RenegadeHeart by Madeline Baker Page B

grudgingly.
    “That’ll do. Think you could warm it up for me?”
    “I suppose so.” Her tone implied she was less than pleased
with the thought of his prolonged presence.
    “Thanks.”
    Tyree followed her into the kitchen, admiring her tiny waist
and the supple sway of her hips.
    “Would you care for something to eat?” Rachel asked, coolly
polite and impersonal.
    “Just coffee.”
    “Will you be staying with us much longer, Mr. Tyree?”
    He chuckled softly. “Just can’t wait to get rid of me, can
you?”
    “No,” Rachel answered bluntly. “My father may be charmed
with your presence here, but I am not. I’d like to know how much longer you
plan to stay with us.”
    “Until your old man tells me to leave,” Tyree snapped,
annoyed as always by her too-obvious disaffection. “That coffee ready?”
    “Yes.”
    Tyree took the cup Rachel offered him, swallowed the hot,
bitter brew. Too bad it wasn’t poison, he mused wryly. That would put a smile
on her face.
    “Got enough for another cup?” he asked, more to irritate her
than anything else.
    Rachel refilled Tyree’s cup without speaking, not liking the
way his eyes moved over her, or the way he had maneuvered her into a corner, so
that he stood between her and the door. He drained the cup, his eyes never
leaving her face. She wished suddenly that she was wearing more than just a
cotton nightgown and a flannel robe. Unconsciously, she drew the robe tighter
around her waist.
    Setting the empty cup on the table, Tyree reached out and
ran his hand through the heavy mass of Rachel’s hair. It was soft as cornsilk,
smooth as satin beneath his finger­tips. Stepping closer, he caught the faint
fragrance of lavender-scented soap, the aroma of fresh-baked bread. And over
all was Rachel’s own scent, warm and womanly.
    Muttering a soft oath, Tyree took Rachel in his arms and
kissed her, his mouth hard and demanding, his lean body pressed suggestively
against hers.
    For a moment, Rachel stood limp in his arms, her knees
suddenly weak, as if his kiss had drained all the strength from her limbs. A slow
fire started in the pit of her stomach and spread downward as his hands
caressed her back. She felt bereft when he took his lips from hers and she
swayed against him, her face upturned, her mouth strangely eager for his kiss.
    Tyree chuckled softly as he covered her mouth with his own.
“Sweet,” he murmured, nibbling her lower lip. “So sweet.”
    His breath tickled her ear as his mouth moved up her neck
and against her hair. Rachel sagged against him, shuddering with pleasure as
his hands kneaded her lower back and buttocks, grinding her hips against his
groin, leaving her breathless and yearning for more. Her arms went around his
waist, her hands roaming over his muscled back and shoulders. He was so big, so
tall, so very male. All her senses responded to his touch as her questing hands
moved up and down his arms, excited by the play of powerful muscles beneath the
black cotton shirt he wore.
    “Sweet,” Tyree said again, and his hand was warm on her bare
flesh as he loosened her robe and dropped his hand inside her gown.
    The touch of Tyree’s calloused hand on her breast shocked
Rachel into a sudden awareness of what she was doing, and with whom. With a
squeal of alarm, she twisted out of Tyree’s grasp. Two bright spots of color
stained her cheeks, and her eyes blazed with anger and indignation as she
slapped him with all the strength at her command.
    The print of her hand stood out clearly on Tyree’s cheek, as
livid as the rage that flickered and died in his eyes. With a muffled cry,
Rachel pushed past Tyree and headed for the door, but before she could escape,
Tyree grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her backward. Trapping her within
the hard prison of his arms, he turned her toward him and kissed her a third
time, his tongue boldly raping the soft inner recesses of her mouth.
    Rachel struggled in vain, and the more she fought him, the
harder