beat strong, like a
timpani keeping time to the music.
Laughing, she
let herself be taken by him. It had been a long time since she'd laughed so
hard, or let her guard down enough to have a little fun. Part of her, some
hidden place deep inside her head, told her that it wasn't a good idea. But
Sara ignored it.
Her stomach
hurt from laughing so much. Her head was spinning like a disk on a turntable.
When the song ended, she tried to pull free, but Mitch held her tight.
“You're not
getting away from me that easy,” he said, his eyes dark filled with wild desire
she felt deep inside her.
A flutter of
panic raced through her. What she was thinking? What she wanted couldn't
happen. When Mitch gazed at her this way, with eyes that were an endless sea
of warmth and charm, with arms so strong they made all the mistakes of the past
melt away like ice on hot plate, her mind turned to mush. She couldn't think
at all.
She wanted
Mitch to kiss her, to feel that connection of man and woman. Her mind told her
that it was only because they were two normal healthy adults, living together
in the same house and it had been a long time since a man had held her this
way. It had nothing to do with real attraction and desire. But even she knew
that was a lie. She was fiercely attracted to Mitch, and denying it didn't
make it go away.
Wrapping his
arms around her waist, Mitch drew Sara toward him as if they were going to
dance a very intimate slow number. The music had somehow faded into the
background and all she could hear was her own heart hammering in her chest,
beating in time with Mitch's.
Sara focused on
his lips and wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Mitch Broader. It
was a dangerous thought, frightening, and yet, very exhilarating at the same
time.
Mitch bent his
head and brushed his lips against hers, sending shock waves pulsing through her
veins. It was sweet, yet controlled in a way that she didn't feel. In a way
that had her body begging for more. As he pulled back, his eyes flashed with
smoky passion. If he were feeling half of what she was, Mitch had to have
enormous strength to keep from losing control. And then he smiled, pulling
away and dancing again.
Vaguely
disappointed that the music had started again, Sara let him twirl her around
the dusty floor. Mitch held her, like a bunch of flowers that would bruise if
he applied the least amount of pressure. Yet his strength was evident in the
way he moved her with him, leading, yet not demanding she go his way.
He winked once,
and then, with his arm around her waist, dipped her back so he hovered above
her and she had to cling to him to keep from falling.
She laughed at
the sheer craziness of dancing in the workshop with Mitch. He laughed too. A
rich sound that rumbled deep inside his chest.
The lyrics had
ended and the music was winding down to a stop. Mitch lifted her hand high in
the air and twirled her around. By her own clumsiness, her hip caught a hammer
sticking out from the workbench and pitched it over the edge of the bench,
along with a small box of tool bits the hammer's edge caught. In the corner of
her eye, Sara saw the movement. Her mind registered there would be a crash to
the floor. What she didn't anticipate was Mitch's quick movement, quickly
bolted closer to her to catch the box of tools before it tumbled and hit the
ground.
And stark image
flashed in her mind, vivid and blinding, and suddenly she was no longer in the
workshop, but in her kitchen in California. The face she saw coming at her
wasn't Mitch's, but that of her ex-husband. As Mitch advanced, Sara's breath
caught in her throat and her arms flew up to her side, her fists bunching.
Before she could register that she was not in her house in California, but on
the Double T Ranch, she scurried away to the far side of the workshop like a
cat who'd been scared by the toppled over box.
“Sara?”
As her
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