously. The deliciously expensive scent of his cologne settled around her like a sensuous mist, and she tried not to be so aware of the size and strength of his body, the heat of it warming her in the faint chill of the room.

      “I recognized the sickening adoration in your eyes, little fox,” he murmured. His dark eyes pinned hers. “You may think you can pick up where you left off all those years ago, but you’re going to find that it’s not possible.”

      “It’s my life, Nicholas,” she reminded him.

      “So it is,” he agreed. “But I’m not going to let that anemic snob cut you up a second time.”

      She tried to get closer to the door, but the cold wood wouldn’t give under her shoulder blades.

      “I do appreciate the thought,” she said. “But how are you going to spare the time?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes. It was frankly predatory. “As you’re so fond of telling me, you’re a busy man.”

      His eyes glittered with amusement. “All work and no play...” he murmured, bending.

      She watched his face come closer with a nervous sense of inevitability. No wonder he’d gotten so far in business, she thought dimly as his mouth brushed lightly against her forehead. He was unstoppable, like a runaway locomotive.

      “You’ll go through that door in a minute,” he murmured lazily. “Why don’t you move toward me instead?”

      “You’re making me nervous,” she choked. Her lovely eyes had a faintly haunted look; her black hair was brushed with fiery lights in the glare of the window.

      “Is that what it is?” he murmured. He moved, holding her eyes while he eased the full weight of his flat stomach and powerful thighs down against her as he guided her slender body down on the bed. She felt the warm, heavy crush with a sense of awe. She’d never been so close to him before, felt so overwhelmed by him. The kiss they’d shared in the Rolls, as ardent as it was, couldn’t compare with the sensations this was causing. She’d never dreamed that she could drown in her awareness like this.

      His powerful arms bent, and his chest gently flattened her soft breasts. His watchful eyes never left hers, reading signs in them like a Native American after tracks.

      She began to tremble under the contact. He had to feel it, too.

      “Nick...” she whispered brokenly.

      “Fire and kindling,” he whispered deeply, shifting his powerful body sensuously against hers. “We make flames when we touch like this.”

      A wave of intolerable sensation washed the length of her trapped body. Her hands, pressed helplessly against the warm front of his white shirt, began to move slowly, caressingly, against the smooth, hard muscles.

      “Nick,” she moaned, her eyes half-closed, her body suddenly, involuntarily, answering his. She pressed closer, molding her body to fit the hard, sensuous contours of his. Her fingers curled under the top button of his shirt.

      “Unbutton it, Keena,” he murmured deeply, searching her eyes in the blazing, throbbing silence that stretched like a blanket around them. “Touch me.”

      Her eyes wandered in his while she took the pearly button out of the buttonhole and lightly touched the warm, hair-covered flesh underneath it. She felt the powerful muscles contract beneath her hands.

      “You...feel like...warm stone,” she whispered unsteadily, burying her fingers in the СКАЧАТЬ