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reading the vintage titles, until one caught her
attention. The Two Little Travellers. Pulling it out from
its nest, she slipped her hand over the worn hardcover as emotion
swathed her. The picture of the boy and girl had faded with time,
but she remembered every detail and every line written. When she
was a child, her mother had read from the book as Bronte had
listened intently. Through blurred vision, she thumbed through the
yellowed pages.
    “Be careful. That is a treasure.”
    Bronte jumped and the book went flying from her
hands to land with a loud thump at her feet. She whirled and found
Roark sitting in the wing back chair by the window, the same chair
that had been empty when she came into the library. “Why do you
keep doing that? How the hell do you keep doing that?”
    “Your instincts are weak, my dear.” He got up and
moved toward her—lean, muscular body, long legs. Sex appeal at its
finest.
    He’d changed and was cleanly shaven. The ends of his
long hair were damp and dripped onto his shirt. A whiff of soap and
man invaded her senses as the image of them in the tub together
came back. Her insides quivered and she forced the telltale feeling
away. Smoothing her tongue over her lips, she was finally able to
speak again. “My instincts are just fine. You should worry about
the weakness of your brain cells.”
    One corner of his mouth cocked. Of course, he’d find
humor in her bluntness. He bent, picked up the book, and as he
brushed past her to replace it, his body warmth seeped through her
clothes and deep into her skin. She stepped back until imprisoned
by the shelf and Roark. Gazing up into twinkling eyes surrounded by
long, sooty eyelashes, she guessed he could melt any woman within a
ten-mile range, including her and she didn’t like it one bit.
    Seconds turned into minutes. She wondered if he’d
kiss her because his eyes told her that he wanted to. She didn’t
want him to…not at all. It didn’t mean anything that she wondered
what he tasted like.
    “What do you think of my library?” he asked, a
crease marred the area between his brows.
    “I don’t see you as the reading type.”
    He laughed and the sumptuous sound played her nerve
endings like a stringed instrument. “Not only do I read, but I am
talented and skilled in many things.”
    Insufferable , egotistical man! But sexy like
a tanned hero.
    “I can only imagine what skills you speak of.
Burping, ducking low ceilings and combing the swamp for dinner is
what comes to my mind.”
    “Those weren’t your thoughts, my dear.” His breath
swept across her cheek.
    He leaned closer and she breathed in and out, but
her insides remained unsteady and shaky. She stared at him through
her lashes and hoped with all her inner strength that if he kissed
her, she wouldn’t be overcome with a disobedient need.
    A disappointed moan escaped her trembling lips when
he circled her wrists with his long fingers and inspected her
wound. Trying to pull away, she wasn’t sure if she didn’t try hard
enough or that he held her firmly, but she didn’t move. While he
touched her, sparks skipped along her veins and parked with
vengeance in her lower belly. Parts of her quivered—ones she never
even knew she had until now. Her core pulsated and her panties
moistened, and she realized he was more dangerous than she could
imagine.
    “You didn’t dress the wound. The supplies were in
your bathroom.”
    Angry at herself, she narrowed her gaze and made him
the target. “I’ll be fine! And how dare you stitch me!”
    “Maybe next time I’ll have to cut off the hand
because infection has settled in.” His crystal eyes met hers as if
in challenge.
    She gulped air. Damn him! “Cut off any part
of my body and I will rid you of your jewels, both of
them.”
    “And then what fun would you and I have together?”
His eyebrow lifted.
    “That’s the last thing we’ll ever do,” she forced
the words through thin lips.
    “But I feel your need.” He skimmed