belong.
“I’m sorry, Archer.” She sighed as he glared down at her. “Unlike you, my momma didn’t
teach me all the finer points of responsible manners.”
“No, but I know damned good and well all those fancy girls’ schools you attended taught
you that, and more,” he grunted as he gripped her arm and moved to lead her up the
steps from the front curb to the porch.
“I’m not a child.” Pulling her arm free of his hold she stared up at him archly. “I
know how to walk on my own.”
His touch did something to her that she had no idea how to combat. She wanted to throw
herself in his arms, beg him to touch her, to take her, to drive her crazy with his
kiss.
“Hell, woman, you’re going to drive me to drink.” He sighed as she moved up the steps,
strode quickly across the small front yard, then up several more steps to the front
porch.
“Do you really think I will?” Cocking her head to the side she watched as he stepped
on the porch and unlocked the door.
“Well, let’s hope not,” he stated. “But if you do, it’s my fault alone, and none of
yours.”
Stepping into the house, Anna looked around at the heavy dark wood of the furniture
and matching dark curtains that kept the room to a bare glimmer of light that managed
to spill into it.
As Archer stepped into the house and closed the door, Anna watched in complete wonderment
as a huge, dark brown shadow stalked slowly from the hall. Body crouching in predatory
mode, belly low to the ground, golden brown eyes, nearly identical to those of his
owner, peered around the side of the couch.
Anna deliberately ignored him as she hoisted the strap of the backpack higher on her
shoulder and followed Archer through the foyer to the sunlit kitchen at the far end
of the large entryway.
“Oscar, be a good kitty,” Archer chastised the cat behind her as they entered the
bright, roomy kitchen. A wide archway led to the living room, another to the dining
room beside it, and then what appeared to be a study from the other side of the room.
“You can put your things down,” he told her as he moved to the coffeepot. “I’ll show
you up to the guest room in a minute.”
After the inevitable interrogation, she guessed.
“I’m not in the mood for twenty questions, Archer,” she informed him. “This hasn’t
been one of my better days, and I’d like to just lie around and feel sorry for myself
for a while. I have a feeling you don’t consider your guest room pity-party central,
though. Right?”
His gaze was like a heated caress against her flesh. A caress she had no choice but
to pretend to be unaware of.
“What happened, Anna?”
The question hung between them as she dropped the backpack and purse at her feet.
She’d known he was going to ask. Archer should have been a prosecutor rather than
a sheriff.
“What makes you think anything happened?” Wrapping her arms across her breasts, she
turned and paced to the wide sliding glass doors that looked out to the private balcony
beyond.
“Now, what would make me think anything happened?” he asked mockingly. “Could it have
been the fact that you were walking down that damned mountain road like a little waif?”
Like a little waif—
“A waif is defined as a person, especially a child, who has no home or friends,” she
murmured mockingly. “I actually had cause to have to define the word last year.”
She could hear the tears in her own voice, feel them tightening her throat.
“Anna, tell me what happened.” The gentleness in the demand almost broke the hold
on her tears.
Lifting her eyes to his reflection as he moved to her, Anna watched as his hands,
so large and broad, settled against her shoulders, his thumbs stroking gently beneath
her nape.
“Do you know your mother called me?” he asked when she didn’t answer.
“What did she say?” Jerking her gaze to the reflection of his eyes, Anna felt her
heartbeat
“I’m sorry, Archer.” She sighed as he glared down at her. “Unlike you, my momma didn’t
teach me all the finer points of responsible manners.”
“No, but I know damned good and well all those fancy girls’ schools you attended taught
you that, and more,” he grunted as he gripped her arm and moved to lead her up the
steps from the front curb to the porch.
“I’m not a child.” Pulling her arm free of his hold she stared up at him archly. “I
know how to walk on my own.”
His touch did something to her that she had no idea how to combat. She wanted to throw
herself in his arms, beg him to touch her, to take her, to drive her crazy with his
kiss.
“Hell, woman, you’re going to drive me to drink.” He sighed as she moved up the steps,
strode quickly across the small front yard, then up several more steps to the front
porch.
“Do you really think I will?” Cocking her head to the side she watched as he stepped
on the porch and unlocked the door.
“Well, let’s hope not,” he stated. “But if you do, it’s my fault alone, and none of
yours.”
Stepping into the house, Anna looked around at the heavy dark wood of the furniture
and matching dark curtains that kept the room to a bare glimmer of light that managed
to spill into it.
As Archer stepped into the house and closed the door, Anna watched in complete wonderment
as a huge, dark brown shadow stalked slowly from the hall. Body crouching in predatory
mode, belly low to the ground, golden brown eyes, nearly identical to those of his
owner, peered around the side of the couch.
Anna deliberately ignored him as she hoisted the strap of the backpack higher on her
shoulder and followed Archer through the foyer to the sunlit kitchen at the far end
of the large entryway.
“Oscar, be a good kitty,” Archer chastised the cat behind her as they entered the
bright, roomy kitchen. A wide archway led to the living room, another to the dining
room beside it, and then what appeared to be a study from the other side of the room.
“You can put your things down,” he told her as he moved to the coffeepot. “I’ll show
you up to the guest room in a minute.”
After the inevitable interrogation, she guessed.
“I’m not in the mood for twenty questions, Archer,” she informed him. “This hasn’t
been one of my better days, and I’d like to just lie around and feel sorry for myself
for a while. I have a feeling you don’t consider your guest room pity-party central,
though. Right?”
His gaze was like a heated caress against her flesh. A caress she had no choice but
to pretend to be unaware of.
“What happened, Anna?”
The question hung between them as she dropped the backpack and purse at her feet.
She’d known he was going to ask. Archer should have been a prosecutor rather than
a sheriff.
“What makes you think anything happened?” Wrapping her arms across her breasts, she
turned and paced to the wide sliding glass doors that looked out to the private balcony
beyond.
“Now, what would make me think anything happened?” he asked mockingly. “Could it have
been the fact that you were walking down that damned mountain road like a little waif?”
Like a little waif—
“A waif is defined as a person, especially a child, who has no home or friends,” she
murmured mockingly. “I actually had cause to have to define the word last year.”
She could hear the tears in her own voice, feel them tightening her throat.
“Anna, tell me what happened.” The gentleness in the demand almost broke the hold
on her tears.
Lifting her eyes to his reflection as he moved to her, Anna watched as his hands,
so large and broad, settled against her shoulders, his thumbs stroking gently beneath
her nape.
“Do you know your mother called me?” he asked when she didn’t answer.
“What did she say?” Jerking her gaze to the reflection of his eyes, Anna felt her
heartbeat
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