Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta) by Peggy Webb

days.”
    “Why are you here, Jim?”
    “Don’t you know?”
    She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, Jim felt as if he were gazing into the sun. “Yes, I know.”
    “I’m here because I couldn’t stay away.”
    Hannah reached up and gently traced the scar on his forehead. “How shall we start this time, Jim?”
    Now that he was there, he’d be damned if he knew. He’d tracked her all the way to the Alaskan wilds with no other thought than to hold her in his arms one more time and purge her from his system. He wanted her. There was no doubt about that. He wanted her as he’d wanted no other woman. And that very obsession scared the hell out of him.
    “Why don’t we start with a kiss, Hannah, and then we’ll go on to the halibut?”
    Hannah laughed, and as she did, she felt the tension ease out of her. She’d survived one invasion by the West Coast Warrior. There was no reason she couldn’t survive two.
    “Are you asking this time, Jim?”
    “Yes. You once told me you like to be asked.”
    “Only if it’s the right man who’s doing the asking.”
    “Am I the right man?”
    Her lips told him what he wanted to know. They spoke the same wild and hungry language as his own.
    She tasted of the sea and of wildflowers. And as he kissed her, he knew he would never get enough. She was both satin and steel. Her slim, athletic body was softened by enticing curves and inviting hollows. In six weeks time he’d forgotten how a woman’s body could make him lose his mind. Hannah, his mind whispered, Only Hannah.
    She melted into him, pressed so close that she wasn’t sure whether the hammering against her chest was Jim’s heart or her own. And she didn’t care. She was in Jim’s arms and that’s all that mattered at the moment. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself.
    He lifted his mouth from hers, and she felt deprived. “It’s been so long, Hannah.”
    “Too long,” she said softly.
    His lips brushed across hers, then wandered down her throat until they were pressed in the hollow where her pulse beat like the wings of a frightened bird.
    “I’m so hungry.” His tongue did magic things to her throat. “So hungry,” he murmured as his mouth moved lower.
    “The halibut . . .”
    “Can wait.”

 
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
    Jim had his hands on the buttons of her shirt before he came to his senses. Taking Hannah now would not be release: It would be bondage. It would also be foolish. Nothing had changed between them. There in her sparsely furnished, primitive, functional cabin, he was more aware than ever that Dr. Hannah Donovan was a dedicated professional. He wanted more. He wanted a soft, yielding woman who would be completely his, one who would be content to remain at his side, always. He wanted a woman whose mind was on children not whales. He wanted a woman he could take care of in the manner in which Brick Roman should have cared for the woman he’d married.
    Pulling back, he crammed his hands into his pockets. “That was a nice appetizer. Now I’m ready for the main course.”
    “The main course?”
    He crooked one eyebrow upward. “Halibut—unless you have something else in mind.”
    She put her hands on her hips, her face alight with challenge. “What I have in mind is taking my gun to you, Jim Roman, and sending you back to San Francisco, where you belong.”
    Brava, Hannah , he thought. He loved her fiery spirit.
     “You’re right. I do belong there—just as you belong here.” He turned toward her cabinets and began to rummage. “Where do you keep the dishes? I’ll set the table.”
    “On your right, above the sink.” She opened the oven and took out the halibut. “Let’s get a few things straight: I won’t cook for you, I won’t pick up after you, I won’t change my schedule for you, and most of all, I won’t kiss you. I rise early and work late. If you want a story, you’ll have to keep pace with me.” She slammed the halibut on the table with the outraged vigor