Page 19 of A Match Made in Montana

Annie stopped and blinked. Craig was standing right in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed fresh air.”

“Me, too.”

“Have you read your mystery novel?”

She nodded.

“And?”

“Maybe science fiction will work better.”

He chuckled softly, his breath caressing her cheek.

“Did he kiss you?”

She inhaled sharply. “You can’t ask me that!” she cried out softly.

Craig took a step closer.

The butterflies in her tummy went ballistic.

“You wanted to test your theory,” he said. “I’m in on the deal, so of course I have to know if your experiment worked.”

“Yes, he kissed me. And it was… it was… nice.”

“Any beading?” In the dim glow of the streetlight, his eyes looked feverish.

Her body responded. “No, damn it,” she grumbled.

His fingers grazed her nipples. “It’s beading now. Why is that, do you think?”

Mesmerized, she watched his mouth, her own just about dribbling.

The hysterical little voice finally penetrated the red haze of desire and shakily, she took a step back. “It doesn’t count. I had wine.”

He chuckled. “Okay. So one out of the three. We’ll test your theory tomorrow in the light of day when we’re both stone-cold sober. Let me walk you home.” He took her hand.

Silently, they walked down the street toward her house. With every step, she grew more and more aware of him. They didn’t have far to walk, but by the time they’d reached the front door of her house, she was feverish with need.

Quickly, she took the key from her pocket and tried to unlock the door. It fell. They both crouched down to pick it up. Their hands touched.

Craig groaned as he stood up. “Damn, Annie, you’ll be the death of me.”

He took the key and unlocked the door. “I’ll see you around ten?”

She had to brush against him to enter her house. His warm breath caressed her face. She had one more step to take, but then she made the mistake of looking up at him.

He cupped her face. “Just one kiss?”

“Okay, but no hands,” she breathed.

Dropping his hands, he chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Annie.” He bent his head and warm, urgent lips captured hers. A whirlwind picked her up, her senses took over her brain and with a moan, she grabbed hold of his shirt with both her hands.

Hungrily, his mouth moved over her face, trailing wet kisses down her neck, before his lips met hers again. Big hands slid down her back, molding her against him. She reveled in his hardness, the ache that had settled deep in her belly became almost unbearable.

“Annie? Is that you?” Mitch called from somewhere in the house.

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