Wyoming Woman by Elizabeth Lane Page B

fingers and shattered on the floor. She bent forward to snatch up the pieces, but Luke’s hand caught her arm, jerking her upright. The motion whipped her against him, flattening her breasts against his chest. His eyes drilled into her like bullets.
    â€œTell me.” His voice was flat and cold.
    â€œI…don’t know what you’re talking about!” she stammered, struggling against panic.
    â€œYes, you do, Rachel. When those four cowboys rode away, they passed right by the place where you were hiding. When you came out from behind those rocks, you looked as if you’d seen a ghost. At the time I thought you were just scared. But there’s more to the story than that, isn’t there?”
    â€œLet me go, Luke,” she whispered.
    â€œIsn’t there?” His hand tightened on her arm. “You knew the bastards, didn’t you?”
    â€œThey were masked. Please—”
    â€œYou knew them. And you can give me their names.”
    â€œYou’re wrong!” She forced herself to meet his blazing eyes. “And even if you weren’t, even if I could give you their names, you’d have no proof they had anything to do with your friend’s death.”
    â€œI’d have a lead. I’d have a trail to follow. That’s a hell of a lot more than what I have now.” He forcedher upward, so that she was standing on tiptoe, her face a few perilous inches from his own. “Damn it, woman, we’re not just talking about a few sheep here! We’re talking about a man’s life! We’re talking about murder! If you have a spark of common decency in that self-centered little heart of yours—”
    His words ended in a growl of frustration. Rachel’s mind groped frantically for a way to end the standoff. She could swoon or pretend to be sick—but no, that would not fool him. It would only make him angrier, as would trying to fight him.
    Only one thing came to mind, and before her courage had time to fail her, she did it.
    â€œRachel—”
    Her mouth stopped his words. She kissed him hard, her free arm hooking the back of his neck so that he could not pull away. His body jerked and went rigid against her. His mouth was like carved marble, cold and resistant, but Rachel knew that breaking away now would be like jumping off the back of a tiger. Her pulse rocketed as she willed her lips to melt against his, willed her tongue to flick lightly against the taut ridge of his lower lip. He tasted of bacon and strong black coffee, and the stubble on his jaw was like rough velvet against her skin.
    For the space of a long breath he stood like a wall against her. Then, with a groan, he released his arms to slide around her, molding her to him so tightly that she could feel his shirt buttons through her bodice. His response went through her like a hot blade through wax. Her heart slammed as his mouth tookcontrol of their kiss. His tongue probed deftly between her lips, brushing her tingling flesh until she ached to draw him inside her, to taste him, to feel him.
    She groped for the last vestige of her self-control, then let it go. Sweet heaven, what was happening to her? Kissing boys at school had been an amusing game. She had always been the one in charge, the one who made and enforced the rules and never went too far. But she had never kissed a man like Luke Vincente.
    Rachel’s legs had gone liquid beneath her. Her loins seethed with molten, shimmering heat. Moisture slicked her thighs. She moaned out loud as his hands found the curve of her hips, pressing her lightly against him but stopping just short of the exquisite pressure that her body craved. The man was playing her, she suddenly realized. He was teasing her, tantalizing her with the skill of an experienced lover who knew exactly what he was doing.
    He was making an utter fool of her!
    Suddenly furious, Rachel wrenched herself away from him. She stumbled backward, half falling against