Illegal Motion: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Donna Kauffman Page A

gravitated to something new and sparkling. That tantalizing peek of what lay in store between them tempted her to try anything, everything, she could think of to see it through to the end. But her history of hurt and betrayal, along with her present situation, ultimately governed her head, if not her heart.
    “Yes, I understand.” Stifling the small instinctive cry when she moved out of his arms, leaving his touch, she wandered toward the shaft of sunlight streaming through the double doors. “Would you like to see the rest of the place?”
    Nick stood there, feeling bereft and strangely halved, like holding her made him somehow complete. Kicking himself for stopping, he alsoknew he’d done the right thing. Until this whole mess was sorted out, he had to keep some sense of self—which meant not kissing, touching, or holding Willa. He watched her turn back to him, waiting for his answer, and he sent a silent warning to all five feet ten inches of wild red hair, full breasts, and legs that went on forever.
    Look out, Princess, because after we nail Miller and the not-so-good Dr. Abbott, I’m coming after you. And I intend to touch, kiss, and hold you as much as I want for the rest of our lives .
    The decision made, he found it easier to smile as he nodded and followed her out into the bright spring sunshine.
    Willa led them back to the house an hour later. Nick had insisted on tramping over the entire ten acres. Even with a cane, she marveled at his natural agility as he moved easily over the uneven ground. His energy seemed endless, but eventually it became impossible for him to hide the growing stiffness in his knee from her trained eye. Even then, only threats of a severely torturous rehab session, devised solely by her, got him to agree to go in.
    “Go on to the front room and prop up your knee. I’ll fix us some iced tea.”
    Nick nodded, not pausing as he hobbleddown the hallway, glad she would be kept busy in the kitchen for a few minutes while he checked to see if he’d been hallucinat— “Damn!” he swore as he reached the large picture window, barely catching a flash of black at the curve in the driveway through the cloud of slowly settling dust. Eric’s Porsche. He’d bet money on it. He cursed himself for staying out for so long because of the uncontrollable hormone surge he experienced whenever she so much as laughed. Because of his lack of control over himself, he’d just missed catching that filthy bastard Eric red-handed.
    He’d discussed with Sky the probable reasons Eric had for stashing the drugs in Willa’s office. They figured it was to ensure her compliance with whatever new scheme he’d dreamed up. They’d also agreed—actually Nick had convinced Sky—not to tell Willa about it. She was nervous enough, and knowing how desperate Miller had become might make her too nervous to convince him to talk. But Nick had misjudged Eric again. He never thought he’d go this far.
    His hatred of his former teammate increased to an almost blinding red haze. Nick played a rough sport and played to win, but he was not the kind of guy who solved things off the field by bashing heads. Right now, though, he wanted to bash more than Eric’s head . Because the bastardhad involved Willa, put her directly in danger, Nick wanted to twist Eric’s conniving little neck.
    Nick prowled the room, poking at possible hiding places and trying to burn off some steam. The urge to kill another person was startling to contend with. But the realization that he’d come to feel this strongly only after Willa had been threatened shook him to the core.
    He heard her footsteps and reluctantly moved to the old overstuffed sofa. He’d have to find a way to search her house more thoroughly, but as it was, he barely got his leg extended along the plump cushions before she entered the room carrying two tall glasses of iced tea.
    “So what did you think?”
    Momentarily nonplussed, he asked, “About what?”
    “The farm. The