Any Thursday (Donovans of the Delta)
ever seen.
    He cleared away the sudden frog in his throat. “Finished already? Judging from your bathing habits in Greenville, I expected you to be in there at least an hour.”
    “You can’t take a bubble bath in a shower.” She moved across the room with that grace that had captured his imagination—if not his heart—in Greenville. When she leaned over his shoulder, he caught a whiff of her. She smelled like flower-scented soap and herbal shampoo—a heady combination.
    “What are you working on?”
    “A little background for the story. Will the typing bother you?”
    “No. As a matter of fact, I find the sound soothing, like rain against the roof.”
    “Good. I’ll work awhile, then.”
    “Well . . . good night, Jim.”
    “Good night, Hannah.”
    Although he turned back to his typing, he was aware of every movement she made as she prepared for bed. When her robe hit the loft floor with a soft plunk, desire punched him in the gut. The squeaking of her bedsprings almost did him in. He nearly bolted from the cabin. Sleddog had told him there were bears in the woods, but at the moment he’d rather face a grizzly than face a night sleeping in the same room with Hannah Donovan.
    Jim gritted his teeth and kept on typing.
     o0o
    She’d lied, Hannah thought, as she lay wide-eyed in her bed, gazing through the skylight at the strange summer glow of night. Every tap of the typewriter keys reminded her that Jim Roman was in the room. He’d invaded her sanctuary, her haven, her workplace. What was worse, he’d invaded her heart. When he’d stalked her in the kitchen and taken her in his arms, she’d known she was fighting a losing battle. She’d no more remained untouched in Greenville than she could fly to the moon without a rocket. He’d touched her: He’d awakened her passion, stirred her imagination, and . . . yes, she had to admit the truth, he’d even touched her heart.
    She clenched her hands into fists and willed herself not to toss and turn. Why did he have to come back? Just when she was getting everything back under control, why did the West Coast Warrior have to invade her senses? She didn’t want to lose control.
    The truth bolted through her with a force that almost shot her out of the bed. That was it, she thought. All the while she’d been saying that her career was hard and demanding and left no room for a man, much less a family, all the while she’d been blaming her one ill-fated affair with Rai, she’d been hiding the truth, even from herself. She was afraid. She was scared to death to relinquish control of even one little part of her life to somebody else.
    Hannah loves to be in charge. Hannah loves to boss things . She almost could hear the loving voices of her family. What they didn’t know was that the woman who had faced down a rampaging bull moose and a giant grizzly was afraid of a little thing called love. Why? Her parents and her brothers had beautiful marriages. Why should love scare her?
    Staring up through the skylight, she had another revelation. Hallie . All their lives the twins had had similar experiences. They skinned their knees at the same time even though they were on different sides of town; they had appendectomies together; they both made the high school debating team; they both won scholarships to college. Hallie’s first experience at love and marriage had been a disaster. Although Hannah wasn’t superstitious, she felt almost a sense of destiny regarding the intertwining of her life with her twin’s. As long as she could remain in control, she would never go through the hell Hallie had.
    Hannah had to clench her teeth to keep from groaning. Her fear was cowardly and irrational and totally unscientific. But it was real.
    “I must be fatally flawed.”
    She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until she heard Jim’s voice. “Did you say something, Hannah?”
    “No. Go back to your typing.”
    She stared through the skylight, listening to the clatter of

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