The Cutting Edge by Linda Howard

didn’t want to let her go. A man could get used to this in a hurry.
    He’d marry her, he thought coolly. She suited him, more than he’d thought possible. And once they were married, he’d put a final stop to the way she had of flirting with every man in the vicinity. She was his, and he wasn’t going to stand by and watch her turn a man on with those slow smiles and that magnolia-and-honey drawl of hers.
    A sense of satisfaction came over him as he imagined being married to her. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted. Marriage had never figured in his plans for the future, but Tessa had changed all that. The dissatisfaction he’d been feeling with his present life suddenly crystalized, and he knew what he was going to do. He’d marry Tessa, quit his job with Carter-Marshall and take her to Wyoming. Ranch life was what he wanted, what he liked best, and she’d fit right in. It was time old Tom was a grandfather, anyway. His first thought was of the sons he’d have with Tessa, then his imagination supplied the picture of a baby girl with Tessa’s enchanting smile and wide green eyes, and a tumble of dark curls on her head. He broke out in a sweat. Hell, what was he letting himself in for? A daughter of Tessa’s would keep him on pins and needles for years, wondering whatwild young buck was sniffing around his baby girl, and his baby girl would probably be flirting like mad and encouraging those wild young bucks.
    In the dark, an unwilling grin spread over his hard face. Life with Tessa would never be boring. And she’d said that she loved him. She’d marry him without question, whenever he wanted. All in all, it was a very satisfactory plan. He relaxed, hugging Tessa closer to him, her bewitching fragrance tantalizing him as he drifted into sleep.
    Tessa woke first the next morning, made restless by the unfamiliar weight and warmth in her bed. When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at the back of his head. During the night he’d turned over on his stomach and he was sprawled out on the bed, taking up his share of the bed and half of hers. Her breath caught at the sight of his tousled tawny hair, like a shaggy lion’s, and her heart actually skipped a beat. Love so powerful that it hurt welled up in her, and she’d reached out a trembling hand to touch him before she realized what she was doing and drew it back. Let him sleep. What should she say to him this morning, anyway? How should she act? Surprised, she realized that she was nervous about facing him the morning after. The compulsive passion they’d shared had made them intimate physically, but she was unsure of where she stood in every other way.
    Gingerly, she slid off the bed and grabbed up her robe, quietly leaving the room to take a shower. Her eyes were troubled. She’d told him how she felt about him, but not even in the most passionate moments between them had he indicated that he felt anything for herother than sexual attraction. That was powerful enough, she admitted wryly, standing under the shower head and letting the water hit her full in the face. Her body was tender and achy, reminding her of his strength, reminding her of what had happened between them the night before.
    She paused, her thoughts drifting. It had been good, so good that she’d thought she would die from the sharp pleasure of it. So that was what it was like… . She’d never imagined it would be so wanton, and so exalted. So that was what it was like to give herself to the man she loved.
    When she finished with her shower, she wrapped herself in the robe and peeked into her bedroom, but Brett was still asleep. She went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the table, folding her hands on the tabletop and staring at nothing, her thoughts absorbed by the man in her bed and the lovemaking they’d shared during the night. Despite his passion, she sensed that there was a