Page 42 of A Treasure Worth Seeking

Her problem was a fear of being disillusioned again if things went wrong.

Why then had she accepted Lance Barrett so readily? Since that first embrace when she still thought him to be Ken, she had felt a desire kindling and igniting until it raged inside her like a forest fire. Even when she was flinging aspersions in his face, she had had to fight that forceful sexual awareness of him.

And he had known it. Her body hadn’t been able to keep its longing a secret and his had instinctively responded. Unconsciously she had exuded a magnetic current that he hadn’t ignored or resisted.

She was playing a dangerous game. Part of her reason for refusing to be Bart’s mistress had been her compulsive desire for a family. Somehow, she had known that Bart wasn’t what she wanted in the way of a husband and father to her children. Becoming too involved with him might put a stumbling block in the way of her achieving what she wanted most out of her life.

If Bart was a stumbling block, Lance was a mountain. A few days from now they would go their separate ways and never see each other again. Why was she gambling her future? A brief affair with Lance led nowhere. It was stupid. It was hopeless. It was immoral.

Yet now, when she could feel his breath against her cheek and the pressure of his arm against the soft cushion of her breast, she also knew that it was ordained and out of her control.

She lifted her head and looked at him. He drowned in the depths of her dark eyes that were wide and liquid with the train of her thoughts. His lips compressed into a stern line when he said, “I’m sorry for what happened last night in the park.”

“You were angry,” she replied simply. “I knew that.”

“That’s no excuse for what I almost did. God! Rape.” He sighed in self-disgust. “I’ve never been violent with a woman, Erin. Believe me. Did I hurt you?” The guilty look on his face melted her heart.

“A little,” she said with a smile.

“I wish it had never happened. If I could undo it, I would.”

“Why don’t you apologize?” she suggested seductively.

He smiled down at her tenderly and placed his index finger on her lips. He moved it from one corner of her mouth to the other with a slow, provocative stroke. “Erin, I apologize for my beastly behavior.”

“Your apology is accepted,” she whispered. His finger lowered her bottom lip and raked against her teeth.

Furtively, he glanced around him. “I wish we weren’t in so public a place,” he grumbled.

“Why? What would you do if we weren’t?”

“E… Erin.” He said her name through gritted teeth as she caught his finger in her mouth and sucked on it gently. “If your hand comes any farther up my thigh, you’ll know beyond a shadow of a doubt what I would do.”

“What would you do,” she challenged breathlessly.

He picked up the thrown gauntlet. “I’d probably kiss you like this.”

He kept one arm firmly around her and, with the other hand, cradled her face as he lowered his lips to hers. At first he teased her, biting gently on her lips, painting them with his tongue. He pulled back slightly to review the results of his torment. Her eyes were partially veiled with her black-fringed lids and her breath was escaping through parted lips, shiny and wet with the lubricant of his own mouth.

“Erin,” he breathed as his lips closed over hers. Now was not the time to solve their problems. What if she did have a fiancé who was a millionaire? She wasn’t wearing his damn diamond ring now. He knew almost to the minute when she had taken off that symbol of another man’s claim.

What if he would never see her again? What if her income quadrupled his? What the hell did any of that matter now?

She was here. It was dark and cozy and they needed each other. Her body was supple and gave in to the demands of his. Her dear hand lay only inches from that part of him that knew her intimately and strained to know her again. Her lips were opened and receptive to his searching tongue. He had a hard time restraining a moan that formed in his chest and pushed up to clog his throat.

“You taste like brandy.” The kiss was over, but their lips were still touching. “From now on, I’ll love brandy.”

“Drink some more,” he said. This time it was her tongue that explored his mouth, finding all the hollows and filling them. When she pulled away, she teased the cleft in his chin with that relentless tongue which left him feeling weak and conversely powerful.

Her index finger replaced her tongue in that intriguing crevice as she asked huskily, “And if you got away with kissing me like that, then what would you do?”

He was all too eager now to participate in this duel of the senses. He put on his stern government agent face and said, “I’m not convinced that you’re not some hardened criminal hiding behind a sexy disguise. Especially now that you’ve tried to seduce me, my suspicions are aroused.”

“That’s not all that’s aroused,” she said in a barely audible singsong voice.

Did she actually brush her hand over him or was that only his overactive imagination? Hell, the way he felt now, anything was possible. He swallowed hard and grated, “You’re getting me off the subject.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said contritely. “Please continue.”

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