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Authors: Diana Palmer
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tonight.”
He looked frankly insulted. “I never make fun of my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” she said coolly, staring at him.
A corner of his chiseled mouth curled upward. “Excuse me.
Our
daughter.”
She finished arranging the silverware. “And would you say something nice about the way she looks?”
“Hold it, honey,” he said silkily, noticing the way her head jerked up at the careless endearment that he’d just used for the first time in their stormy relationship. “I’ve let you get away with murder for the past week, but there’s a limit to my patience.”
“Do you have any?” she asked conversationally.
His chin lifted and his eyes narrowed. “Given the right circumstances, I have quite a lot,” he said, in a tone that rippled along her nerves like a teasing finger.
She hated the hot surge in her cheeks and lowered her hands to rearrange one of the place settings. “That’s something I’ll never know about,” she said.
He didn’t reply, and she looked up straight into his unblinking stare.
It was like lightning striking. She couldn’t have dragged her eyes away from his to save her life, and the intensity of the look they were exchanging made her tingle all the way to her toes. Jude’s nostrils flared with a harsh breath and he moved abruptly, coming so close that she could smell his tangy cologne and feel the heat of him.
He slid one hand into the small of her back. The other pressed against her cheek, and he watched her curiously while his thumb began to move slowly, sensuously, across her lips, back and forth in a rough caress that had the oddest effect on her pulse.
“Cool,” he breathed, “like ice to the touch, even your mouth. I’ve wondered for years what it would take to unstarch you.”
“Don’t think…you could do it,” she whispered shakily.
But he could see the effect his hard thumb was having on her, he could see her lips parting helplessly, feel the in and out of her breath on his chin.
“I’m a man,” he said quietly. “That’s something you seem to have overlooked for a long time. I have all the usual needs, and I’m no virgin.”
She felt her heart beating wildly and she wanted to move away, but when she tried, that steely hand behind her brought her legs against the powerful muscles of his own.
“Stop running, I won’t hurt you,” he growled, watching her mouth. “Not this time, at least. I’m curious about you. I want to know why you’re so damned cold with me.”
“You make my life miserable,” she said jerkily, “you carry me off from my home and force me into a marriage I don’t want, you insult me…and then you have the audacity to wonder why I back away when you come toward me!”
His eyebrows lifted. “You were backing away from me long before I brought you here. Two summers ago. The summer before that.”
Her eyes fell to his chiseled mouth and she tried not to want it. “I’ve only tried to defend myself.”
“After you attacked and set me off,” he agreed. He sighed quietly. “I guess I am pretty hard on you sometimes.”
That admission was startling, because he’d never admitted any such thing before. She glanced up, curious.
“You don’t know why, do you?” he asked, searching her eyes.
She nodded. “Because you dislike me.”
He laughed shortly. “God, you’re green,” he murmured. “Grass green and as out of place here as hothouse orchids.” He caught her chin and tilted it. “That reminds me. I want you to stop putting those damned flowers in my study. Bandy made a remark about it this morning—and about the damned tree you put in the living room. Said you were softening me up.”
She gave him her most belligerent glare. “And what’s wrong with that, Rawhide Man? You’re so hard you can’t enjoy the simple pleasures of life.”
That made him angry. “We don’t need all that,” he said gruffly. “Christmas trees and wreaths on the damned door…next, I’ll find lace sewn on the edges
He looked frankly insulted. “I never make fun of my daughter.”
“Our daughter,” she said coolly, staring at him.
A corner of his chiseled mouth curled upward. “Excuse me.
Our
daughter.”
She finished arranging the silverware. “And would you say something nice about the way she looks?”
“Hold it, honey,” he said silkily, noticing the way her head jerked up at the careless endearment that he’d just used for the first time in their stormy relationship. “I’ve let you get away with murder for the past week, but there’s a limit to my patience.”
“Do you have any?” she asked conversationally.
His chin lifted and his eyes narrowed. “Given the right circumstances, I have quite a lot,” he said, in a tone that rippled along her nerves like a teasing finger.
She hated the hot surge in her cheeks and lowered her hands to rearrange one of the place settings. “That’s something I’ll never know about,” she said.
He didn’t reply, and she looked up straight into his unblinking stare.
It was like lightning striking. She couldn’t have dragged her eyes away from his to save her life, and the intensity of the look they were exchanging made her tingle all the way to her toes. Jude’s nostrils flared with a harsh breath and he moved abruptly, coming so close that she could smell his tangy cologne and feel the heat of him.
He slid one hand into the small of her back. The other pressed against her cheek, and he watched her curiously while his thumb began to move slowly, sensuously, across her lips, back and forth in a rough caress that had the oddest effect on her pulse.
“Cool,” he breathed, “like ice to the touch, even your mouth. I’ve wondered for years what it would take to unstarch you.”
“Don’t think…you could do it,” she whispered shakily.
But he could see the effect his hard thumb was having on her, he could see her lips parting helplessly, feel the in and out of her breath on his chin.
“I’m a man,” he said quietly. “That’s something you seem to have overlooked for a long time. I have all the usual needs, and I’m no virgin.”
She felt her heart beating wildly and she wanted to move away, but when she tried, that steely hand behind her brought her legs against the powerful muscles of his own.
“Stop running, I won’t hurt you,” he growled, watching her mouth. “Not this time, at least. I’m curious about you. I want to know why you’re so damned cold with me.”
“You make my life miserable,” she said jerkily, “you carry me off from my home and force me into a marriage I don’t want, you insult me…and then you have the audacity to wonder why I back away when you come toward me!”
His eyebrows lifted. “You were backing away from me long before I brought you here. Two summers ago. The summer before that.”
Her eyes fell to his chiseled mouth and she tried not to want it. “I’ve only tried to defend myself.”
“After you attacked and set me off,” he agreed. He sighed quietly. “I guess I am pretty hard on you sometimes.”
That admission was startling, because he’d never admitted any such thing before. She glanced up, curious.
“You don’t know why, do you?” he asked, searching her eyes.
She nodded. “Because you dislike me.”
He laughed shortly. “God, you’re green,” he murmured. “Grass green and as out of place here as hothouse orchids.” He caught her chin and tilted it. “That reminds me. I want you to stop putting those damned flowers in my study. Bandy made a remark about it this morning—and about the damned tree you put in the living room. Said you were softening me up.”
She gave him her most belligerent glare. “And what’s wrong with that, Rawhide Man? You’re so hard you can’t enjoy the simple pleasures of life.”
That made him angry. “We don’t need all that,” he said gruffly. “Christmas trees and wreaths on the damned door…next, I’ll find lace sewn on the edges
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