The Wolf And The Dove. Linda Turner
Читать онлайн книгу.
seemed to reach right inside him and pull him out of the fantasy that had come out of nowhere to swamp him in heat. Jerking his eyes up to hers, he found her watching him with an amused, puzzled frown. Swallowing a curse, he stiffened. “Yeah?”
“You’re looking at my hand like you’ve never seen one before. Is everything okay?”
Hell, no, it wasn’t okay, he almost snapped. How could it be when she was hurt and bleeding and all he could think of was how good she smelled? What the devil had she done to him? “Everything’s fine,” he growled. “Just peachy. Give me a second to clean this up, and you can get out of here.” And out of his life, he silently promised himself. Because just as soon as he had the lady patched up, he swore he wasn’t going anywhere near her again. Not if just touching her did this to him.
His face carved in harsh lines, he went to work and had the wound cleaned and stitched in no time. Her gaze carefully directed away from his handiwork, she stared at the far wall and chatted about the progress she was making at the hangar, the mechanic she had hired, who would start tomorrow, the coming of Christmas and the shopping she still had to do. He put seven stitches at the base of her thumb, bandaged the cut and gave her a tetanus shot after she rolled up her sleeve, and she didn’t so much as whimper.
What did you expect? a voice drawled in his head. She’s Fortune-tough, just like her grandmother.
Then she turned toward him, and he felt as if someone had punched him hard in the gut when he saw for the first time the tears welling in her eyes. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, a crooked smile pushing up one corner of her mouth as she hastily swiped at her still-pale cheeks. “Don’t pay any attention to me,” she said thickly, laughing shakily. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Then why are you crying? Did I hurt you?”
“No! Oh, no,” she quickly assured him. “I’m just a lousy patient. I didn’t feel anything once you deadened it, but I could just imagine this needle going in and out—”
Turning slightly green, she swallowed and quickly abandoned that line of thought. Straightening her shoulders with a visible effort, she warned teasingly, “You realize, of course, that if you tell anybody I was bawling like a baby over a few stitches, I’ll be forced to deny it.”
Fighting a smile, he nodded, his expression deliberately solemn. “My lips are sealed.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Her gaze immediately flew to his mouth, and suddenly the air between them was sparking with the kind of hushed expectancy that invariably proceeded an approaching storm. Giving in to impulse, to insanity, he reached for her and captured that beautiful face of hers in his hands, bringing her mouth to his.
The instant his lips settled over hers, he knew it had been too long since he’d kissed a woman, too long since he’d allowed himself to even think about needing one. He was in no shape to handle one like Rocky Fortune. Surprise held her motionless under his hands, but then her mouth softened under his and she was like heat lightning in a bottle…wild, hot, unpredictable. Too late, he realized that she had what it took to make a man sweat in the darkest, coldest part of the night.
The thought lodged in the back of his brain, throbbing like a railroad warning light, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the taste of her, the feel of her, the heat of her. God, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt any kind of female warmth. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her and not think about anything except how good it felt. With a groan that came from the depths of his soul, he slanted his mouth across hers and took the kiss deeper.
Dazed, boneless, clinging to him, Rocky tried to remember Greg and how he had hurt her, but the only image that came to mind was Lucas with his dark, wary eyes and rugged face. He kissed her with a desperation that stole her breath and set her pulse thrumming with a blind, lonely need that was as plaintive and heart-tugging as the call of a wolf on a cold winter night. Her head spinning, she frantically ordered herself to stop this madness right now, but in the dark, wet, hidden recesses of her mouth, his tongue wooed and cajoled and sweetly seduced. Shuddering, her hands climbing up his arms, she moaned and crowded closer, lost to everything but the pleasure drizzling through her like warm honey.
The second her injured hand molded itself to his shoulder, however, pain flared in her palm like a struck match, so hot she could practically smell the sulfur. Her cry muffled against his mouth, she jerked back, breathing hard, and stared at him in dismay. Dear God, what was she doing? This was Lucas Greywolf, her landlord, for heaven’s sake, the man who thought she was spoiled and pampered and walked around with her nose in the air and hundred-dollar bills hanging out of her pockets. He was arrogant and condescending and judgmental, and she’d kissed him! She had to be losing her mind.
Heat stealing into her cheeks, determined not to let him see how he had shaken her, she let out her breath in a huff and forced a cheeky grin. “Well. If that was an attempt to kiss it and make it better, you were more than a little off the mark, Doc.”
He was not amused. His jaw was as rigid as granite. “What it was was inexcusable. I wouldn’t blame you if you slapped my face.”
“C’mon, Doc, it was just a kiss.” She laughed with pretended nonchalance. “Don’t sweat it. And thanks for the stitch job. Don’t forget to send me a bill.” Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door, trying not to run.
Ten seconds later, the front door slammed, leaving behind a silence that was as cold and deep as the snow piling up outside. Standing flat-footed in the examining room where she’d left him, feeling as if he’d been run over by a truck, Lucas stared after her and started to swear.
Bustling into Lucas’s private office three days later, Mary caught him scowling out the window at the hangar in the distance and hurriedly bit back a smile. Lucas wasn’t normally a brooder, but he’d spent most of the day staring out the window—at the hangar—whenever there was a lull in patients. And she had a feeling his interest in the old place had nothing to do with planes.
Her eyes starting to dance with expectation, she laid the day’s mail on his desk, then said casually, “I’ve been going over the invitation list for the Christmas party, and it seems to be missing a few names.”
He turned, his scowl still in place. “Oh, yeah? Who?”
“Judge Ryan,” she replied promptly. “Since he bought the old Carson place, he’s practically a neighbor.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I should have thought of him myself. Go ahead and put him on the list.”
“What about Rocky Fortune?”
The look he shot her would have done one of his fierce Shoshone ancestors proud. Mary didn’t even blink. “What about her?”
“What about her?” Mary echoed, amused by his deliberate obtuseness. “Lucas, you’re leasing the hangar to her! Don’t you think it would be rude not to invite her to the only party you give all year?”
“Not at all,” he said curtly, his gut clenching just at the thought of seeing her again. He’d spent most of the night fighting off the memory of a kiss that never should have happened, and his obsession with her hadn’t improved with the light of day. Damn the woman, he could still taste her, still feel her against him—
Swearing under his breath, he picked up the mail Mary had brought in and blindly flipped through it. “It’s not like she’s a friend or anything. We have a business arrangement, nothing more.”
“But—”
“And she probably wouldn’t come, anyway. We don’t exactly run in the same circles, you know.”
“Then it won’t hurt to send her an invitation,” Mary said promptly, grinning. “Just as a courtesy.”
Tossing down the mail, he growled, “Don’t waste a stamp.”
Mary shrugged, as if to say that was fine with her, but there was a glint of mischief in her eye that Lucas would have