Buchanan's Pride by Pamela Toth Page B

perhaps it’s just what you want to think.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
    â€œSo you won’t have to deal with the idea of anyone worrying about you while you refuse to even try to find out who you are.”
    Frustrated, John let go of her arm. “Why do you care?”
    Leah’s cheeks went pink. “Why don’t you?” she countered, stepping away from him. “It’s unnatural not to want to have an identity. What are you scared of, anyway?”
    Scared? He wasn’t afraid of anything and he almost told her so. And then that sense of nagging dread returned. And the pleading voice. Promise me . But what had he promised? And why did he not want to remember?
    Leah was still waiting for a reply.
    Determined to prove his point, John captured her hand in his. When she didn’t protest, he tugged lightly until she was standing very close. Her eyes widened with surprise and her lips parted.
    â€œI know the kind of man I am,” he growled. “If I was married to someone else, I wouldn’t be doing this.” Then he gave in to the temptation that had been eating at him since she’d first sashayed into the barn. Dipping his head, he covered her mouth with his.
    He’d meant to take out his frustration in a punishing kiss, but as soon as his lips touched hers and he felt the slow heat rising between them, his brain shut down and pure sensation took over. For a timeless moment, she responded, kissing him back, her hands clutching his shoulders. Then, just as desire threatened to completely overrun his self-control, she broke away and pressed her hand to her mouth.
    â€œDon’t do that again!” she exclaimed, eyes blazing. “Married men kiss other women all the time. That doesn’t prove anything. Until you’re willing to find out who you are, you have no right to touch me.”
    â€œMaybe other men act badly, but I’m not one of them,” he argued. “I may not know much about myself, but I do know that.”
    Clearly unconvinced, Leah whirled around and stalked back to the barn. Her back was rigid with disapproval, her hands curled into fists at her sides. The cat ran after her, meowing hopefully.
    She was one stubborn woman. She exasperated him. For some reason John didn’t want to look at too closely, Leah’s opinion mattered a great deal. He hated for her to think of him as a cheat or a coward, but he didn’t know what to say that would satisfy her. There were still way too many things he didn’t understand himself.
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    â€œThanks for letting me know about this,” Leah told the sheriff in an undertone. “Keep me posted, okay?” Looking over her shoulder to see where the librarian was lurking, Leah said goodbye and set the receiver back down. Despite Miss MacPherson’s disapproval of personal phone calls, Leah had wanted to ask Sheriff Brody if there was anything he could do to find out John’s identity without his consent. To her surprise, the sheriff admitted that he’d already sent in the prints he’d lifted from John’s coffee mug. Now all they had to do was wait for the results.
    â€œHave you boxed up the discards for the book sale yet?” Miss MacPherson asked from behind her as she stood nibbling on her lip. “The volunteers want to start setting up the table sometime tomorrow.”
    Wondering how much, if any, of her conversation with the sheriff Miss MacPherson had overheard, Leah took a deep breath and swung around. To her relief, the older woman’s face revealed nothing but vague annoyance, her habitual expression.
    â€œI’ll get right to it,” Leah promised. Every so often, the collection had to be culled, the outdated books discarded to make room for new ones. Going through the shelves with a list of titles to be pulled was dusty, boring work, but today Leah welcomed it. She needed to keep her mind off the