manner. But in her heart she ached for something more.
And what she ached for most just now was the touch of Matt Thorne. Sin that it was, she couldn't stop wanting it.
Heaven above, what had she started by giving in to her need to have a little adventure?
Matt stopped outside the door to the library and stood quietly in the darkened hall for a long moment. He'd awakened from his latest “little nap” at eleven-thirty, disgusted with himself for losing yet another chance to charm Sarah. He had figured she would certainly be sound asleep by now, while he, with a completely goofed-up internal clock, was wide awake and starving for food and companionship. Thinking he could at least find the former downstairs in the kitchen, he had pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made his way down the stairs as quietly as a man with a cane could. The puddle of light spilling out of the library had drawn his attention and he'd gone down the hall without managing to alert either Sarah or Blossom the Wonder Hound.
He stood now watching her, studying her like he might study a work of art, watching the play of light on her features, looking for the secret meaning to her expression and pose. She sat curled on the dark green sofa, embracing a book as a child might embrace a teddy bear, her eyes squeezed tight in concentration on a thought that would doubtless remain a mystery to him.
Lord, she was lovely. So simple, so pretty. He'd been watching her now for four days and he couldn't get over her mixture of innocence and hidden fire, the sweetness of her smile and the bright curiosity in her eyes. He didn't feel worthy of touching her, but at the same time it was what he most wanted to do. He wanted to hold her as she was holding her book and have some of that simple purity wash away the dark edges of his soul. Hell, he just plain wanted her. He was at one of life's great crossroads, and at the moment the onlypath he wanted to follow was the one that led across his sister's library to Sarah Tftyer. He didn't question the urge; he merely gave in to it, being a man used to having his own way.
“Doing a little light reading, I see”' he said diyly.
Sarah jolted out of her meditation, her eyes widening, her heart racing from something more than just the start he'd given her. He stood before her looking rumpled and irresistible in soft-looking baggy gray trousers and wool socks that fell around his ankles. He was eyeing the stacks of books she'd placed around her with amusement. There had to be thirty of them, all sizes and types, piled in groups of four and five on the arm and seat of the sofa and on the floor in front of her. If she'd sat in that chair for a week, she wouldn't have been able to read them all.
“You shouldn't be out of bed.” It was the first thing that came to her mind and she cringed inwardly, wondering if she was thinking of his welfare or her own.
Matt decided it was a rhetorical comment and made no reply as he eased himself down on the middle cushion of the sofa. He plucked the encyclopedia out of Sarah's hands and glanced over the page she'd had it opened to.
“I guess a person can never know too much about the manufacture of ball bearings. Ihaven't kept up with it myself. My ideas are probably horribly out of date.”
Sarah pulled the book out of his hands and closed it, her mouth twisting into a wry little smile.
“Ah, a smile. Does that mean you're not still mad at me?”
“I wasn't angry with you. Why would you think I was?”
Matt lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, I don't know. I guess the last time a woman shot daggers at me with her eyes, largely refused to speak with me for two days, and ran out of my room at the first opportunity, she was angry with me. Something about my lack of charm.”
“I can't imagine that,” Sarah muttered dryly.
“Really?” He grinned engagingly. “You find me charming? Even in my current state of dishabille?”
Sarah fidgeted, picking at the wrinkles
And what she ached for most just now was the touch of Matt Thorne. Sin that it was, she couldn't stop wanting it.
Heaven above, what had she started by giving in to her need to have a little adventure?
Matt stopped outside the door to the library and stood quietly in the darkened hall for a long moment. He'd awakened from his latest “little nap” at eleven-thirty, disgusted with himself for losing yet another chance to charm Sarah. He had figured she would certainly be sound asleep by now, while he, with a completely goofed-up internal clock, was wide awake and starving for food and companionship. Thinking he could at least find the former downstairs in the kitchen, he had pulled on a pair of sweatpants and made his way down the stairs as quietly as a man with a cane could. The puddle of light spilling out of the library had drawn his attention and he'd gone down the hall without managing to alert either Sarah or Blossom the Wonder Hound.
He stood now watching her, studying her like he might study a work of art, watching the play of light on her features, looking for the secret meaning to her expression and pose. She sat curled on the dark green sofa, embracing a book as a child might embrace a teddy bear, her eyes squeezed tight in concentration on a thought that would doubtless remain a mystery to him.
Lord, she was lovely. So simple, so pretty. He'd been watching her now for four days and he couldn't get over her mixture of innocence and hidden fire, the sweetness of her smile and the bright curiosity in her eyes. He didn't feel worthy of touching her, but at the same time it was what he most wanted to do. He wanted to hold her as she was holding her book and have some of that simple purity wash away the dark edges of his soul. Hell, he just plain wanted her. He was at one of life's great crossroads, and at the moment the onlypath he wanted to follow was the one that led across his sister's library to Sarah Tftyer. He didn't question the urge; he merely gave in to it, being a man used to having his own way.
“Doing a little light reading, I see”' he said diyly.
Sarah jolted out of her meditation, her eyes widening, her heart racing from something more than just the start he'd given her. He stood before her looking rumpled and irresistible in soft-looking baggy gray trousers and wool socks that fell around his ankles. He was eyeing the stacks of books she'd placed around her with amusement. There had to be thirty of them, all sizes and types, piled in groups of four and five on the arm and seat of the sofa and on the floor in front of her. If she'd sat in that chair for a week, she wouldn't have been able to read them all.
“You shouldn't be out of bed.” It was the first thing that came to her mind and she cringed inwardly, wondering if she was thinking of his welfare or her own.
Matt decided it was a rhetorical comment and made no reply as he eased himself down on the middle cushion of the sofa. He plucked the encyclopedia out of Sarah's hands and glanced over the page she'd had it opened to.
“I guess a person can never know too much about the manufacture of ball bearings. Ihaven't kept up with it myself. My ideas are probably horribly out of date.”
Sarah pulled the book out of his hands and closed it, her mouth twisting into a wry little smile.
“Ah, a smile. Does that mean you're not still mad at me?”
“I wasn't angry with you. Why would you think I was?”
Matt lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Oh, I don't know. I guess the last time a woman shot daggers at me with her eyes, largely refused to speak with me for two days, and ran out of my room at the first opportunity, she was angry with me. Something about my lack of charm.”
“I can't imagine that,” Sarah muttered dryly.
“Really?” He grinned engagingly. “You find me charming? Even in my current state of dishabille?”
Sarah fidgeted, picking at the wrinkles
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