Haunted Warrior Read Free Page B

broad shoulders blocked out the strand and the bunker, narrowing her world to him. His scent was fatal. Heady and addictive, it invaded her senses, filling her mind with images that weren’t good for her.
    There was something terribly intoxicating about the blend of leather, brisk, cold air, and man.
    Any moment she was going to blush like a flame.
    She could feel the heat gearing up to burst onto her cheeks. A problem that escalated each time her gaze lit on his hands. They were large, long-­fingered, and beautifully made. She couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel gliding over her naked skin.
    She wasn’t about to look at his mouth. One glance at his wickedly sensuous lips had been enough. It’d been so long since she’d been properly kissed.
    This man would kiss like the devil, she knew.
    And no man had ever affected her so fast, or with a mere glance.
    He towered over her, his big, powerful body inches from hers. She could feel his warm breath on her face, teasing and tempting her. His nearness made her tingle. And his rich Scottish accent was melting her, wiping out every ounce of her good sense.
    She never mixed work and pleasure. Early tomorrow morning she’d embark on one of the most important assignments of her Ghostcatcher career. She’d require all her skill and sensitivity to settle the disgruntled spirits of a soon-­to-­be-­refurbished fishing village.
    Souls needed her.
    And she needed her wits. A good night’s sleep, spent alone and without complications.
    “So, you’re no’ a lassie, eh?” The Scotsman gave her a look that made her entire body heat.
    “I’m an American.” The excuse sounded ridiculous. “We don’t have lassies.”
    “Then beautiful women.” He touched her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
    Kendra’s pulse beat harder. Tiny shivers spilled through her, delicious and unsettling. “There are lots of gorgeous women in the States. Smart women who—­”
    “I meant you.” He stepped back, his withdrawal chilling the air. “Those other women aren’t here and dinnae matter. For whatever reason, you’ve found your way to Balmedie. It’d be a shame if aught happened to you here on your holiday.”
    “I can take care of myself.” She could still feel the warmth of his touch. The side of her face tingled, recalling his caress. “I’m not afraid of youths and their pranks.” She couldn’t believe her voice was so calm. “As you said, I’m American. Our big cities have places I’d bet even you wouldn’t go.”
    “Rowdy lads aren’t the only dangers hereabouts.” He glanced at the sea and then the dunes. Already higherthan any dunes she’d ever seen, they now also looked menacing. Deep shadows were beginning to creep down their red-­sanded slopes, and the wind-­tossed marram grass on their crests rustled almost ominously.
    “There are ruins here and there.” He turned back to her, holding her gaze. “Shells of ancient castles set about the marshlands beyond the dunes. Many locals believe some of those tumbled walls hold more than rubble and weeds. Ghosts are said to walk there and no’ all of them are benign.”
    Kendra bit back a smile. “Ghosts don’t scare me.”
    Ghosts were her business.
    And the discontented ones were, after all, her specialty.
    “Then perhaps you haven’t yet met a Scottish ghost?” The man’s voice was low and deep, perfectly earnest. “They can be daunting. You wouldn’t want to happen across one on a night of cold mist and rain, certainly not here at Balmedie in such dark weather.”
    “It isn’t raining.” Kendra felt the first icy drop as soon as the words left her mouth.
    “If you hurry, you’ll make it back to wherever you’re staying before the storm breaks.” His glance went past her, back toward the Donmouth estuary where she’d entered the strand. “I’d offer to drive you, but my car is probably farther away than your hotel.”
    “I don’t need a ride.” She wasn’t about to get in a