Tempting Taine (29 page)

Yeah.
Big
and
dangerous.
She
threw
him
an
exasperated
look
and
escaped
to
the
kitchen
with
the
dirty
dishes.

Dixie
did
indeed
check
on
him
through
the
night.

That
was
her
second
mistake.

She
set
the
alarm
for
two
hours
and
when
it
woke
her
she
padded
down
the
hall
to
his
room.
He
was
dead
to
the
world
and
she
stood
for
a
moment
looking
at
his
body
sculptured
in
the
silvery
moonlight.
Her
eyes
rose
to
his
face
and
traced
his
rugged
features
from
his
deep-set
eyes
and
aquiline
nose,
slightly
asymmetrical
now
–
no
doubt
a
scar
of
an
interesting
life
–
down
to
his
sensuous,
teasing
mouth.
She
caught
her
breath,
seeing
something
deeper
in
his
face
than
good
looks
;
integrity
maybe.
He
was
an
impressive
person.

And
a
disturbing
one.
He
was
bare
to
his
lean
waist.
Dark
hair
on
his
chest
ran
down
into
a
valley
between
powerful,
smooth
pectorals
and
on
down
to
…
Dare
she
touch
him
to
wake
him?

Hesitatingly
she
put
a
hand
on
his
chest
and
felt
the
dizzying
promise.
Suddenly
he
lashed
out
and
slapped
her
hand
and
she
jumped
back
guiltily,
knocking
her
chair
over.

He
propped
himself
up
on
his
elbows
and
peered
at
her.

‘
Ah,
Dixie.
I
thought
you
were
a
mosquito.
Sorry
about
that.
’

‘
You're
alive
anyway.
I
was
just
checking.
No
need
to
get
violent.
’

The
next
time
she
went
in
he
was
tossing
and
tangled
in
the
sheets.
She
had
to
make
sure
his
thrashing
about
wasn't
caused
by
cerebral
irritation
but
she
was
loath
to
wake
him.
Touching
him
wasn't
good
for
her.
He
should
be
stamped
with
a
warning
from
the
Surgeon
General
-
Touching
this
man
may
endanger
your
health.

Gathering
her
courage
she
took
him
by
the
shoulders,
resisting
the
urge
to
dig
her
fingers
into
the
firm,
warm
flesh,
and
shook
him
gently.
He
put
one
hand
over
hers
and
muttered
something,
his
eyes
still
closed.
Then
his
other
hand
found
her
shoulder
and
pulled
her
down.
He
must
be
dreaming.

She
fell
on
top
of
him
and
her
senses
reeled
at
his
warmth
and
hard
strength
and
feral
smell.
She
had
to
get
the
hell
out
of
there
before
…

His
eyes
were
still
closed
but
he
was
smiling
faintly.
She
wriggled
free
and
struggled
to
her
feet,
catching
the
sheet.

Dear
God,
he
didn't
wear
pjs
and
that
dream
must
be
a
mighty
good
one.
Her
pulse
racing,
she
fled
back
to
her
room
and
turned
off
the
alarm.
She
couldn't
take
any
more.

Next
morning
Dixie
woke
early
feeling
jaded
after
a
disturbed
night.
Freud
would
have
had
a
field
day
with
her
dreams.
Now
her
muddled
thoughts
were
a
mixture
of
apprehension
at
facing
him
this
morning,
regret
that
she
’
d
asked
him
to
stay,
and
pleasurable
warmth
that
he
was
here.
She
rose
reluctantly
and
opened
the
casement
to
let
in
the
sun.
Annoying
restlessness
pervaded
her
and
she
looked
to
her
familiar
surroundings
for
solace.
Her
eyes
ranged
over
the
beloved
view
and
she
breathed
deeply
the
scents
of
home
-
her
home
now
her
granny
had
gone.
A
bumblebee
buzzed
crossly
in
the
orange
Virginia
creeper
at
the
edge
of
the
verandah,
the
dew
on
the
lawn
glistened
and
the
spire
of
the
old
church
in
the
township
a
mile
away
pierced
the
clear
blue
sky.

To
her
surprise
she
saw
she
wasn't
the
first
one
up.
Nate
appeared
from
behind
the
circular
rose
garden
beyond
the
gravel
entrance.
Tousled
hair,
pecs
stretching
his
black
tee
shirt,
hands
jammed
in
the
pockets
of
shorts
pulling
them
tight
across
narrow
hips,
bare
feet.

She
stepped
hurriedly
back
inside.
So
he
had
thought
of
her
as
a
sister!
She
experimented
with
the
idea
of
him
as
a
brother.
It
didn't
take.