Warm Hearts by Barbara Delinsky Page B

rest on her arm in light possession. He liked the way her slender body felt by his, liked the smoothness of her skin, the gloss of her hair, the faint floral scent that was so in keeping with his dreams. Most of all, he liked the fact that she was no longer a dream but real.
    â€œMaybe you’d better leave,” was his quiet suggestion to Elliot.
    But Elliot didn’t hear. He was too busy working himself into a self-righteous rage. “I don’t deserve this, Caroline. For three months I’ve been indulgent. I’ve let you call the shots. If you wanted to see a particular show, I took you. If you wanted to eat at a particular restaurant, I took you. When you were busy with work, I said, ‘Okay. I respect you for that.’ Where’s the respect I deserve in return?”
    â€œElliot, please don’t,” Caroline said.
    â€œWhy not? Do you find the truth unsettling?”
    What he had said wasn’t exactly the truth. She knew that he was trying to save face in front of Brendan, but, in his indignance, he was digging the hole deeper. “Nothing will be accomplished by—”
    â€œShouldn’t I fight for what I want?”
    â€œIs that what you were doing just before I got here?” Brendan asked, his low voice cutting through the air like the purr of a whip.
    Elliot grew rigid. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth and shut it in the same breath.
    Caroline turned her head to meet Brendan’s gaze, then promptly forgot both his words and Elliot’s presence.
    Brendan was beautiful. She couldn’t think of another word, and she knew that an impartial observer might think her daft, but she didn’t care. His jaw was firm, square and covered by the dark shadow she’d come to expect. But she hadn’t expected the tiny white scar on his chin, or the quick softening of his lips when she’d turned, or the faint crookedness of his nose. And though she’d hoped that his eyes would be brown, she hadn’t expected that they would be like thick, rich velvet, stroking her deep inside. She hadn’t dared hope that they would hold such longing.
    He gave a tiny, secret smile. Hi, Caroline.
    She returned both the smile and the greeting. Hi, Brendan.
    Did we finally do it?
    I think so.
    His hand left her arm. The backs of his fingers lightly brushed her cheek. Her lips parted. She tipped her head until those lips touched his thumb.
    â€œShit, I don’t need this!” Elliot growled.
    Jolted by the intrusion, Brendan and Caroline whipped their heads around in time to see him stomp to the door, grab the knob and slam it shut on his way out.
    Then, more slowly, they looked back at each other.
    â€œHi,” he said aloud. His voice was nearly as velvety as his eyes, but a smokiness underlay that velvet to produce something extraordinarily manly.
    â€œHi,” she whispered. Standing there, looking up into his eyes, she nearly melted. Her limbs liquefied; her blood flowed faster. Any tension that Elliot’s angry departure had caused seemed to gather, break apart, float away.
    Brendan’s gaze shimmered over each of her features. “I was beginning to think it would never happen.”
    â€œMe, too.”
    â€œI didn’t plan it this way.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œBut I couldn’t just sit there and let him paw you.”
    She knew that she’d been far from helpless, but that didn’t matter. “I’m glad you came,” she said, then, unable to resist, raised a hand to his jaw. His beard was rough and spoke of strength. She shaped his lean cheek with her palm and whispered her thumb over his chin.
    He closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them, they were darker. “Your touch is gentle. Nice.”
    â€œI kept imagining what you’d look like.” Her fingers crept to his lips. Her eyes crept higher, meeting his in a wordless expression of admiration.
    The compliment touched him to the core.