Page 41 of Wyoming Heart

“It has spikes, actually,” she chided.

He laughed. “Just as well. I’m terrified of virgins.”

“Are you really?” she asked and seemed curious about the answer.

He drew in a long breath. “How much do you know about your own body?”

She cleared her throat. “I know enough. Health class was very specific.”

“You learned about...barriers?”

She flamed. “Well...”

He bent and brushed his mouth over hers. “That’s what terrifies me,” he concluded. “Just so you know.” He lifted his head, but his eyes were solemn. “I get hot when I touch you. Really hot. I almost lost control, before you pulled away.” His big hands rested on her shoulders, and he looked ages older than she was. “It’s been a while since I’ve indulged my base urges. So we need to cool it.”

She lowered her eyes to his shirt. “I didn’t start it.”

“You didn’t have to.” He tilted her chin up and studied her. “Did McGuire get what you gave me?”

Her mouth fell open. Her eyes were like saucers.

He thought about McGuire and his wealth, and a nagging thought came into his mind and refused to be banished. He didn’t like her around the other man. He wondered what she saw in him. If she wasn’t indulging her hunger with McGuire, why wasn’t she? Was she stringing the man along, for some ulterior motive? Making him hungry so that he’d give her anything she wanted? The thought wouldn’t go away. He knew about mercenary women. They came in all shapes and sizes, and some of them were really good actresses. They could fake innocence. He didn’t trust women. Not even this one, who appealed to his senses in an uncommon way.

His pale eyes darkened. “McGuire could buy and sell most men around here. And you’ve got a tiny little ranch. Compared to some others.”

She drew back and her dark eyes started to glitter.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“THAT’SANASTYINSINUATION,” she said shortly.

He pursed his sensual, slightly swollen lips as he studied her. “It is, isn’t it? He’s rich and you’re not. And you’re dating him.”

She bit her lower lip, almost drawing blood. She looked up at him with pain in her eyes. How could be believe that she was that mercenary?

The answer was that he’d seen it firsthand. He was richer than McGuire, but she didn’t know. She felt and tasted innocent. But he’d been fooled before. Maybe she knew about him, knew the truth, and she was just playing a game.

His pale brown eyes narrowed. “You were dirt-poor growing up, weren’t you?” he asked suddenly.

She swallowed, hard, and pulled away from him. “Yes.”

He studied her, taking in her soft mouth, her hostile eyes, her rigid posture. He was confused. It had been a long time since he’d wanted a woman so much. What if he leveled with her; told her who he really was, offered her pretty things?

She drew in a breath, turned and went back to her piecrusts. “In case you were wondering,” she said in a voice that was just a little shaky with anger, “I won’t do anything for money. That was my mother. Not me.”

Why he should feel guilty was a puzzle. But he did. She couldn’t be making it up. He’d heard the truth about her past from Bart already. She’d been victimized in a terrible way by her mother’s boyfriend. So why was he accusing her of being mercenary? Perhaps because he’d had experience with women who’d had nothing and wanted everything.

He didn’t want to be taken in again. He had to keep his hands off her and put some distance between them. She was sweet and responsive and he was hungry. Very hungry. It had been a long time. Well, it had been a long time for him, he amended. And if there was even a chance that she really was a virgin...

His pulse jumped, just thinking about it. He’d never had an innocent. She made him ache. It was uncomfortable.

“Was there anything else?” she asked tersely.

He moved to the table and leaned his hip against it while he watched her hands work. His own hands were deep in the pockets of his jeans, to keep them honest. Her face was averted, but he could see the pain in it. Would a mercenary woman really look like that?

“I don’t trust women,” he said bluntly. “I don’t like them much, either.”

She glanced at him, surprised at the honesty. She swallowed. “I don’t like men much,” she replied. She grimaced. “There’s all this hoopla about how women can do anything. But when Henry took that belt to me, all I could think about was how big he was. I was afraid to fight him, because he was drunk and I thought it would just make him use the belt even harder.”

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