Susan Stephens - Taming the Last Acosta

She huffed, as if she didn’t care what he thought, but even so her gaze was drawn to his mouth. ‘I just wonder what type of photographer you think I am,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘A very good one, from what I’ve seen today, Señorita Winner,’ Kruz said softly, completely disarming her.

‘ Gracias ,’ she said, firming her jaw as they stared at each other.

And now Kruz should leave. And she should stay where she was—at the back of the coach, as far away from him as possible, with a desk, a chair and most of the coach seats between them.

She waited for him to go, to close the door behind him and bring this madness to an end.

He didn’t go.

Leaning over the driver’s seat, Kruz hit the master switch and the lights dimmed, and then he walked down the aisle towards her.

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