Read Online Jane Bonander by Warrior Heart - Free Book Online Page A

man is a gentleman. A man who imbibes seldom is.”
    He winced. “ ‘Imbibes.’ Damned fancy five-dollar word for something as simple as taking a drink, don’t you think?”
    She stepped closer still, beginning to feel the warmth of the fire. This arousal, this…excitement was new to her. It was so seldom that she allowed herself to let go, to explore dangerous sensations. “What word would you use, Mr. Wolfe?”
    He expelled a healthy sigh and pulled a thoughtful expression. “Let me see. How about ‘bibulate’?”
    She repressed a smile. “ ‘Bibulate’? That’s good, but ‘guzzle’ and ‘swill’ seem more appropriate.”
    Frowning, he shook his head. “Too crass. How about…” His gaze found her mouth, and Libby held her breath. Her tongue came out to wet her lips.
    “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was husky and deep. Like warm whiskey. She shivered, repeating the gesture, nervous to the bone.
    One side of his mouth lifted into a half smile. “You did it again.”
    She shook her head. “No. I… I was taking it back.” Lord, what kind of foolishness was this?
    A warm, raucous chuckle escaped. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
    Her face was on fire. “It means I was taking it back.”
    “Oh, no,” he argued. “It’s an invitation to a kiss. It’s part of an obscure Australian ritual.”
    If nothing else, he was an intriguing drunk. In spite of her discomfort, she had to smile. “Since I’m ignorant of Australian rituals, obscure or otherwise, rest assured that what I did was not an invitation.” Her body hummed beneath her gown, and the pulse at her throat hammered against her skin. His gaze continued to tease. Taunt.
    “How ’bout ‘suck’?”
    She shook herself. “What?”
    “Suck.” His gaze moved from her mouth to her chest.
    She swallowed, feeling an odd pulling sensation on her nipples. “Suck?”
    He lifted his glass. “You know, ‘bibulating’?”
    An exquisite yet foreign feeling scudded through her stomach. She folded her arms across her chest and pressed them against her waist. “I don’t believe that word makes any sense in this context, Mr. Wolfe.” Why was she bothering with him at all? Sober, he was gentle and solemn. Drunk, he was disgusting, just like every other liquored-up boob she’d ever known. Yet she was fascinated.
    He waved the glass in her direction. Some of the liquor sloshed over the brim, spilling onto the floor. “I disagree. So does Mr. Webster. Wanna look it up?”
    She watched the liquid seep toward the rug, then lunged, using the hem of her dressing gown to stop the stream. Finding herself on her hands and knees in front of him, she slowly lifted her head. He was staring at her chest. She glanced down to find her gown gaping open. He had an unrestricted view of her bosom.
    Their eyes met. Libby’s heart continued to pound, and her body thrummed as she folded the neck of her robe in her fist.
    He touched her arm, his grip a light pressure. “I’ve been all over the world, Mrs. O’Malley, and you are as intoxicating as any woman I’ve seen.”
    With a twinge of reluctance, she drew her arm away. “ Intoxicated is the word, Mr. Wolfe, although it describes you, not me.”
    His hand drifted onto her thigh, and Libby stood up so quickly she saw spots before her eyes.
    He sighed and took another swig of his brandy. “I shouldn’t drink.”
    Why she didn’t turn and run, she didn’t know. “Nothing is good unless it’s done in moderation,” she answered.
    “Except sex.”
    His lack of inhibition shocked her. No man had ever spoken so boldly to her before. He probably deserved a sharp smack across the face, but oddly, she’d been lured into the conversation like a trout to a fisherman’s fly.
    “Sex in moderation is truly a bore,” he announced, his words beginning to slur. He raised his finger at her and shook it. “I oughta know. I’ve been searching for the cure to boring sex all over the