Sally Berneathy - Private Vows

Maybe she wasn’t completely off base about the blood belonging to her fiancé. Maybe she had a phobia about ambulances because he’d been taken away in one, though Cole certainly didn’t think she’d put him there.

He could be wrong, of course. She could have been a completely different person before her memory loss. But he didn’t think so. Her kind of helpless terror was bone-deep and came from the soul.

She nodded, still not looking at him, as if she was embarrassed over her outburst. “It’s hard to fight your fears when you don’t know what causes them.”

She sounded quite rational. She’d be fine. He should release her, let her stand without his support, take her back to the shelter and leave her alone to cope with things as best she could.

He should release her, but, damn, she felt good in his arms. Now that her panic had subsided, she was no longer a victim but merely a beautiful woman…a woman with rounded breasts beneath her white cotton blouse, breasts that were pressed against him because he held her so tightly, one hand at her slim waist and the other splayed across her back. Her hair the color of moonlight was long and soft and brushed his hand as she leaned her head back to look up at him. Her full lips were slightly parted as if she knew he wanted to kiss them…as if she wanted him to kiss them.

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