Seduction by the Book Read Free Page A

how different Annie was from any woman in his experience.
    But he couldn’t let her touch him. Not while he wasso vulnerable today. He had to find a way to push her away, make her leave him alone.
    â€œAll right. You go ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” he said in his most demanding voice.
    She screwed up her wide, full mouth in a frown for a second. But then she swung around and took a couple of steps toward the house before turning back to make sure he was following.
    He started out, but soon realized that he’d made a huge mistake. He should’ve taken the lead. That way he wouldn’t be stuck walking behind her and admiring the way she looked as she swung her hips in those sexy, too-short white shorts.
    Even in the dull light of the prestorm sky, Annie was radiant and energetic enough to make him forget his vows of celibacy since his wife’s death. She made him think instead of how he would dearly love to run his fingers through that mass of fiery red curls. Or to place his lips against the adorable rusty freckles that spattered across her nose like paint spills.
    Her energy snapped about her as if she were static electricity during a thunderstorm. He found himself nearly drooling at the thought of capturing her to him and tasting all that vividness.
    Instead, he fisted his hands and stuck them in his pockets. Concentrating on what hurricane preparations might be left to attend to and on how ferocious the storm might actually become, he vowed to keep his growing lust a secret.
    He’d always thought that sex was a sacred trust. One best shared only once in a lifetime and mostly for procreation. Fidelity and honor meant more than mere bodily urges. And he would not betray Christina’s memory by jumping the first woman that had turned him on since her death.
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    Annie stirred the stockpot on the range as she heard the first tinkling sounds of rain against the shuttered windows. Before he left for the mainland, the chef had given her instructions for keeping herself and Nick fed during the storm and its aftermath.
    The freezer was stocked with things that could be defrosted and heated up on the outdoor barbeque grill after the storm. She was making a big pot of her mother’s Irish stew that could be reheated on a small propane gas stove during the storm if the island’s electricity went out.
    Annie could hear Nick in the other parts of house as he rummaged around, locating kerosene lamps, flashlights and candles. She didn’t worry about his physical ability to move through the house anymore. Not like she had when she’d first come and he’d been so unsteady on his injured knee.
    It had taken all her knowledge of anatomic kinesiology and experience with physical conditioning in people with limited mobility to help him reestablish the strength in his legs. And then, of course, there had been the whole problem of motivation. Every time she’d pushed him a little further than the time before, he’d blazed with anger and backed away from her, almost as if her touch had somehow burned him.
    Lately, the tension in the air between them was thick enough to make her more nervous than she liked to admit.
    â€œWould you care to join me in a cup of tea?”
    The sound of his voice startled her and she dropped the spoon into the stew pot. “Darn. You surprised me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
    He reached for a pair of tongs from the round carousel that held kitchen utensils. “Sorry.” Dipping the tongs in the stew, he retrieved the spoon, wiped it off with a towel and handed it back to her with a polite bow. “Here you are, mademoiselle. No harm done.”
    â€œPretty slick, Nick, and how very European of you. I didn’t realize you were so familiar with a kitchen. I just imagined you’d always had a chef and would barely be able to find the kitchen, let alone know where things were kept in one.”
    â€œDon’t tell