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Taming the Lone Wolff(49)

By:Janice Maynard


                He dropped Winnie off at her room and returned fifteen minutes later to find her ready and waiting. Leaving the house was a last-ditch effort to keep himself from doing something he shouldn’t.

                The elegant woman with whom he’d shared dinner had disappeared, replaced by a more familiar, but no less appealing Winnie. She wore a shapeless sweatshirt, old jeans and low-topped hiking shoes. Her hair was still up in a twist, but it was looking a little worse for wear.

                His mood improved drastically when she smiled. And as he ushered her in front of him down the stairs and out a side door, he felt a surge of excitement at the chance to share with her his childhood home. “I’ll show you around the house tomorrow,” he promised. “But for now, I want you to meet the mountain.”

                The night was black, the inky expanse peopled only by stars. With the canopy of large trees compounding the darkness, they were forced to walk slowly. He had a flashlight, but he knew Winnie would enjoy the experience more if they let their eyes adjust to the gloom.

                He didn’t hold her hand. Too much temptation there. But he supported her elbow in spots where the terrain was rough. Winnie had a long stride for a small woman, and he didn’t have to slow his pace to accommodate her.

                The silence between them was comfortable, broken only by the hoot of an owl or the rustling of unseen animals in the underbrush. The more he walked, the more the memories flooded back. He’d been very small when the family came here, perhaps not even five. But those early days were burned into his brain. He and Devlyn and Annalise had been shell-shocked over their mother’s death.

                And filled with a bone-deep relief that conversely tormented them with guilt.

                “It’s my turn,” Winnie said, her voice muted to accommodate the night. “What are you thinking about?”

                Larkin never talked about the past…not even with his brother and sister. They shared an unspoken but very real pact to try to forget the years that had damaged them. Perhaps the only way Winnie would ever come to trust him was if he told her the truth.

                He just wasn’t sure he was ready or able to go there. “I was thinking about what a beautiful night it is.”

                His blatantly false statement was met with silence. It was a beautiful night. But Winnie already knew him well enough to sense his disquiet. Cursing softly beneath his breath, he stopped and faced her. “Perhaps we should both keep our secrets. I’ve already told you I don’t do permanent relationships. And if you and I are ships that pass in the night, maybe we should enjoy each other without all our baggage.”

                She looked up at him, but he couldn’t make out her expression in the shadows. “That sounds very clinical and cold.”

                “Trust me, Winnie. I’m not cold,” he said. Though his brain shouted No!, he kissed her. Her response was immediate, passionate. In his arms, she was perfection—sensual, sexy—as appealing and irresistible as a gulp of water to a thirsty man. The fire they generated continued to disconcert him, but he was prepared to ignore the little warning bells that clanged inside his skull. Because holding Winnie was rapidly becoming an addiction.

                Even as her soft lips clung to his, he knew his timing was off. He couldn’t take her on the cold, hard ground. Breathing jerkily, he held her at arm’s length. Breaking the connection was an actual physical pain. He had to keep his hands to himself if he was going to respect her wishes and not push her into something she didn’t really want. “C’mon. I have something to show you.”

                * * *

                Winnie stumbled in his wake, her heart pounding and her legs weak. Already she craved his touch. When Larkin kissed her, she felt alive. As if the world was filled with delicious possibility. It was novel and delightful and scary as heck. What Larkin was offering was a purely physical, short-term interlude. And now he was willing to keep even that on a superficial level. Carnal pleasure…no emotional closeness. Her heart grieved even as her aching body told her that the outcome was inevitable. She wanted him to fall in love with her, to tell her he couldn’t live without her. There was no one in her life she could call her own. No one to cling to in the difficult times. But Larkin was not going to be that man. So why was she even considering becoming his lover, when what she really needed was a man for the long haul?