holding her against that marvelously male body—and the next he’d marched her to the door. Given her the boot as if she’d been some pesky saleswoman hawking an inferior product.
Oh, it was mortifying.
With temper still ringing in her ears like bells, she strode around the living room, circled it twice. He’d put his hands on her, he’d made the moves.
He’d
kissed her, damn it. She hadn’t done anything.
Except stand there like a dolt, she realized as temper sagged miserably into embarrassment. She’d just stood there, she thought as she wandered into the kitchen. And let him put his hands on her, let him kiss her. She’d have let him do anything; that was how dazzled she’d been.
“Oh, you’re such a fool, Rowan.” She dropped into a chair and, leaning over, lightly beat her head against the kitchen table. “Such a jerk, such a wimp.”
She’d gone to him, hadn’t she? Stumbling around in the woods like Gretel with a bunch of cookies instead of bread crumbs. Looking for magic, she thought, and rested her cheek on the smooth wood. Always looking for something wonderful, she acknowledged with a sigh. And this time, for just a moment, she’d found it.
It was worse, she realized, when you had that staggering glimpse, then had the door slammed in your face.
God, was she so needy that she’d fall at the feet of a man she’d met only twice before, knew next to nothing about? Was she so weak and wobbly that she’d built fantasies around him because he had a beautiful face?
Not just his face, she admitted. It was the … essence of him, she supposed. The mystery, the romance of him that had very simply bewitched her. There was no other word that fit what he made her feel.
Obviously, quite obviously, it showed.
And when he had touched her because he’d seen through her pitiful ploy of seeking him out to thank him, she’d climbed all over him.
No wonder he’d shown her the door.
But he hadn’t had to be so cruel about it, she thought, shoving up again. He’d humiliated her.
“‘You’re not ready for me,’” she muttered, remembering what he’d said. “How the hell does he know what I’m ready for when I don’t know myself? He’s not a damn mind reader.”
Sulking now, she ripped the top off the container of cookies and snatched one. She ate it with a scowl on her face as she replayed that last scene, and gave herself wonderful, pithy lines to put Liam Donovan in his place.
“So, he didn’t want me,” she muttered. “Who expected him to? I’ll just stay out of his way. Completely. Totally.” She shoved another cookie into her mouth. “I came here to figure out myself, not to try to understand some Irish recluse.”
Slightly ill from the cookies, she snapped the lid back on. The first thing she was going to do was drive into town and find a bookstore. She was going to buy some how-to books. Basic home maintenance, she decided, stalking back into the living room for her purse.
She wasn’t going to go fumbling around the next time something happened. She’d figure out how to fix it herself. And, she thought darkly as she marched out of the house, if Liam came to her door offering to fix it for her, she’d coolly tell him she could take care of herself.
She slammed the door of the Rover, gunned the engine. An errant thought about flat tires made her think she’d better find a book on car repair while she was at it.
She bumped along the dirt road, clamping down on the urge to work off some of her frustration by stomping on the gas. Just where Belinda’s little lane met the main road, she saw the silver bird.
He was huge, magnificent. An eagle, she thought, automatically stepping on the brake to stop and study him. Though she didn’t know if any type of eagle was that regal silvery gray or if they tended to perch on road signs to stare—balefully, she decided—at passing cars.
What wonderfully odd fauna they had in Oregon, she mused, and reminded herself to read more
Oh, it was mortifying.
With temper still ringing in her ears like bells, she strode around the living room, circled it twice. He’d put his hands on her, he’d made the moves.
He’d
kissed her, damn it. She hadn’t done anything.
Except stand there like a dolt, she realized as temper sagged miserably into embarrassment. She’d just stood there, she thought as she wandered into the kitchen. And let him put his hands on her, let him kiss her. She’d have let him do anything; that was how dazzled she’d been.
“Oh, you’re such a fool, Rowan.” She dropped into a chair and, leaning over, lightly beat her head against the kitchen table. “Such a jerk, such a wimp.”
She’d gone to him, hadn’t she? Stumbling around in the woods like Gretel with a bunch of cookies instead of bread crumbs. Looking for magic, she thought, and rested her cheek on the smooth wood. Always looking for something wonderful, she acknowledged with a sigh. And this time, for just a moment, she’d found it.
It was worse, she realized, when you had that staggering glimpse, then had the door slammed in your face.
God, was she so needy that she’d fall at the feet of a man she’d met only twice before, knew next to nothing about? Was she so weak and wobbly that she’d built fantasies around him because he had a beautiful face?
Not just his face, she admitted. It was the … essence of him, she supposed. The mystery, the romance of him that had very simply bewitched her. There was no other word that fit what he made her feel.
Obviously, quite obviously, it showed.
And when he had touched her because he’d seen through her pitiful ploy of seeking him out to thank him, she’d climbed all over him.
No wonder he’d shown her the door.
But he hadn’t had to be so cruel about it, she thought, shoving up again. He’d humiliated her.
“‘You’re not ready for me,’” she muttered, remembering what he’d said. “How the hell does he know what I’m ready for when I don’t know myself? He’s not a damn mind reader.”
Sulking now, she ripped the top off the container of cookies and snatched one. She ate it with a scowl on her face as she replayed that last scene, and gave herself wonderful, pithy lines to put Liam Donovan in his place.
“So, he didn’t want me,” she muttered. “Who expected him to? I’ll just stay out of his way. Completely. Totally.” She shoved another cookie into her mouth. “I came here to figure out myself, not to try to understand some Irish recluse.”
Slightly ill from the cookies, she snapped the lid back on. The first thing she was going to do was drive into town and find a bookstore. She was going to buy some how-to books. Basic home maintenance, she decided, stalking back into the living room for her purse.
She wasn’t going to go fumbling around the next time something happened. She’d figure out how to fix it herself. And, she thought darkly as she marched out of the house, if Liam came to her door offering to fix it for her, she’d coolly tell him she could take care of herself.
She slammed the door of the Rover, gunned the engine. An errant thought about flat tires made her think she’d better find a book on car repair while she was at it.
She bumped along the dirt road, clamping down on the urge to work off some of her frustration by stomping on the gas. Just where Belinda’s little lane met the main road, she saw the silver bird.
He was huge, magnificent. An eagle, she thought, automatically stepping on the brake to stop and study him. Though she didn’t know if any type of eagle was that regal silvery gray or if they tended to perch on road signs to stare—balefully, she decided—at passing cars.
What wonderfully odd fauna they had in Oregon, she mused, and reminded herself to read more
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