Peppermint Creek Inn by Jan Springer Page A

her hand.
    “Because you remind me of a stray tomcat. Whiskers and all,” she replied shakily.
    He smiled a damned irresistible sexy smile that made her toes curl. Then he sunk his head a little deeper into the pillows.
    “More like something the tomcat dragged in,” he mumbled and his eyelids began to droop sleepily.
    “You said it, I didn’t,” she laughed as she tucked in the sides of the blankets to keep him warm.
    She wanted to ask him more questions, but they’d have to wait until he felt stronger.
    “Mrs. Clarke?” he said sleepily and blinked to keep his eyes open.
    “Yes?”
    “Thanks for taking care of me.”
    “Thank you for not dying on me. I would have been a very unhappy camper after all the work I put into you.”
    “Why are you helping me?”
    “You saved my life. And because you asked for my help.”
    “I’ll have to figure out some way to repay you.”
    “You can repay me by getting some beauty rest, Tom.”
    She didn’t miss the grimace etch along the wonderful lines around his mouth.
    “I look that bad, huh?”
    “Worse.”
    He sighed and he slid even deeper into the pillows.
    “You’ll get no arguments from me. At least for now.”
    His eyelids finally fluttered closed and from the steady rise and fall of his gorgeous, naked chest, she knew he slept.
    Sara frowned.
    Amnesia. The man has amnesia.
    What she wouldn’t do to forget her past, to forget that one stormy night. To forget all the pain she carried inside her heart.
    At one point, she’d almost succeeded in losing her pain forever by taking the easy way out. But she was better now.
    At least she thought she’d been better until that tree had come hurtling down toward her.
    Would she be dead if Tom hadn’t been here to grab her? Would she have simply stood there and accepted death?
    She didn’t know. What she did know was when the tree was coming toward her, for a split second, she wanted to forget her pain.
    But he’d saved her.
    She found herself studying his face as she’d been doing a hundred times over the past couple of days.
    She marveled at how much she loved those crinkled lines edging like crows feet from the corners of his closed eyes. And she really loved the tender lines around his mouth.
    While he slept, an almost youthful innocence splashed across his features making him very appealing. It was this innocence that allowed her to reach out and brush a stray curl of dark hair from his forehead.
    As she touched him, electricity shot up her fingertips. In less than a heartbeat, she wanted to kiss him.
    Slowly, without thinking, she bent down, her mussed hair falling across his face. His delicious peppermint tea-scented breath cascaded tenderly around her cheeks pulling her closer to him.
    Gently, before she even realized it, she’d brushed her lips across his hot mouth. His beard and mustache tickled her face erotically. His full, sweet lips trembled beneath her feather-light kiss and suddenly he mumbled something.
    Horror-stricken, Sara backed away from him, fully expecting his eyes to snap open at any second.
    Thankfully, they didn’t and he remained fast asleep.
    As she watched him sleep, a whirlwind of emotions stampeded through her.
    Fear perhaps being the most prevalent. Fear for the stranger lying in her bed. Of what would happen to him when he was better. And he was definitely getting better.
    Already a bit of color had seeped into his face. And she’d noticed the intense way he looked at her. Noticed the sexual hunger in his bright, alert gaze.
    She felt the hunger, too. An ache for her vagina to be filled by him. At that thought, exciting spirals of delight raced like a tornado through her and she tried to stop them by reminding herself that this man, this total stranger, was probably going to spend the rest of his life behind bars, or at the very least, die a very tragic death. Somehow, her mind wouldn’t allow her to dwell extensively on that possibility.
    Her heart wanted to believe he was a