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Her Cowboy Distraction(18)

By:Carla Cassidy


She smiled at him and at the same time felt the wetness of tears  beginning to fill her eyes as she thought of those moments when she'd  been certain she was going to die.

This time it was he who reached for her. He pulled her against him and  wrapped his arms tight around her back. She melted against his strong  chest. Even though she told herself she wanted nothing from him except a  little bit of comfort, at that moment, with his heartbeat racing  against her own, she knew she wanted more.

He held her as if he never wanted to let her go, and she reveled in his  embrace. For the first time since she'd stepped out of the café that  night to head to her cabin, she felt safe and protected.

She wanted to stay there forever, to allow time and the very movement of  Earth to occur without intruding in their space. She wanted nothing of  the outside world to ruin this moment of simply existing in his arms.

All too quickly his arms dropped to his side and he leaned back from  her. He raised a hand and caressed with gentle fingers across her  throat. "I wish I just understood why this happened."                       
       
           



       

"That makes two of us," she replied. She felt half-breathless standing so close to him, with his gaze smoky and intent on her.

"Lizzy, I'm only going to do this once, and that's only because I've  been thinking about it since the first time you faced me across the  booth," he said.

She knew at that moment he intended to kiss her. His gaze lingered on  her mouth, a hot promise in his eyes as he leaned in for conquest.

She hadn't expected this. She wasn't prepared for the kiss, wasn't  prepared for him to be in her life here and now, but that didn't stop  her from yearning for the feel of his lips against hers.

When his mouth touched hers, his lips were sizzling hot, as she'd known  they'd be, but she hadn't expected the hunger that instantly overwhelmed  her as she opened her mouth to eagerly accept his kiss.

She had no idea if it was his hunger or her own that roared out of  control. She only knew that his tongue whirled with hers in a wild dance  of desire and she was lost in the smoking sensuality of him.

She'd expected a kiss to be a simple thing, but there was nothing  remotely simple about the way Daniel Jefferson kissed. He nibbled, he  tasted and he acted as if it might be the very last time in his life  that he had the opportunity to kiss a woman.

He raised his hands to her cheeks, framing her face as if it were an  exquisite piece of art. His hands were slightly rough, the hands of a  working man, and she loved the way they felt against her skin.

By the time the kiss ended, Lizzy felt like a hot pool of want. Her  knees threatened to buckle beneath her with the force of her desire for  him.

She thought she saw the same emotion in him, the intense longing for  more, but it was there only a second and then hidden as his eyes  darkened and he stepped several inches back from her.

"I had to do that once, but it would be foolish for us to allow it to  happen again or to take it any further," he said, his voice sounding  deeper than usual. "Neither one of us are in a place in our lives where  kissing each other makes any kind of sense." He took another step back  from her. "So, I'll just say good night."

As she watched him head down the hallway to his bedroom, she knew he was  right, but just once in her life she would have liked to be foolish and  end up with him in his bed.





Chapter 7

Daniel rode on the back of Dandy the next morning, his thoughts rumbling  a hundred miles an hour in his head and in as many directions.

Who wanted Lizzy out of town, and why? Had she flirted with somebody and  then spurned him as a potential lover? Had she dated somebody else  before spending time with Daniel, and now that person was in some sort  of rage?

When he got back to the house he intended to ask her some hard questions  in hopes that they would get some answers that made sense of the whole  thing.

A smile of amusement lifted his lips as he thought of her theory about  anger. Still, as amusing as he'd found the conversation this morning, he  was wondering if perhaps there was a lot of truth to what she'd said.

Anger was an easy emotion to grasp on to, one that masked deeper, more  profound emotions inside. Had he been angry with Janice on that fatal  night? He'd certainly thought so at the time and in the weeks and months  since the accident.

But, now in retrospect, it hadn't been anger that had driven that final  argument. On his part, he'd been frustrated and felt guilty with her  demands, and he knew she had been impatient and disappointed that he was  going to break a promise to her. So many emotions had existed between  them, and yet they both had grabbed on to anger to use as a sword  against each other.

He shook his head, wanting to, needing to dispel the fight that night  that had ultimately led to Janice's death. Besides, it was hard to think  about Janice when Lizzy so filled his mind.

That kiss.

That damnable kiss.

It had kept him tossing and turning through the night, wanting more,  needing more from Lizzy. She'd become a burning in his soul. Each and  every time he was with her he wanted to wrap her in his arms and carry  her to bed. She fascinated him with her lists and outlook on life, with  her observations of people and emotions.

But, the last thing he wanted to do was bind himself in any way to a  woman who would ultimately leave him. He had no desire to experience any  kind of heartbreak again.

Lizzy would stay at his place for a couple of days. Sheriff Evans would  find out who was responsible for the attack on her, and then Lizzy would  be gone and he'd be left the way she'd found him-alone and miserable.

He checked the fencing and then turned Dandy around to head back to the  house. It wasn't true. She wouldn't leave him the way she'd found him.  With her effervescence and obvious zest for life, she'd breathed a new  appreciation of life back into him.                       
       
           



       

He was ready to move on from the tragedy that he had allowed to define  him as a man. It wouldn't be with Lizzy, but at least after she left  he'd be open again to socializing with the townspeople, with holding his  head up high.

Maybe that had been fate's reason for bringing her to Grady Gulch and to  him, to remind him of the joy that surrounded him if he just put aside  his guilt and misery long enough to enjoy it.

It was just after eight when he walked into the house and was struck by  the scent of warm maple syrup and coffee. He stood in the threshold of  the kitchen and watched Lizzy, who had her back to him. She'd apparently  found a waffle iron in the cabinets that he rarely explored, and she  was humming under her breath as she poured batter into the contraption.

He stood breathlessly still, just enjoying the sight of her. She was  clad in a pair of pink pajamas with a robe thrown over the top. Her hair  was still slightly mussed, as if she'd hurriedly climbed out of bed,  washed her face and then had come downstairs to find breakfast.

He thought he'd never seen a woman who looked so sexy, and he could  easily imagine that wonderful scent of warm, half-asleep woman mingling  with the residual fragrance of her exotic perfume.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts.  She whirled around to look at him, and a beautiful smile danced across  her features. "Ah, perfect timing. Waffles are going to be ready in  about three minutes."

"You don't have to cook for me," he said as he walked over to the countertop that held the coffeemaker.

"And what makes you think I'm cooking for you?" she asked with a teasing  smile. "I woke up with a ravenous appetite for waffles. I just figured  if I was making them for myself, I'd be nice and make a couple for you,  too." She flashed him a quick grin. "Besides, cooking for you is the  least I can do since you're giving me safe haven."

He carried a cup of coffee to the table and sat, his gaze lingering on her as she turned back around to attend to the waffles.

He wanted her. Even the knowledge that she'd be leaving town very soon  couldn't stanch the need that burned in his stomach. It was as if she  hadn't just awakened him to the world around him, but had fired up his  hormones to combustible levels.

"Here we are," she said as she placed a platter of waffles in the center  of the table. "Now just a little butter and some hot syrup, and we're  in business." She poured the heated syrup into a small stoneware pitcher  and added it and a tub of butter to the table.

She sat across from him with a cup of coffee in hand. "Dig in," she said. "They aren't good if they get cold."

"Did you sleep well?" he asked as he speared one of the waffles with his fork.