The Black Sheep and the Princess by Donna Kauffman Page B

capitulating, which he doubted she was buying. Good thing, too. Because, while he didn’t mind keeping her in the loop, if he thought something was going to keep her and the camp safe, he was doing it whether she okayed it or not.
    â€œRule number two. Hands off.”
    Now he lifted an eyebrow. “Except—”
    â€œNo exceptions.”
    â€œThere are always exceptions.”
    She slowed down slightly and stared at him.
    â€œOkay, okay,” he said, lifting his hands. “Eyes on the road.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œHands off,” he responded.
    â€œPromise,” she reiterated.
    â€œYou trust my word, but not me?”
    â€œPromise.”
    He sighed. “I can’t.”
    She started to say something, then stopped as his answer apparently sunk in.
    â€œRoad,” he said casually.
    She swerved back into her lane, swearing under her breath. “What do you mean you can’t? You mean you won’t.”
    â€œNo, I mean I can’t. I don’t lie, Kate. And since I can’t guarantee I’m never going to put my hands on you again, I’m not going to promise you that I won’t. I can promise I’d try, but why bother? We both know I won’t try all that hard if I don’t want to. Either we will get tangled up again or we won’t; it’s as simple and as complicated as that. You can’t go making rules about it.”
    â€œSure you can. You might be impulsive and impatient, but even as a teenager you had self-control. At least where I was concerned anyway.”
    She sounded almost…put out by that. He hid his smile this time. He wanted to get the rest of the way into town in one piece. “That was then. I’ve tasted you now.”
    He glanced over in time to see her swallow hard and notice how her knuckles grew even whiter, which was saying something considering she already had a death grip on the steering wheel. What she didn’t do was argue with him. He relaxed. Just a little. “I can make you one promise, though.”
    â€œI’m dying to hear it,” she said, not bothering to temper her sarcasm.
    â€œI won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
    The truck pulled a little to the right when she convulsively loosened her hold on the wheel, and she said something under her breath that sounded a lot like “sweet Jesus,” which he doubted had anything to do with keeping the truck in the right lane. But he wouldn’t swear to it.
    He took greater stock in the blush that stained her previously pale skin. “You know, you look better with a little color in your cheeks. I don’t think you’re getting enough sleep. Or something. So, what are the other rules?”
    â€œOh, shut up. I don’t know why I bothered.”
    â€œSee? Just what I said.” He grinned. “I’m growing on you, aren’t I?”
    â€œGetting under my skin is more like it,” she muttered.
    â€œAs long as I’m getting somewhere.”
    â€œDonovan, I swear, if you—what?” she said when she glimpsed something in his expression.
    He didn’t think he’d been that obvious. “Mac.”
    â€œWhat? Oh. Right. What difference does it make? It’s not like you don’t know who I’m talking to.”
    She slowed as they came around the final bend into town. They had maybe a few minutes left at best. He debated on getting into it, or just letting it go. But, if they were talking about things getting under her skin, she had no idea how hearing her say his birth name got under his.
    She shrugged. “You’ve always been Donovan to me. At least, that’s how I’ve always thought of you, not that we talked or anything.”
    The only other woman who’d ever called him that was his mother. Not that he remembered much about her, other than the stories that had followed her right out of Winnimocca. But he knew from those stories that she’d