No explanations. No excuses. He didn’t even offer an apology, just that impersonal declaration. Laurie attempted to shrug it off, put on her pride like a cloak, and walked stiffly up the stairs. Why did his declaration bother her? After all, she wanted, needed, him to leave her alone. Didn’t she?
Several minutes later, she went back down wearing loose-fitting jeans and an old faded T-shirt. Her long brown hair swung in its usual ponytail while she pushed small tendrils from her face. Her bare feet made no sound as she rummaged and rattled around the kitchen. The aromas of bacon, eggs, and coffee soon filled the cabin. She turned her back on Damien, struggling to ignore him and his early morning passion.
Sounds reached her ears. The creak of the flimsy bedsprings and the rustle of bedclothes drew an involuntary nervous glance over her shoulder. He sat up and the blanket dropped to his waist. Keenly aware of his bare chest, she wanted to touch him, to smooth her hands over all that glorious muscle. She still felt his electrifying touch—his hands on her breasts, his mouth on hers.
She tensed under his penetrating stare as he tracked her every move around the kitchen.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
20
Stacy rustled around in the loft and Laurie fled to help her daughter dress, glad to have a few minutes respite from Damien’s dynamic, unnerving presence. When she returned, Stacy in tow, Damien sat at the table with a cup of coffee. He had dressed in black jeans and an old black sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off, showing every rippling muscle in his arms as he moved.
He looked so ruggedly, gloriously primitive, she stifled a groan of pure desire. His jet-black hair was combed, a few unruly strands curling around his ears. Brown eyes sparkled as he grinned at Stacy. She smiled brightly at him as she slid into the chair beside Laurie.
Laurie ate several bites, though everything tasted like sawdust and sipped her coffee before she looked across the table at Damien.
“Are we totally isolated here?” she asked in an effort to keep her mind off her newly rediscovered sex drive.
He glanced up from his plate. Though he didn’t smirk, a faint hint of amusement twinkled in his eyes.
“Not quite,” he replied. “I have a short-wave radio for necessary communication. And my men are in the woods.”
Disconcerted that he read so easily everything she wanted to keep hidden, Laurie tensed under his piercing regard. She noticed a brief puzzling flicker in his eyes, followed by a blank expression. A quick glance out the window revealed nothing except trees and shadows in the sunny morning.
“Where in the woods?”
“Don’t worry. We have plenty of privacy.” He paused, his eyes full of speculation as his gaze lingered on her. “I have to place a call after breakfast so you’ll have to go outside. It’s classified.”
Laurie arched an eyebrow in an expression that indicated she thought the time for secrecy had passed. However, she merely nodded acknowledgement and they finished breakfast in silence.
After she cleaned the kitchen, Laurie took Stacy outside, giving Damien his requested privacy. Though she had no other option, she did not want to be isolated with Damien for an undetermined period of time. Her peace of mind was threatened by something other than terrorists. How long could she hold her physical attraction at bay? He so obviously returned that attraction. He had aroused a desire in her that left her breathless and wanting, a desire stronger than any she had ever felt.
“Mommy,” Stacy broke into her thoughts. “There’s nothing to do here.”
Laurie sighed softly and grinned affectionately at her daughter as she wondered what to do about Damien. But children are never idle long. Laurie soon trailed after Stacy as she explored the small clearing. Discovering a tree near the side window, Stacy climbed it in a flash.
Laurie laughed but kept a sharp eye on her daughter as she moved from branch to branch like a monkey.
“Come up here, Mommy!” Stacy yelled enthusiastically from above her head.
“Absolutely
not,”
Laurie
replied firmly. “No way.”
“Laurie,” Damien spoke quietly behind her.
Startled, gasping, she jumped and spun around to face him. “You scared me to death,”
she accused trying to catch her breath as her heart pounded in her chest.
He glanced at her heaving breasts and she made a determined effort to control her breathing.
“Sorry,” he muttered, lifting his gaze to her eyes. “I need to talk to you.”
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
21
She blinked at his serious expression and nodded slowly, her mouth dry with the sudden anxiety in the pit of her stomach.