Beverly Barton - This Side of Heaven

When he had approached her, she'd held up the sheet that barely covered her naked body.

"We need to talk before you leave," he had said. "I brought in your gown and robe from the garden. Put them on while I fix coffee."

He'd left her alone then, giving her time to think about what she had done and what she was going to do now. She loved Nate Hodges. That and that alone was the only clear fact in her mind. She had come to him last night, throwing caution to the wind, forgetting everything except the pas­sionate need to become his woman.

And now, he was going to send her away.

Common sense told her that she should go, leave him and find a way to overcome the overwhelming desire she felt for him. After all, he was hardly the kind of man she would have chosen for herself. He had spent almost all of his adult life as a navy SEAL, a professional warrior, a trained and highly skillful killer. By his very nature, Nate was a violent man. How could she ever reconcile herself to loving a man capable of destroying another human being with his bare hands?

And yet, how could she keep from loving him when every feminine instinct she possessed told her that Nate Hodges needed her, more than he had ever needed anyone or any­thing in his life?

Nate entered the bedroom. He handed her a mug filled with freshly brewed coffee. "Sugar and milk," he said.

Accepting the mug, she smiled. "Thanks."

He sat down in the wooden chair beside the bed. Their knees almost touched. Cyn readjusted her sitting position, moving her legs away from Nate's.

"Should I apologize for what happened?" he asked, looking at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She stared down into the creamy brown coffee. "What happened between us was a mutual decision. I... I came to you because I couldn't stay away. And... and you—"

"Took you because I couldn't stop myself."

Jerking her head up, she glared at him, wondering if he regretted making love to her. "You make me feel vulnera­ble, Nate, and I don't like feeling that way. For as long as I can remember, I've always been the one in charge, the strong one, the one others came to for help, depended on to solve their problems."

"You can't help me, Cyn."

"So you keep telling me." She took a sip of her coffee, then circled the warm mug with both hands. "But knowing you don't want my help doesn't stop me from wanting to give it to you."

"For once in your life, let someone else take care of you. Let me make sure you're safe." He bent over slightly in the chair, dropping his hands between his spread knees. "I can't allow you to become important to me. It would put you in danger."

"I don't understand."

"The less you know, the safer you'll be."

Cyn jumped up, the contents of her mug splashing onto her silk robe, staining the aqua material with wet tan splotches. She flung the mug, coffee and all, across the room. With a splintering crash, the ceramic cup broke into pieces and the muddy liquid splattered the wall, then spread down onto the floor.

"It's too late to shut me out of your life. Haven't you got sense enough to realize that?" She stood in front of him, her intent gaze fixed on his startled face. "I'm in love with you. Whether I want to be or not. Do you think I go around sleeping with men I don't love?"

Nate stood up. When he tried to touch her, she shoved against his chest. "Of course I don't think you—"

"Maybe what we shared didn't mean anything to you. Maybe you can just send me away and go on with your life." Cyn sucked in the soft inner flesh of her mouth, closing her teeth downward in an effort to keep herself from crying. "I hate your damned knife collection." She jabbed her index finger into his chest. "I despise the fact that you spent twenty years in the SEALs, doing God only knows what." She jabbed him again. "You're a man who uses violence to settle his disputes. I've seen you in action. You're a deadly weapon."

Her words wounded Nate more surely than any knife in his extensive collection could have. Her every accusation was right on target. How could he defend himself to a woman as loving as Cyn? Why should he even try?

He grabbed her by the shoulders so quickly that she didn't have time to evade his capture. She struggled momentarily, then stopped trying to pull away from him.

She met his fierce stare head-on. "Loving a man like you goes against everything I've ever believed in, and yet I can't change the way I feel. Something inside me tells me that you need me, and yet you keep trying to send me away. I think I have a right to know why."

Tightening his hold on her shoulders, he pulled her closer, so close her breasts brushed his naked chest. She trembled with desire from the intimate contact. Heat spread through his body. "I don't need you, Brown Eyes. Not the way you think.'' Hell, he knew he was lying to her, but he couldn't lie to himself. He needed Cyn Porter as surely as he needed air to breathe, but the last thing she needed was him—a man who could bring danger and death into her life.

Cyn took in quick, ragged breaths as she stared at Nate, love and longing in her eyes. "Am I making a fool of my­self?" she asked, her voice trembly with tears.

"We're both fools," he told her, his own voice deliber­ately hard and controlled. He dropped his hands from her shoulders. "We've allowed our hormones to get us into a dangerous situation."

"There's more between us than overactive hormones." Stepping away from him, she tilted her head slightly, then stuck out her chin, a defiant, determined look on her face. "What we shared went beyond good sex."

Nate fought the urge to take her in his arms, the over­whelming desire to admit to Cyn that what he felt for her went beyond anything he'd ever experienced, even in his dreams. "The sex was good, wasn't it?"

"Don't do this, Nate. Don't try to alienate me by playing the chauvinist male.''

"But that's exactly what I am. I'm no Prince Charming, no answer to a maiden's prayers. You said yourself that loving me goes against everything you've ever believed in."

"What kind of trouble are you in?" she asked, taking a tentative step toward him, knowing that he was deliberately trying to be insulting enough to make her run.

He held out a restraining hand, a visible reminder that he didn't want her to touch him. "There's a man I knew years ago. In Nam." Nate walked across the room, wanting to put physical space between him and the woman who was so de­termined to help him. Dear God, how much he wanted to accept what she was offering. But he couldn't.

"A part of your violent past?" Somehow she knew that whatever danger he faced, he intended to confront it by calling upon his skills as a warrior. Live by the sword, die by the sword flashed through Cyn's mind.

"Yeah," Nate said, hating the look of condemnation he saw in her eyes. "Something happened between me and this man, something you don't need to know about." How could he ever tell Cyn the whole story and expect her to under­stand? Without knowing any specific details of his past, she was already repulsed. If she knew the bloody facts, she would hate herself for loving him.

"You can tell me anything. I'll understand." She went up behind him, wanting to put her arms around him, longing to ease the pain she heard in his voice, saw in his slumped shoulders. If only she could help him put his violent past behind him, and teach him how to live in peace. Surely he could change. All he needed was for her to show him how. Violence didn't solve anything; it only destroyed life.

"The less you know, the better," he said.

"Then tell me what I need to know." She reached out, allowing her hand to hover in mid-air, almost touching his tense back.

"This man, Ryker, swore he'd kill me someday, swore revenge. For the past five years, I've thought he was dead, that I didn't have to be constantly looking over my shoul­der, waiting for the day of reckoning." Nate turned, facing her. "He's alive. He's, on his way to St. Augustine, and when he finds me, he's going to try to kill me."