Anne Winston - Ready for Marriage?

‘‘ Half a million .’’ He was too shocked to conceal it. ‘‘Five hundred thousand dollars? Where’d it go?’’

‘‘If I knew that, it wouldn’t be a discrepancy, would it?’’ Her voice was just the slightest bit sarcastic. Immediately, she said, ‘‘I’m sorry. I know how you feel. It’s difficult to believe. When I first found it, I went over every column of the books.’’ She tapped the stack of files in the box. ‘‘It went out, largely in small untraceable sums, but it never came back in again.’’

He still couldn’t grasp it. ‘‘Are you telling me you think Cathie took it?’’

‘‘I don’t know what to think.’’ Her voice was anguished. ‘‘But that’s what it’s looking like.’’

‘‘Good God.’’ He sat back, and a heavy silence fell. Finally, he stirred. ‘‘Well, what do we do? We can’t ask her,’’ he muttered.

‘‘No.’’ Kristin sounded close to tears. ‘‘But I absolutely don’t want any hint of this to get out and accusations to fly unless we’re completely certain that it’s really missing and that Cathie had something to do with it.’’ She sniffed. ‘‘She loved the sanctuary. I can’t believe she would embezzle from us.’’

‘‘Kris, honey, don’t cry.’’ Without thinking, he rose from his chair and went to her, drawing her up and into his arms. ‘‘Let’s double-check everything. Maybe there’s some explanation you just missed. You know how it is when you’re too close to the numbers.’’

She nodded into his chest. ‘‘Maybe that’s it.’’ Her arms tightened around his waist. ‘‘Thanks. I knew you’d help.’’

‘‘We’ll figure it out together,’’ he soothed. ‘‘You know you can come to me with anything.’’ She felt soft and feminine in his arms, her body warm and giving against his, and without letting himself think about whether or not it was wise or smart, he put a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his. ‘‘God, Kris, I’ve missed you so much.’’

And then her hands were sliding up into his hair and he set his lips on hers, his whole body coming alive to the feel of hers as he tightened his arms and pulled her more fully to him.

Four

It was the kind of kiss she’d dreamed of during countless lonely nights. Derek’s arms were around her, bringing her close enough to feel the contours of his strong male frame. One was wrapped around her waist, the other engulfed her shoulders and she could feel his large palms pressing against her back.

She wasn’t short, but Derek made her feel tiny and fragile. His dark head blotted out the light as he bent to her and his shoulders seemed a mile wide. His arms and chest were hard and roped with muscle from both his weekly workouts and the hours he spent on the larger animals in his practice. In a town as small as Quartz Forge, a vet couldn’t be simply a small-animal vet or an avian vet. Derek handled all the animals, farm, pet and other, that came his way.

His mouth—oh, dear heavens, his mouth! His kiss wasn’t tentative, though at first it was sweet and undemanding, his lips caressing and clinging, nibbling at her lower lip and gently sucking it into his mouth. But she wasn’t capable of hiding her feelings where he was concerned and when he recognized her response, he teased her lips apart and sought out her tongue, gently flirting with her until his kiss grew deep and sure, his tongue drawing hers into a steady thrust and retreat that echoed the motions of his hips against hers.

She’d run her fingers up the back of his neck when he’d first touched her. Now she spread them wide, cradling his skull as he bent her backward over one arm with the force of his kiss.

His fingers flexed, kneading her waist and she hung in his arms as he melded their hips together. He was heavy and hard against her and she thrilled to the exquisite pleasure of knowing she was the woman who’d gotten him into such a state. Her own body was swollen, throbbing, driving her to move against him, to relieve the breath-stealing intense delight toward which she was steadily spiraling.

But then she became aware of a change in position. Derek was lifting her more upright, and his mouth was gentling, slowing, the contained ferocity of his kisses giving way to calmer, lighter ones as he withdrew. He didn’t let her go completely, still loosely encircling her waist, and she allowed her hands to slide down to his chest, suddenly feeling a ridiculous but undeniable shyness, and she couldn’t meet his gaze.

‘‘Kris?’’ His voice was husky and he cleared his throat.

‘‘Yes?’’ Slowly she lifted her head and made eye contact.

He was smiling, a wry lopsided expression. ‘‘I, ah, don’t know what to say.’’

She dared a small smile of her own. ‘‘Let’s not say anything.’’

He sighed, his chest rising and falling beneath her hands. ‘‘I can’t do that, and you know it.’’

She sighed, too. ‘‘Mr. Have-It-All-Laid-Out. You’re right—you can’t do it.’’

A frown touched his face and his eyes clouded. ‘‘You know me so well….’’

‘‘That bothers you?’’

He hesitated. ‘‘No.’’

‘‘But you wish you hadn’t kissed me.’’ Her euphoria had fled. He didn’t have to say it; she read it in his eyes. Hurt sliced through her, even deeper than before. Now she knew what Heaven could be. Having it vanish right before her eyes was hell.

‘‘Yes. No. I don’t know!’’ He threw up his hands and moved away from her, pacing in the familiar way he always did when he was agitated. ‘‘I need some time to work out my feelings, to decide what to do—’’

‘‘Don’t get yourself in a panic, Derek.’’ She kept her voice flat and even, containing tears through sheer willpower as she slid the files back into the box. ‘‘I’m not asking anything of you. Nothing has to change.’’

He stared at her, his face growing dark. ‘‘The hell it doesn’t.’’

‘‘Don’t swear at me. I’m just trying to keep you from guilting yourself to death!’’ Now her voice was sharp with exasperation but doggone it, he was just so darn dense . ‘‘It was only a kiss.’’

‘‘Was it?’’ He stepped forward as she backed toward the door, and suddenly he wasn’t safe, familiar Derek anymore. He was a stranger, a stranger with hot, exciting questions in his eyes, a man to whom she felt an overwhelming sexual attraction. He snagged the lapels of her blouse, and hauled her close to him again.

They stared at each other for a moment, the silence thick and charged with tension.

‘‘Things have changed,’’ he said in a low, intense voice. ‘‘I just have to figure out what to do about you.’’

She hated the way he made her sound like a problem he had to take care of and her temper flared again. ‘‘There’s nothing to figure out,’’ she said, taking his wrists and tugging his hands away, aware that she was only free because he’d allowed it. ‘‘You don’t make decisions about how you feel. It just happens. Or it doesn’t.’’

She turned the doorknob but he put his hand on the door, holding it closed for a moment. ‘‘I need some time to think about you,’’ he said. ‘‘About us.’’

Her heart leaped, but she squashed the blossom of feeling. How could he not recognize what they had? What they could have? And why on earth did she want a man who had to think before deciding how he felt about her?

‘‘There is no us,’’ she said, ‘‘and if you imagine I’m going to sit home waiting while you dissect your feelings and decide whether or not I might be allowed to fit into your life, you are seriously mistaken.’’ Her voice was shaking and tears were threatening to spill as she wrestled the door out of his hand and escaped into the night.