A Summer Smile by Iris Johansen Read Free Book Online Page A

something of a surprise to me."
    He didn't answer until they had reached the mouth of the cave. "Like I said, we'll keep it slow and easy. Right now I kind of like the idea of courting you." His grasp tightened on her waist. "Just don't try to shut me out entirely. I couldn't stand it after touching you. I'll do without the Roman candles, but a few firecrackers are required."
    She had an idea she would have a difficult time resisting the temptation to touch Daniel as well in the future. "Whatever you say," she said meekly.
    He snorted inelegantly. "As long as it's what you want too." His voice became unexpectedly grim. "Honesty, Zilah. There has to be absolute honesty between us. Tell me it's what you want too."
    "It's what I want too, Daniel," she said quietly. And it was, she realized with amazement. He had only to touch her and she wanted him so much that it shook her to her foundations. "It's exactly what I
    want."
    His arm tightened in a quick hug. "That's my girl." He released her and turned away. "Now, why don't you rummage in my backpack to find that clean shirt. I'll go and see what I can do about rustling up some shrubbery to cover the cave opening."
    Zilah watched him stride away in a state bordering on bemusement. He had stirred so many responses in her with his vibrant presence that now she felt suddenly cold and a little lost. She gave herself a shake and deliberately turned her eyes away from Daniel's lithe retreating back.
    He was a stranger, blast it. She couldn't possibly be so emotionally involved with a stranger. His dynamic vitality and bold, rakish charm had merely captured her imagination. His sexual attraction for her had caught her off guard and she mustn't mistake chemistry for something deeper. A man like Daniel must have eager women standing in line to crawl into his bed. How could she compete with them when she didn't even know if she could respond sexually to any man? Yet Daniel wasn't just any man. She had melted like a snowball tossed into a bonfire when he had touched her—that was the final healing, according to Dr. Melrose. He had been so coolly clin-ical when he had made his recommendation to respond freely if she ever did feel that flare of sexual attraction. The possibility had seemed so remote that she had listened indifferently at the time, but now... What if Daniel were offering her nothing but a physical rapport that might last only a few weeks? If he took from her, he might also be giving more than he could ever imagine. The final healing that would make her a whole woman at last. She dropped to her knees on the ground beside
    the backpack, her fingers fumbling at the straps. She instinctively shied away from the realization of what that   healing would bring. She wouldn't think, she would only feel while she was with Daniel. She would flow with the tide. She could rely on him to see that she wouldn't drown in that sea of emotion. There was a warm sensitivity beneath his surface hardness that she intuitively trusted.
    She swiftly shed the shirt Daniel had draped around her shoulders and slipped on the blue cotton workshirt from the backpack. It felt crisp and clean against her skin and smelled faintly of lime and tobacco. She rummaged through the backpack. There was bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth, a large battery-operated lantern together with a packet of extra batteries, a white undershirt, a box of ammunition for the rifle, a folded silver-coated sheet, a wicked-looking machete. In all, a very workmanlike, efficient emergency backpack. Like Daniel himself: Practical, lethal, and efficient.
    "Pass me that machete, will you?" Daniel asked from behind her. He unslung his rifle and handed it to her in exchange for the machete. "I've found a dead tree we can use. It will take only fifteen or twenty minutes to drag up enough branches to cover the opening."
    "May I help?"
    "No. you stay here." He turned back as a thought struck him. "Do you know how to use this rifle?"
    "I'm pretty