Heartstrings by Rebecca Paisley

was what Theodosia was too. Just some daft woman he’d happened to meet and would now leave.
    There was no way in hell he’d play the fool again. He threw back his shoulders. “I’ll be going now, Miss Worth. Watch out for crocodiles in Brazil.” He spun toward the door.
    “Would you wait with me, Mr. Montana?” Her own question startled her, as did the odd emptiness she felt inside. Had it really been only three days ago that she’d looked forward to parting company from this stubborn and arrogant man? “Dr. Wallaby isn’t here, and I—”
    “He’s probably out looking for bugs. The man spends so much time with the damned things that he’ll probably turn into one before long. And we arrived way ahead of schedule. He wasn’t expecting us until tonight.”
    “Still, I would appreciate it if you would wait with me. We could talk for a while. You pushed the horses so hard today that we had little opportunity to converse.”
    “I thought you were in a hurry to get here.”
    “I was, but I—”
    “Well, here you are, and just as soon as the King of Beetle Spit gets back, the two of you can get to work on all the things you’ve been planning to do. While you’re waiting, why don’t you memorize your sex-treat book? One of you should be a master at the art of lovemaking, and I can promise you now that it won’t be your human fossil of a lover.” He started for the door again, but stopped once more when she called to him.
    “Good-bye then, Mr. Montana. And thank you ever so much for all you have done for me.” She smiled.
    Her gracious smile looked like honey to Roman, glistening, slow-spreading, and every bit as sweet. It drew him toward her.
    Dr. Wallaby would be the first man to make love to her.
    But years from now, when she remembered her first real kiss, he vowed she would think of Roman Montana.
    The profoundly arousing fragrance of wild flowers, warmth, and woman bathed his senses when he reached for her. His right hand caught her chin, and leisurely, savoring every second, he slid his left hand up her back and to the nape of her neck. Thus, he kept her captive for his kiss.
    A barely there smile touched his lips as he brushed his mouth over hers, in a kiss as gentle as the play of light in her eyes. Her sigh drifted over his tongue as he coerced her to part her lips.
    He lowered his left hand to the small of her back. She was soft to the touch, and he realized she wore no corset. Her tiny waistline was her own, a fact that aroused Roman further.
    He urged her closer. To him. To his heat.
    To the desire that the scent, taste, and feel of her had brought to life.
    She tried to pull away but was stilled instantly when he growled with displeasure and slanted his mouth over hers, the motions of his tongue hard, demanding, and possessive. With increasing pressure of his hand, he kept her hips cradled within his. She fitted his body perfectly, as if a master sculptor had designed her especially for him.
    He moved against her, into her, wanting to brand her with the hot, hard feel of himself. He would never see her again after this day, that he knew.
    But when she arched sweetly into him, mindlessly surrendering to him, he knew she would not forget him.
    He ended the sensual encounter as he had begun it: gently, gradually, until his lips no longer caressed hers and their bodies touched no more.
    Flashing her a lopsided grin, he fingered the soft golden curl that tumbled over her breast, turned, and walked out the door.
    Theodosia knew his kiss had been his farewell.
    And she realized also that she was going to miss him.
     
    T heodosia sat at the other side of the table, watching Dr. Wallaby read the last page of the thesis she’d prepared as part of the examination. Lamplight and moonbeams washed over their supper plates, her parrot’s cage, a jar of fresh bluebonnets, and Dr. Wallaby’s thin, angular face.
    It was true, she thought, studying the scientist. He and Upton looked like brothers. The only