brusquely and rose from the sofa. “It’s cold in here. I’ll make a fire.”
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the cabin.
Renee sat back on the sofa, relief spilling through her. She’d just told the most outrageous lie of her life, but her luck had held. Her nose hadn’t grown a foot and her pants hadn’t caught fire.
Spending the night alone with John still made her a little nervous, but at least now she had a better feel for the kind of man she was dealing with. A few times in the midst of her tragically sincere performance she saw a hint of compassion beneath his tough-guy demeanor, and instinctively knew she had nothing to fear from him.
Unless he found out she lied.
Chapter 4
T he cold night wind hit John like a slap in the face, and it was a slap he needed badly. He hoped it would clear his head, make him see things more clearly, but as he strode to the woodpile, his brain still felt scrambled. Spending one hour with that woman had been like getting stuck on a roller coaster with no way off.
He glanced back through the window. She was sitting on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees, staring ahead blankly. An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept over him, followed by an even bigger wave of anger. The way she’d looked up at him with those big blue eyes had made him want to beat her abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp. To make him think twice before he hurt a woman who couldn’t defend herself. To render him incapable of even thinking of raising a hand to—
Wait a minute. Where was all this emotional-reaction crap coming from?
John let out a disgusted breath. All he had to do was look at her and he was back on that roller coaster again.
An emotionally involved cop isn’t worth a damn.
He wasn’t acting in a professional capacity here, but the warning was appropriate just the same. He turned around and headed to the woodpile, cursing himself for going nuts over something that was really pretty routine. Hadn’t he seen domestic abuse cases at least a hundred times before? Why was this particular woman making him crazy?
Because he knew what it felt like to kiss her.
The very thought that a man could find it more gratifying to inflict pain on that warm, beautiful body of hers rather than pleasure was completely beyond his understanding. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to go back into that cabin, take her in his arms, and spend the long hours of the night showing her how a man was supposed to treat a woman. To give her something to think about the next time a bastard like that boyfriend of hers decided to take out his aggression on her. To make her understand that for every guy like that, there were a thousand other guys who’d touch her in ways that fueled her daydreams rather than haunted her nightmares—
He yanked up a couple of logs from the woodpile, cursing himself again. He couldn’t believe it. He still wanted her. Even after everything she’d told him, he still wanted her. What did he think he was? Some kind of sexual social worker?
It would be nice to be able to blame this whole mess on her, but he knew he’d been playing with fire back at the diner, and he’d walked right into the flames anyway. This was a perfect example of what happened when he put the cop side of his brain on hold for any length of time. He stopped looking at things rationally and logically.
And started beating up paper-towel dispensers.
With new resolve, he strode back toward the cabin. He’d let her stay here tonight, because at this late hour it would be a pain in the ass to do anything else. Then tomorrow morning he’d deliver her to the local guys and suggest strongly that she give them a statement. Like most battered women, she’d probably refuse, but that wasn’t his problem. After that, he’d head back over to Harley’s place, see what Marva had cooking, and catch up on the local news of Winslow, Texas.
And if a beautiful
Without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the cabin.
Renee sat back on the sofa, relief spilling through her. She’d just told the most outrageous lie of her life, but her luck had held. Her nose hadn’t grown a foot and her pants hadn’t caught fire.
Spending the night alone with John still made her a little nervous, but at least now she had a better feel for the kind of man she was dealing with. A few times in the midst of her tragically sincere performance she saw a hint of compassion beneath his tough-guy demeanor, and instinctively knew she had nothing to fear from him.
Unless he found out she lied.
Chapter 4
T he cold night wind hit John like a slap in the face, and it was a slap he needed badly. He hoped it would clear his head, make him see things more clearly, but as he strode to the woodpile, his brain still felt scrambled. Spending one hour with that woman had been like getting stuck on a roller coaster with no way off.
He glanced back through the window. She was sitting on the sofa, her knees pulled up to her chest and her chin resting on her knees, staring ahead blankly. An unexpected wave of protectiveness swept over him, followed by an even bigger wave of anger. The way she’d looked up at him with those big blue eyes had made him want to beat her abusive boyfriend to a bloody pulp. To make him think twice before he hurt a woman who couldn’t defend herself. To render him incapable of even thinking of raising a hand to—
Wait a minute. Where was all this emotional-reaction crap coming from?
John let out a disgusted breath. All he had to do was look at her and he was back on that roller coaster again.
An emotionally involved cop isn’t worth a damn.
He wasn’t acting in a professional capacity here, but the warning was appropriate just the same. He turned around and headed to the woodpile, cursing himself for going nuts over something that was really pretty routine. Hadn’t he seen domestic abuse cases at least a hundred times before? Why was this particular woman making him crazy?
Because he knew what it felt like to kiss her.
The very thought that a man could find it more gratifying to inflict pain on that warm, beautiful body of hers rather than pleasure was completely beyond his understanding. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to go back into that cabin, take her in his arms, and spend the long hours of the night showing her how a man was supposed to treat a woman. To give her something to think about the next time a bastard like that boyfriend of hers decided to take out his aggression on her. To make her understand that for every guy like that, there were a thousand other guys who’d touch her in ways that fueled her daydreams rather than haunted her nightmares—
He yanked up a couple of logs from the woodpile, cursing himself again. He couldn’t believe it. He still wanted her. Even after everything she’d told him, he still wanted her. What did he think he was? Some kind of sexual social worker?
It would be nice to be able to blame this whole mess on her, but he knew he’d been playing with fire back at the diner, and he’d walked right into the flames anyway. This was a perfect example of what happened when he put the cop side of his brain on hold for any length of time. He stopped looking at things rationally and logically.
And started beating up paper-towel dispensers.
With new resolve, he strode back toward the cabin. He’d let her stay here tonight, because at this late hour it would be a pain in the ass to do anything else. Then tomorrow morning he’d deliver her to the local guys and suggest strongly that she give them a statement. Like most battered women, she’d probably refuse, but that wasn’t his problem. After that, he’d head back over to Harley’s place, see what Marva had cooking, and catch up on the local news of Winslow, Texas.
And if a beautiful
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