Snowbound Heart Read Free Page B

“but the outrage is just a bit overdone, and you forgot to accuse me of conceit.”
    “I was just coming to that,” Clare retorted, her gray eyes stormy.
    “I’m sure you were, and it might be a good idea to throw in another insult or two for good measure. You must not, under any circumstances, show that I have any attraction for you. That would be as good as admitting your guilt.” As he spoke, he stepped closer. Placing his hand on the refrigerator door, he drew it gently from her grasp and let it fall shut.
    “There is no danger of that,” Clare said with a lift of her chin. She got no further. Before she could move, before she could even guess his intention, he reached out with sure strength and pulled her against him. His blue gaze, narrowed in speculation, held her for an instant, and then his mouth came down on hers. Shock held her motionless under the burning pressure, and then, as she recognized the leashed contempt and deliberate testing of her weakness that drove him, she brought up her hands and pushed him from her.
    He released her and stepped back. Surveying her flushed face and tight-pressed lips, he lifted an eyebrow. “Score another point in your favor. I could almost believe you neither expected nor wanted that.”
    Clare drew a deep, trembling breath. “Of all the arrogant, self-satisfied men I have ever met, you are the worst!”
    “Self-satisfied? I think there is a distinction between the attraction I might have as a man and the fascination women like you find in big-name entertainers. Whatever it is that has brought you here has more to do with the publicity department of the movie studio than it does with me. I fail to see why you think that would give me any satisfaction.”
    Logan Longcross had no monopoly on sarcasm. Clare allowed herself to smile. “Next you will be saying your star image is a burden that you never wanted.”
    “That’s right,” he said, his voice hard. “I wanted to be good at my job, to move people to laughter or to tears, to make them think. I wanted respect, not this overblown glorification.” Abruptly a tight, controlled look descended over his features. “Never mind. If you want to pretend to be a young woman thrown into my company for a night through misfortune, then that is the way we will play it. It won’t make any difference in the long run.”
    “I promise you this is no game for me,” Clare said.
    “No, of course not,” he agreed, his voice much too grave. “You may as well take off your coat too and be comfortable. Here, let me turn the light on for you. You will be surprised how much easier it is to make youself at home if you can see what you are doing.”
    In the process of shrugging out of his insulated jacket, he swung toward the light switch on the far wall. His sleeve caught the strap of Clare’s canvas tote she had left sitting on the end of the counter, and sent it toppling toward the floor. Even as it fell, he swung with lightning reflexes to catch it. Only the sheaf of tear sheets Clare had pushed into the side pocket for Beverly spilled out, fluttering to the floor.
    With a muffled oath Logan flipped on the light, then bent to retrieve her papers. He straightened with them in his hand, turning as though he meant to pass them over as she stepped toward. Her fingers had closed on them when his grip suddenly tightened.
    “Who,” he asked softly, his gaze on her by-line, “is Clare Thornton?”
    “I am,” Clare answered, made wary by something in his manner, despite the quiet, even timbre of his voice.
    “At least there is something you will admit”
    As Clare met his eyes, she caught her breath at the temper she saw blazing in their bright blue depths. “I am a freelance writer, if that is what you mean.”
    “A freelance with ambition, or so it seems. I believe I owe you an apology. You were telling the truth when you said you were no fan of mine. Your purpose in coming here was not nearly so straightforward. Tell me, what