Excerpt

Rebecca headed to the back stairs while Catherine grabbed the lantern off the kitchen table and walked to the front door.

Through the lace curtains, she could see the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Perhaps Rebecca would get her wish after all.

Rolling her eyes at the very indecent thought that flicked across her mind, Catherine opened the door.

She took one glance at the handsome stranger who had his head turned to look at his horse, and dropped the lantern straight to the floor.

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O’Connell cursed as the lantern’s fire exploded on the pine boards of the porch. Reacting without thought, he dropped the black Stetson and saddlebags in his hand, and stamped at the flames. His spurs jingled loudly as he stomped, then to his chagrin, the flames spread to his boots and set fire to the toes of his left foot.

He hissed in pain as he whipped his black duster off and put out the fire on his smoking boot. Then, he quickly used the duster to extinguish the rest of the fire.

Luckily, the fire didn’t do much damage, but the porch and door would need a good washing come morning.

"Good Lord, woman," he snapped. "You ought to be more...." his words trailed off as he looked up and met wide, startled brown eyes.

They were the same eyes he’d been dreaming of not more than a few minutes before.

"Catherine?" he whispered.

Catherine couldn’t move as she stared into the handsome, devilish face that had coaxed her away from everything she had ever known.

Ask and ye shall receive, her father’s favorite phrase echoed in her head.

Stunned by his sudden appearance, she took his form in all at once. He was still as handsome as sin with dark brown hair that was short in back with long bangs that draped becomingly into eyes so silvery gray they appeared almost colorless.

Captivating and searing, his eyes could haunt a woman night and day. And she ought to know since they’d done nothing but torment her since the moment she had first seen them.

His face had grown thinner over the years, adding sharp, angular planes to it. But they in no way detracted from the perfection of his patrician features. Dark brows contrasted sharply with his silver-gray eyes, and his broad nose still had the tiny bump in the center where she’d broken it.

Glory, but he was scrumptious. Completely and utterly scrumptious, like a rare treat of succulent chocolate after a long abstinence.

He’d always possessed a powerful, compelling, masculine aura that was downright salacious in nature. An aura that reached out and captured the attention of anything female within its mighty grasp.

And heaven only knew, she was far from immune to it.

But the devil would move his home to Antarctica before she ever let him know that.

"What on earth are you doing here?" Catherine asked as she finally found her voice.

"Needing a doctor," he said sardonically, shaking his left foot.

Catherine looked down to see the charred black leather in the bright, winter moonlight. A rush of embarrassment filled her.

"Why is it," he asked. "Every time we meet, I end up needing me a doctor?"

She lifted her chin at his playful tone. "Are you trying to charm me?"

Not even the dark could mask the wickedly warm look in his eyes. "And if I were?"

I’d probably end up surrendering to it.

But she had no intention of letting him know that either.  She couldn’t afford to let him break her heart again. The first time had been painful enough.

Instead, she sought to protect herself by putting an end to whatever thoughts might be playing through his mind.

"I’m not a girl anymore, Mr. O’Callahan. I no longer dance to your tune."

O’Connell took a deep breath as he sized her up. He’d almost forgotten his old alias. But the cold tone of her voice chilled him more than the winter wind at his back.

Still, it did nothing to daunt the fire in his gut that her presence stirred. She looked even better than he remembered. Gone was the willow thin frame of her youth and in its place were the luscious curves of a woman full grown.

She wore her hair in that tight bun he’d always despised. Catherine had such beautiful hair— long, thick and wavy. He, the man who was wanted in six states, had spent hours brushing her hair at night. Running his hands through it.

And he wondered if it still smelled like spring time.

In that instant, he remembered the way he had left her. Without a word, without a note. He had simply gone off to work and had never returned.

Shame filled him. He should have at least sent a letter. Although honestly, he had tried to write one numerous times. But he’d never completed it. What did a man say to a woman he’d been forced to give up against his will?

Especially when he didn’t want her to know the real reason he’d left?

Picking his hat up from the porch, he cast a sweeping, hungry look over her body. "It’s good to see you again."

Her look froze him as she untied her apron, then stooped to pick up the broken glass and place it in the cloth. "I wish I could say it’s good to be seen by you, but in this case I think you’ll understand if I’m a bit cool toward you?"

Cool was mild term for her demeanor. In truth, he suspected icebergs on the North Pole might be a shade or two warmer.

He’d expected more anger from her. The Catherine he remembered would have been cursing him like a slow walking dog for leaving her.

This Catherine was different.

"Where’s your anger?" he asked as he leaned over to help her pick up the mess.

Catherine considered her answer. She should be enraged at him, but oddly enough once the initial shock of the encounter wore off she found herself completely numb to him.

Well, not completely numb.

In fact, numb described his effect on her like handsome described Abe Lincoln.

A woman would have to be dead not to feel a vigorous stirring for a man so incredibly handsome. Especially a man possessed of such raw, primal appeal.

Everything about him promised sheer, sexual delights. And all too well she remembered the way he had felt in her arms, the strength of his long, lean body caressing hers in playful abandon as he sent her spiraling off into blissful ecstasy.

And right then with his head just inches from her own, she could smell the raw, earthy scent of him. That leather and musk that had always titillated her. That warm, wonderful smell was a part of him like the innate power and authority that bled from every pore of his body.

And those lips....

Full and sensuous, those lips of his had kissed her until she lost all reason, until her entire body buzzed with lust and desire. And those wonderful, sensual lips had teased and tormented her body to the ultimate pinnacle of human pleasure.

Good heavens, how she ached for him. Even after the way he had hurt her!

What are you thinking? Remember, you don’t dance to his tune anymore!

Catherine mentally shook herself. No, she didn’t hate him for leaving her the way he had— five years had given her time to lay her hatred aside.

She wouldn’t get mad at this point.

She would get even.

He deserved to feel the sting of rejection. Then he would understand exactly what he had done to her. How it felt to be denied and forgotten.

"I got over my anger for you, Mr. O’Callahan," she said tartly, rising to her feet. She took a step back into the house and spoke, "And then I got over you."

Catherine closed the door on his stunned face.