A Perfect Hero by Samantha James Page B

help that she caught him staring at her more than once. Replacing the poker, he turned.
    He was staring once more.
    Julianna had had enough. “Why do you look at me like that?”
    Something flickered across his features. “I was thinking I’ve seen you before.”
    “I think not,” she said coolly.
    He raised a brow. “And what if I said I think you’re wrong?”
    She gave him a quelling look. “And where might that have been? I daresay we do not travel in the same circles. Or have you robbed me before?”
    His brow remained cocked high. “I’ve robbed you of nothing, kitten. Nothing but a kiss. And indeed, I think it was freely given.”
    So much for her earlier relief. Julianna did not appreciate the reminder. “Must you mock me?” she asked stiffly.
    The flash of humor disappeared. He was sud denly intent. “I do not mock you, Julianna.” He studied her, his head tilted to one side. “Tell me,” he said suddenly. “Are you angry that I kissed you?”
    All at once there was an unfamiliar dryness in her throat. A hot tide of color surged into her cheeks. She averted her eyes.
    “That’s none of your affair.” Drat! Her tone wasn’t at all steady.
    “Of course it’s my affair. If I am the perpetra tor, don’t I deserve to know?”
    Julianna had no wish to debate on either count.
    She tried to step by him. He stopped her, lean fingers winding around the fragile span of her wrist, a gentle entrapment.
    “Kitten? Won’t you tell me?”
    Julianna avoided his gaze. She looked at the opening of his shirt. No salvation there. She could look no higher.
    “Yes,” she said shakily. “I mean no.” She was floundering, and there was no help for it. “Oh, I don’t know what I mean!”
    “Well, that certainly clarifies the matter. Perhaps”—his eyes took on a gleam—“another kiss might help you decide.”
    Julianna’s heart was beating high in her throat. He was tugging her inexorably closer.
    “What the devil are you doing?” she heard her self ask.
    “It is but a kiss, kitten. Will you not grant a dy ing man his last wish?”
    Her eyes jerked up. “You are not dying!”
    “I could,” he stated brashly. “Infection might set in. It’s been known to happen.”
    Lord, he was right...But then she saw laugh ter surface in his eyes.
    She stiffened. “You are a womanizer, aren’t you?” she accused.
    “Not true.” He defended himself staunchly.
    “Isn’t it? There was a woman on the coach— her name was Mrs. Chadwick. She said that the Magpie ...that you...that you have a liking for the ladies.”
    “Only this particular lady,” he countered.
    Her heart lurched. His arm was curling around her waist now. Suddenly it was impossible to swallow, difficult even to breathe.
    She placed her fingertips on his chest, mindful of his wound. “Dane—”
    His gaze pinned hers. “Be still, kitten,” he whispered, “and let me kiss you.”
    Those words should have brought the scene to a sizzling halt ...her hand to his cheek—and hard! Whatever objection she might have made dried up in her breast. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she wanted to object. Everything inside her stood still as his mouth came down on hers. Locked fast against his chest, she let it happen...she wanted it to happen. And it was just like before, she decided fuzzily. No, it was better.
    Sensation surrounded her. She could feel his strength, his sheer length against hers, the heat emanating from his body. His mouth on hers was meltingly sweet, sliding to the corner of hers.
    “Open your mouth for me, kitten . . .” The plea was no less urgent for its softness. “Ah, God. Yes. Yes . Just like that.” He gave an odd lit tle laugh. “You’re very responsive, aren’t you, kitten?”
    Her lips parted. There was no thought of re fusal. Of denial. Not even when he tasted her. Tasted her with his tongue, sliding along hers with no hesitation, the texture of his pleasurably rough, a slow, almost leisurely journey that explored