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down her neck. His body covered hers, a glorious comfortable weight pressing her into the mattress. She sucked in a harsh breath, speared her fingers in his hair. Passion, unleashed, controlled her. She welcomed it, reveled in it. He made her feel wanted, needed—everything that made her whole. She arched, offering him easier access and his mouth slid, tongue licking, along the curve of her neck to her shoulder.

    He tugged her T-shirt from the waistband of her jeans. Fast and lethal, his hands streaked under her shirt to cup her straining breasts. Blood rushed to her head. A low moan shuddered from her throat. His fingers teased her nipples, his thumbs flicking the hard peaks.

    “Mommy?” Stacy’s hesitant plea doused passion like ice water poured on a fire.

    Laurie froze. Damien jerked back from her. She felt almost abandoned and wished, just for a selfish instant, that Stacy had been asleep downstairs. Cool air blew across her stomach and she guiltily tugged her shirt down and looked at her daughter. Stacy stared at her and Damien, ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
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    her green eyes wide with fear and confusion. Throbbing with unappeased hunger, Laurie let out a fragmented breath. Damien jumped from the bed with a frustrated groan. Laurie felt his withdrawal like a slap in the face.

    “I heard a noise under the stairs,” Stacy whined. “What is it?”

    “Damn,” Damien muttered as he strode across the wood plank floor. He glanced over his shoulder, his face an impenetrable mask. “I apologize.” He disappeared down the stairs.

    That emotional retreat hit her harder than his leap from her bed. It carried the sting of rejection. Inwardly cursing herself, Laurie made no effort to explain to Stacy what she had interrupted. Stacy climbed into her lap and clung. Laurie rocked her gently, murmuring soothing nonsense as she took her own comfort in her daughter’s unconditional love.

    Downstairs several minutes later, Laurie stared out the window. Stacy was sprawled on the floor with crayons and coloring books. Laurie made a valiant effort to banish desire, though she knew in her heart it was a hopeless task. Restless, she prowled the cabin. Noting the time, well past three in the afternoon, she started an early dinner to keep herself busy. But her sensual attack on her ‘bodyguard’ played in her mind like a film loop. Her skin burned for his touch. Her nipples hardened at just the thought of his mouth. She shook her head firmly but the images stayed in her mind. She wanted him—desperately.

    She was setting the table when Damien emerged from a small hidden room under the stairs. It was obviously where he kept the radio. She forced herself not to question him. It could only be bad news and she couldn’t take any more. Her gaze followed his every tense move as he prowled the room. So nervous she wanted to throw a dish at him, she just clenched her teeth and finished cooking dinner.

    “Laurie,” he finally called from across the room.

    She flinched and turned slowly from the stove. He stood next to end of the sofa, his gaze rooted squarely but impersonally on her. “We’ll talk after dinner.”

    The only sound during dinner was Stacy’s chatter. Laurie often found herself watching Damien, the afternoon’s passion uppermost in her mind. Memories played havoc on her imagination and her senses. Strictly physical , she reminded herself firmly. She had lost her mind for a little while under the emotional storm of the situation, but she could easily get over a strong physical attraction if she did not give in to temptation again.

    She shot a surreptitious glance at Damien across the table and caught him staring at her.
    Her stomach fluttered and she swallowed hard. Passion smoldered in his dark eyes. She wondered briefly how things might have progressed had they met under different, more normal, circumstances. A wistful sigh escaped her and she banished the notion. Wishing was useless.
    Things were not