Deep in the Heart by Sharon Sala Read Free Book Online Page A

the faint, sweet odors of dogwood and honeysuckle. They had grown outside the bedroom window at her home in Cotton when she was a child, when Johnny Knight had been the Alpha and Omega of her world.
    “Come on, Sam. We’re both dead tired. There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow to look around. Right now the only thing I want to see is the underside of my pillow.”
    She let him lead her across the darkened yard and up onto the porch, then stood aside while he fumbled in the lack of light, trying to get the key in the hole.
    “Can’t you get it in?” she asked sleepily.
    He stopped, his hand suspended in midair, and thanked God for the anonymity of night. What she’d asked had instantly imprinted another set of images into his mind, and it had nothing to do with keys and keyholes.
    “Oh, I’ve got pretty good aim. Eventually, I get it right. I’ve had some practice since we…” His voice ended on a harsh grunt.
    As sleepy as she was, Samantha heard the pain in his voice and wondered where it had come from. He was the one who’d scored the hit and run. He was the one who hadn’t written or called.
    “I don’t need a reminder of what we once shared, Johnny, and you’d do well to remember it. I’m not some floozy you’re bringing home. I’m thirty-one years old, and you damn well know it.”
    John Thomas frowned. Her anger seemed out of place. She was the one who’d sent back a drawerful of unopened letters. But this wasn’t the time to discuss who was to blame. There was more at stake here than the old history between them.
    He jammed the key into the keyhole and turned it with a vicious twist. The door swung open as he reached inside and flipped a switch, instantly shedding all kinds of light onto the situation.
    He cupped her elbow and guided her into the house, then turned and locked the door. Wordlessly, he picked up her bag and headed toward the back of the house, expecting her to follow. She did.
    The door to the spare bedroom swung open silently as he flipped on another light.
    “Bath’s down the hall. We’ll have to share.”
    Without waiting for a response, he walked across the room and opened the window beside her bed. Fresh air slipped surreptitiously inside.
    “Got everything you need?” he asked quietly.
    She nodded, feeling suddenly shy in front of the big, solemn-eyed man.
    He started out the door and then stopped and turned.
    “Sam.”
    She looked up.
    “I’m only going to say this once. What happened between us was a long time ago, but it was mutual. You don’t need to feel threatened by me, or afraid of being here alone with me. No matter what else you may think, I wouldn’t take advantage of you or the situation. I like my women willing. So go to sleep.”
    Her heart thumped once as he closed the door behind him, and then settled down into a regular rhythm. Willing? Once she hadn’t been any other way. But she was too weary to bother about sorting out her mixed feelings. There would be time enough to go through those later.
    She unearthed an extra large T-shirt that had faithfully served as her favorite item of sleepwear for the last five years, and quickly traded it for what she was wearing, then sat on the bed and listened to the sounds of water running in the bath at the end of the hall.
    After Johnny’s footsteps had silenced and he’d entered the room opposite hers, she ventured out and down the shadowy hallway, smiling to herself at the thoughtfulness of a man who would leave a light on in the bathroom for a house guest unfamiliar with the territory. It didn’t take long to do what she had to do, then sluice a little water on her weary body.
    As she buried her face in the towel by the sink, intent on drying what was left of her quickie cleanup, she inhaled the faint but lingering scent of his shaving cream.
    Instead of drying her face, she found herself moving the towel all across her neck, and then down her arms, and across her body in a slow, thoughtful motion.
    Minutes