began to pull his expressive brows together. “Dammit, don’t fiddle-faddle around with words. You want me outta here, I’m going.”
Dinah stared at him for several seconds, her lips parted, her mind churning. Then she stood and walked quickly to a pair of windows that looked out on the back porch and the woods beyond it. She sat her brandy on the white bookshelf beside the windows and leaned one hand on the sleek wood, then she gazed blankly into the darkness outside. You can’t let him go, a wise inner voice told her. It’s foolish to keep him here, she countered.
Her body stiffened as Rucker stopped behind her. He clasped her shoulders firmly, his fingers communicating the dangerous sensuality that had simmered between them since the night they met. Dinah shiveredand shut her eyes, feeling the size and heat of his body as if he were pressing against her back.
“Say it,” he urged hoarsely. “Just say, ‘You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with me, Rucker,’ and I’ll leave.”
Dinah took a deep breath and held tightly to the bookcase. “You don’t have …” She stopped, her heart racing so fast that she felt dizzy. “You don’t …” she tried again. She felt his hands trembling on her arms and realized with a bittersweet thrill that she had the power to make him happy or miserable. He held the same power over her. It’s no good to be practical or logical about this man, she admitted suddenly. I’m crazy about him. Dinah twisted around, her eyes tormented. “Stay,” she whispered raggedly.
“Oh, Dee.”
The air was heavy with intoxicating promise. His eyes glowing with pleasure, he raised his battered hands and cupped her face. His fingertips roamed over the flushed skin, rubbing away the tear streaks, soothing the silky, swollen areas under her eyes. Dinah heard herself murmur incoherently. Then she slipped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers deep into his thick hair.
“Stay,” she repeated in anguish. “But don’t scare me with any more Rambo heroics. How do your hands feel?”
“What hands?” he teased. They roamed down to her arms, then dropped lower and clasped her waist, squeezing gently, pulling her forward. “Oh. These hands. They feel fine, darlin’, just fine. I don’t think they’ve ever had a better time.”
Dinah closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his cheek. She felt his fingers slide down her lower back to her hips and, without the slightest inhibition, spread across her rump. There’s nothing timid about this man, Dinah acknowledged with shocked pleasure. He caressed her with a lusty appreciation that was both good-hearted and blatantly seductive. Even through the thick corduroy of her slacks his technique worked its desired goal on her defenses. She groaned a little and curled against his body.
“There’s a pure wildcat under your pretty pink skin, Madam Mayor,” he taunted in a wicked, throaty voice.
“Temporary insanity. I’ve never—”
“Acted so … so un-mayorly before,” he finished drolly. “I know.” Rucker’s voice dropped, becoming a thick murmur against her ear. “But, oh, little lady, you’re gonna surprise yourself a whole lot more than this, before I’m through.”
He curved his hands under her rump and abruptly picked her up. Dinah gripped his shoulders as he pressed her to the wall by the bookshelves. Suddenly his body was wedged between her legs, snug against her, and her thighs clung to his hips. Even though he was lean, he was a big man, and she cried out with the sensation of being overwhelmed. Quickly he adjusted his hold on her hips, making her more comfortable, cradling her gently.
“All right?” he asked in a worried, low voice. “Too rough?”
“No.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and her voice was muffled against his warm skin. “I’m just feeling particularly female at this moment.” She didn’t tell him that this particularly dignified and pristine
Dinah stared at him for several seconds, her lips parted, her mind churning. Then she stood and walked quickly to a pair of windows that looked out on the back porch and the woods beyond it. She sat her brandy on the white bookshelf beside the windows and leaned one hand on the sleek wood, then she gazed blankly into the darkness outside. You can’t let him go, a wise inner voice told her. It’s foolish to keep him here, she countered.
Her body stiffened as Rucker stopped behind her. He clasped her shoulders firmly, his fingers communicating the dangerous sensuality that had simmered between them since the night they met. Dinah shiveredand shut her eyes, feeling the size and heat of his body as if he were pressing against her back.
“Say it,” he urged hoarsely. “Just say, ‘You don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell with me, Rucker,’ and I’ll leave.”
Dinah took a deep breath and held tightly to the bookcase. “You don’t have …” She stopped, her heart racing so fast that she felt dizzy. “You don’t …” she tried again. She felt his hands trembling on her arms and realized with a bittersweet thrill that she had the power to make him happy or miserable. He held the same power over her. It’s no good to be practical or logical about this man, she admitted suddenly. I’m crazy about him. Dinah twisted around, her eyes tormented. “Stay,” she whispered raggedly.
“Oh, Dee.”
The air was heavy with intoxicating promise. His eyes glowing with pleasure, he raised his battered hands and cupped her face. His fingertips roamed over the flushed skin, rubbing away the tear streaks, soothing the silky, swollen areas under her eyes. Dinah heard herself murmur incoherently. Then she slipped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers deep into his thick hair.
“Stay,” she repeated in anguish. “But don’t scare me with any more Rambo heroics. How do your hands feel?”
“What hands?” he teased. They roamed down to her arms, then dropped lower and clasped her waist, squeezing gently, pulling her forward. “Oh. These hands. They feel fine, darlin’, just fine. I don’t think they’ve ever had a better time.”
Dinah closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his cheek. She felt his fingers slide down her lower back to her hips and, without the slightest inhibition, spread across her rump. There’s nothing timid about this man, Dinah acknowledged with shocked pleasure. He caressed her with a lusty appreciation that was both good-hearted and blatantly seductive. Even through the thick corduroy of her slacks his technique worked its desired goal on her defenses. She groaned a little and curled against his body.
“There’s a pure wildcat under your pretty pink skin, Madam Mayor,” he taunted in a wicked, throaty voice.
“Temporary insanity. I’ve never—”
“Acted so … so un-mayorly before,” he finished drolly. “I know.” Rucker’s voice dropped, becoming a thick murmur against her ear. “But, oh, little lady, you’re gonna surprise yourself a whole lot more than this, before I’m through.”
He curved his hands under her rump and abruptly picked her up. Dinah gripped his shoulders as he pressed her to the wall by the bookshelves. Suddenly his body was wedged between her legs, snug against her, and her thighs clung to his hips. Even though he was lean, he was a big man, and she cried out with the sensation of being overwhelmed. Quickly he adjusted his hold on her hips, making her more comfortable, cradling her gently.
“All right?” he asked in a worried, low voice. “Too rough?”
“No.” She rested her head in the crook of his neck, and her voice was muffled against his warm skin. “I’m just feeling particularly female at this moment.” She didn’t tell him that this particularly dignified and pristine
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