by test
“I know. I’m surprised,” Laurie admitted then lowered her voice. “She trusts you, Damien.”
She watched him through the lingering silence. He looked pole axed, dazed. She let out a weary breath and closed her eyes, wishing with all her heart she had Stacy safely back home.
* * * *
The full implication of her statement hit Damien like a sucker punch to the gut. She didn’t say she trusted him, too, but it was there in the way she spoke and in her eyes. Normally he did not care what he did to accomplish a mission. He did whatever necessary, used any means ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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handy, to get the job done. But this time, staring at Laurie across the table in his mountain retreat, the deception stuck in his throat.
Will the end justify the means, he wondered bitterly? Is catching Crawford worth the hate and betrayal in her eyes when it’s all over? He scowled. Self-doubt was something Damien did not experience, not when it came to his job. He hated it now.
“What’s wrong?” Laurie’s tentative question broke into his thoughts.
He pushed his plate and his doubts aside and stood up. “I’m going outside—alone.” He snatched his jacket off the hook by the door and left the cabin.
Laurie watched him go and wondered what she had said wrong. She stared at the door for several long seconds after he had closed it loudly behind him. Confused, apprehensive, she cleaned the kitchen automatically. Her gaze strayed frequently to the windows, seeking a glimpse of him. The cabin stayed quiet, peaceful. She flipped off the kitchen light and found the book she had started reading the previous night.
She read at the kitchen table, determined to stay awake until Damien returned. But she failed to concentrate on the story. Damien invaded her thoughts. The crackling fire in the woodstove kept the cold night at bay, making the cabin cozy, even romantic, in the expectant silence. As she read, her overactive imagination turned herself and Damien into the book’s lead characters.
Lulled by the story and the atmosphere, she got sidetracked from the written words. Her own erotic fantasies, spurred by the memories of his kisses, spun through her mind. After reading the same page three times, she closed the book. Conceding defeat, she propped her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, and let her thoughts wander.
Her mind stayed relentlessly on Damien. She sighed dreamily. He was gorgeous, with those dark good looks that made any woman look twice. Those dark brown eyes smoldered with barely leashed passion or glinted hard as steel. Tall, strong, muscular—another dreamy sigh escaped her. He intrigued her with a streak of controlled violence that was erotically appealing.
He could also be gentle, patient, and compassionate.
He could be harsh and uncompromising. He was danger personified tempered by a tender side she suspected he rarely displayed.
His touch shot sparks of desire through her. His kisses overloaded her senses and short-circuited her brain. Her lips tingled with the memory of his mouth on hers. Her breasts yearned for his hands, his possession. Her body ached for him, for the ecstasy she knew instinctively he would bring her. He drew her in a way no other man, even Stacy’s biological father, ever had.
She sighed yet again, aching need mingling with denial as she pondered the facts. An intense life-threatening situation, a dangerous man, and a fierce undeniable passion—those were the ingredients of a romance novel plot. Laurie frowned in consternation. A romance novel plot was not a good start for a lasting, loving relationship. Once the danger and the intensity were gone, there was nothing left. She had been dropped into the middle of one of her own stories.
She blinked and her sense of humor kicked in so she laughed aloud just as Damien strode back into the cabin. As he closed the door, she glanced up at him but laughter spilled out of her until tears filled her eyes. He arched an eyebrow and stared at her. His eyes went darker as he approached her.
Seeing alarm and concern on his face, Laurie struggled to contain her laughter. Her breath hitched and she clamped her teeth on her lower lip. Wiping her eyes, she finally subsided into an amused grin. He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat down. His steady gaze never wavered from her.
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“Are you okay?” he demanded curtly.
“I’m fine,” she replied, a hint of mirth bubbling in her tone, “Now that I have seen the utter absurdity of all of this.”
A puzzled frown marred his features. “Huh?”
“Never mind. It’s a writer’s joke.” She grinned at his skeptical expression.
“Let me in on it,” he insisted.
“Okay. You’ve probably never read a romance in your life.” She paused, nodded toward the bookcase. “I can’t believe those are yours.”
Her questioning tone invited clarification. Other than a slight narrowing of his eyes, there was no response. Laurie frowned. Children implied a woman in the picture. She could not imagine Damien reading romances for entertainment. He wore no wedding ring but that was not a surprise in his line of work. Nor was it a guarantee that he was single. Men took off rings more easily than they put them on.
“Laurie.” Damien interrupted her thoughts, his voice low but intent.
“Oh.” She roused herself. “Anyway, this situation is straight out of a romance novel. A woman in distress, a dangerous situation, and a handsome equally dangerous man. Think about it. It’s absurd. I’ve been dropped into the middle of a typical love story, complete with mutual desire.”
Abruptly realizing what she just blurted out, Laurie clamped her mouth shut. Her face burned with the scorch of embarrassment. She had admitted too much and saw no way to take it back. It was one thing to react to him but quite another to express her feelings aloud. She dropped her gaze to the table but squirmed under his suddenly intense regard.
“So.” His husky drawl sent shivers up her spine and clear down to her toes. He covered her hand with his on the table. His thumb stroked erotic circles over her skin. Heat suffused her.
Her skin burned at his touch.
“What are we going to do about this?”
That deep baritone caressed her ears. Pleasure shimmered inside her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
Chair legs scraped the wooden floor. His finger under her chin turned her head so she faced him. Her gaze locked involuntarily with his. Desire blazed, fierce and compelling, deep in his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. Reality winked out as she drowned in pools of dark chocolate. For an eternity she stared, dazed and wanting, into his eyes.
“Why are you fighting it?” he demanded seductively, his lips so close to hers that his breath warmed her.
But the very question broke the spell. If he had said nothing, she would have surrendered without a thought. She blinked and yanked her hand from his. Standing, she dragged her gaze from his and moved away.
He caught her wrist, halted her beside his chair. She tugged free, inadvertently looking down at him.
“What’s
wrong?”
“I—I can’t.” Cursing the tremor in her voice, she crossed the room to the stairs, ready to bolt.
She sensed rather than heard him follow and turned around warily. Her knees went weak.
All he had to do was touch her and she would submit. In his eyes, she read knowledge and sheer male satisfaction. He knew what he did to her, what she wanted but denied herself. She lifted a hand, palm out, to ward him off.
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“Don’t, Damien. Please,” she pleaded for understanding. “I can’t do this. It would never work.”
He frowned. Speculation mingled with curiosity in his eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing,” she lied, trembling with the effort not to jump into his arms. “I don’t want to repeat a mistake. I can’t do it again.”
“Do what again?” He snagged her hand, tugged her toward the sofa.
His touch, his
intent, made her stomach lurch. Desire, carefully banked, gleamed in his eyes as he focused his complete attention on her. It was difficult but she resisted and snatched her hand from his.
“Where do you think Stacy came from?” she demanded, covering fear and confusion with tart challenge. “Did you see any sign of a man in my house—any sign there had ever been one?”
“Tell me about it.”
His quiet voice pulled at her, urged her to confide in him. She shook her head, denying her need for a friend, for comfort and compassion.
“It was a mistake,” she insisted with a calm she did not feel. “One I don’t intend to repeat with you.” Teetering on the fine edge between panic and surrender, she turned and ran up the stairs.
A few minutes later, she lay in the dark silence of the cabin loft. Even the flickering fire in the woodstove was not visible from her angle. She yearned for Damien. Her heart craved love, as it never had in all her life. But she refused to give in to mere physical desire intensified by isolation, close quarters, and imminent danger. When it was over, she and Damien would go their separate ways. She did not want more memories than she needed. She certainly did not want the kind of memories that kept her awake at night wanting something she would never have.
A frustrated groan escaped her and she rolled over, punching the pillow. Sleep eluded her. She wanted him, craved him, with a fierce need that worsened every day. Any relationship with him was temporary, a fiery but brief affair. Another groan sounded in her ears and she sat up. Still tasting his lips on hers, she gave up on slumber and tiptoed downstairs.
Moonlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a soft glow that complimented the brief flickers of firelight. Against her will, her gaze was drawn to Damien tangled in the blankets on the sofa bed. Apparently he also tossed and turned, though he remained still now.
She let out a ragged breath but could not take her eyes off him. Moonlight bathed him.
The blanket, wrapped around his waist, left his broad chest bare and Laurie breathless. His chest rose and fell slowly. Tangled between his legs, the covers exposed a muscled thigh and calf. She bit back a groan of desire and forced herself to turn away from him. How long could she resist?
Her resolve weakened every day, and every minute, they were forced together.
She stumbled back to the stairs, the glorious sight of him burned into her mind.
Squeezing her eyes shut did not banish the image.
“Where are you going?” His quiet voice sent tremors through her.
Reluctant but somehow compelled, she turned to look at him. He sat up. Her fingers itched to touch, to roam over him. Her mouth went dry as she stared at the broad, gleaming expanse of his bare chest. Her gaze met his and her heart lurched. His eyes glittered with dangerous excitement.
“What are you doing down here?”
She swiped her tongue over her dry lips. “I couldn’t sleep. Sorry I woke you.”
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“You didn’t. I haven’t slept either.” He left the bed and came to her. “I think we both know why.”
She could not move if her life depended on it. Nor did she have the ability to keep her eyes on his. White briefs molded to his body like a second skin. His very evident arousal brought a warm flush to her skin. He stood so close his heat enveloped her. The very air shimmered with a sensuality that suspended time.
“Laurie.” Her name was a seductive whisper that snapped her eyes back to his.
Her lips parted on a silent inhale. He lifted a hand, cupped her cheek, and stroked his thumb over her lower lip. He lowered his head until his warm breath washed over her face.
She floundered in his dark gaze for an eternal second then jerked back and fled. Her heart pounded in her ears as she ran up to the loft. In bed once again, she yanked the covers to her chin and curled into a ball, congratulating herself for not losing control. But it was a hollow, miserable victory.
* * * *
The next day Laurie tried to stay as far as possible from the temptation Damien presented. That proved extremely difficult in the small cabin. Damien drilled her in the use of firearms in the morning and taught unarmed combat skills in the afternoon. That, of course, required physical contact which severely tested her self-control. It also involved physical exertion well beyond her ordinary daily activity. At the end of the day, stiff and sore, she limped back into the cabin. She didn’t bother to move Damien’s supportive hand from the small of her back, either.
“I hurt in places I didn’t know existed,” she complained as she slid carefully into a chair at the table.
Stacy ran to her, anxiety in her eyes. “Are you okay, Mommy?”
“I’ll be fine, honey,” Laurie assured her despite the aches and pains gnawing at her.
Stacy skipped off, eagerly watching Damien cook canned spaghetti and make salad.
Laurie refused to move. She leaned on her elbows on the table and tried to catalogue all the aches. She gave up. It was easier and quicker to say what didn’t hurt. Feeling like an overused punching bag, she ate slowly and in silence.
By the time she finished her meal the pain had eased some. But that was only the eye of the storm. Agony exploded across her shoulders as she pushed her chair back to take her plate to the sink. A groan escaped her and she went still.
“I’ll get it, Mommy!” Stacy raced around the table and snatched up the plate. A second later the piece of plastic clattered in the bottom of the sink. Stacy cleared the rest of the table then dashed up to the loft.
“Are you all right?” Damien demanded from across the table.
She lifted her head and met his concerned gaze. She stifled another moan. “I feel like the football after the Superbowl is over.”
He studied her for a moment then smiled. Approval lit his eyes. “You learn quickly.”
Shooting him a fierce glare, she rubbed her aching back. “Then why am I the one who was always on the ground?”
He chuckled. “You should have seen me when I first started martial arts training. It takes a while to get used to such intense exercise.”
“Count me out tomorrow.” She grimaced. “I’ll be too stiff to move.”
Stacy bounded downstairs with a drawing pad, pencils, and crayons. She spread everything over the table and turned wide green eyes on Damien.
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“Want me to draw you a picture?” she demanded with childish confidence.
“Sure. Draw your mom.”
Startled, Laurie stared at him. His brown eyes twinkled as Stacy pushed a few pages across the corner of the table.
“You draw one, too,” she insisted, excitement lighting up her face.
“Yes, ma’am,” he conceded with mock formality.
He took the pages and picked up a pencil. With a good-natured grin, he sketched steadily for the next several minutes. Stacy concentrated fiercely, her small pink tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth. Laurie watched them and her heart melted even as her gaze lingered on the man at the end of the table.
He surprised her so often. Who was he? All day long he barked orders, portraying a harsh taskmaster. Now, he sketched alongside Stacy with the air of an indulgent father. Looking at them both, her heart melted again. She wished she had the notebook she had left upstairs. This was a family scene that demanded description. Her vision blurred at the edges, softening and framing the scene. The pain had faded slightly so she stayed in her chair. That scene would stay in her mind, in her heart, forever.
“I’m done!” Stacy announced, jolting Laurie out of her reverie.
Stacy ran around the table and thrust the drawing at Damien.
“Keep it,” she ordered cheerfully.
“I will.” He took the page and pretended to examine it critically. His eyes gleamed with teasing mischief as Stacy stared expectantly at him. “Let me see now.” He paused and let the silence linger. “Yes, I think so
. It’s very good. Where shall I put it?”
“In your wallet,” Stacy replied with a child’s knowing air. “You always put people’s pictures in your wallet.”
“I believe you’re right.” Damien grinned and his eyebrows rose over the amused gleam in his eyes. He folded the paper and put it in his wallet. Laurie knew he would remove it at the first opportunity. He simply indulged Stacy for the moment.
Laurie interrupted their by-play. “It’s time for bed, young lady.”
“Okay.” Stacy submitted without whining to stay up longer. “Can Damien tuck me in?”
He stiffened and shot a startled glance at Laurie. As surprised by the request as Damien, Laurie only stared at her daughter then glanced at him.
“Please?” Stacy pleaded, peering at him through anxious eyes.
Not eager to move her aching body, Laurie shrugged and left the decision to him. Damien nodded hesitantly and grinned at Stacy.