Sullivan's Woman by Nora Roberts Page B

even more compelling in the flesh. She wondered at the strange quirk in her own personality that caused her to find moodiness appealing.
    With only the barest effort she could feel the swift excitement of his lips on hers. Warmed, she drifted with the sensation. For a moment she imagined what it would be like to be held by him in earnest. Though her experience with men had been limited, her instincts told her Colin Sullivan was dangerous. He interested her too much. His dominance challenged her, his physicality attracted her, his moodiness intrigued her.
    Gail Kingsley’s scathing comment about Cassidy’s predecessor came back to her. She had a quick mental picture of the redhead’s demanding beauty and the model’s sultry allure. Cassidy St. John, she mused, is at neither end of the spectrum. She isn’t strikingly vivid nor steamily sexy. Feminine extremes apparently appeal to Colin both as an artist and as a man. She caught herself, annoyed with the train of her own thoughts. It would not do to get involved or form any personal attachments with a man like Colin Sullivan. Don’t get too close, she cautioned herself. Don’t open any doors.
Don’t get hurt.
The last warning came from nowhere and surprised her.
    â€œRelax.”
    Cassidy focused on Colin and found him staring down at the canvas. His attention was concentrated on what only he could see. “Go change,” he directed without glancing up. Cassidy’s thoughts darkened at his tone. Rude, she decided, was a mild sort of word for describing Sullivan the artist. Controlling her temper, Cassidy went back to the dressing room.
    My worries are groundless, she told herself and closed the door smartly. No one could possibly get close enough to that man to be hurt.
    A few moments later Cassidy emerged from the dressing room in her own clothes. Colin stood, facing the window, his hands jammed into his pockets, his eyes narrowed on some view of his own.
    â€œI’ve left the dress hanging in the other room,” Cassidy said coldly. “I’ll just be off, since you seem to be done.” She snatched up her purse from the chair. Even as she swung it over her shoulder and turned for the door, Colin took her hand in his.
    â€œYou’ve that line between your brows again, Cass.” He lifted a finger to trace it. “Smooth it out and I’ll buy you some lunch before you go.”
    The line deepened. “Don’t use that patronizing tone on me, Sullivan. I’m not an empty-headed art groupie to be patted and babied into smiles.”
    His brow lifted a fraction. “Quite right. Then again, there’s no need to go off in a tiff.”
    â€œI’m not in a tiff,” Cassidy insisted as she tried to jerk out of his hold. “I’m simply having a perfectly normal reaction to rudeness. Let go of my hand.”
    â€œWhen I’m through with it,” he replied evenly. “You should mind your temper, Cass my love. It does alluring things to your face, and I’m not one for resisting what appeals to me.”
    â€œIt’s abundantly clear the only appeal I have for you is on that canvas over there.” Cassidy wriggled her hand in an attempt to free it. With a quick flick of the wrist, Colin tumbled her into his chest. Mutinous and glowing, her face lifted to his. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
    â€œYou challenge me to prove you wrong.” There was amusement in his eyes now and something else that made her heart beat erratically.
    â€œI don’t challenge you to anything,” she corrected with a furious toss of her head. Her hair swung and lifted with the movement, then settled into its own appealing disarray.
    â€œOh, but you do.” His free hand tangled in her hair and found the base of her neck. “You threw down the gauntlet the night I found you in the fog. I think it’s time I picked it up.”
    â€œYou’re being