Slow Fever by Cait London Read Free Book Online Page B

arms.
    “Not with you,” she said firmly, warily, with lips that he now knew were soft and tender and evidence of a very warm, responsive woman.
    That annoying wisp of tenderness curled through him, followed by the dark knowledge that every single male in Freedom Valley couldn’t wait to court Kylie. Added to her curvaceous, fit and admittedly sensually deprived body, she was perfect wife material—sweet, caring, a natural homemaker and a loyal, supportive friend, and she’d want a home and a family.
    Wife. The word echoed coldly around him. With his family’s dysfunctional background, Michael wasn’t made for the matching role of the homey picture—the husband, the father. Kylie deserved the whole picture and a man who knew how to fill his role.
    “Okay.” He nodded and released her. He ran his fingertip down her hot cheek and cherished the slight quiver of her lips as he stared at them. He took one last taste of those softly parted lips and caught her startled sigh into his mouth. Just there was her immediate warm response surging and hungry. He held the kiss a bit longer to convince himself the taste of hunger ruled her, too, just as it thundered through his blood.
    Then he stepped back, signaled for his jacket and caught it when thrown to him. He walked out of the tavern as if Kylie’s kiss weren’t burning his lips. He forced himself to drive home, but once in the driveway, he sat quietly, stunned by the need to court and cherish Kylie and make her his bride. He’d never been a dreamer, wishing for things he couldn’t have, and Kylie wasn’t on his life goals list—a measure of peace was, living alone, helping the women who needed him. Anna had always said his time wouldcome, but Michael never suspected it would be Kylie, or that his desperate need for a woman would become a reality.
    Kylie needed time to deal with the aftereffects of her divorce. She needed a good solid man like her brother and the other men in Freedom Valley, who cherished and courted their brides. Michael knew little about what ran between a man and a woman, how to keep it safe and warm and glowing. But he’d seen it with Paul and Anna Bennett, and Kylie deserved the same care in a relationship.
    Michael rubbed his hand along his jaw and the scraping sound reminded him of how he must have looked to her—tough, tired and wanting to lift her up in his arms and carry her out into the night.
    A throbbing headache lurked at his temples. He wasn’t the man for Kylie Bennett Patton, all-American sweetheart, a woman meant for traditional courtship. In Freedom Valley, according to custom, that meant that she’d be doing the courting and pacing the relationship. She’d be asking for dates and the trial marriage in which they lived together and the Committee for the Welfare of Brides would visit the home and—Michael heard his groan echo as he entered his empty, shadowed house. He checked the security locks, punched the message machine button and listened to Karolina’s furious recorded threat. “Don’t you think you can jump my friend, Fast Hands Cusack. She’s not going to be one of your women.”
    “Thank you, Karolina. As if I needed that reminder.” Michael smiled slowly when the messages continued. His stock broker had heard of a good investment and Mrs. Morley had decided her breaker box wasn’t working. Mrs. Morley was lonely and loved company and Michael always obliged her calls, though there was no electrical problem.
    Whatever Karolina’s opinion of him, he’d always likedher. He infuriated Karolina on another level—her “Super Snoop” powers couldn’t delve into a life he wanted to remain very private.
    He’d always preferred privacy, using it as a shield. In contrast, Kylie was a whirlwind, diving into life, loving it.
    He could taste more on Kylie’s lips than sensual need—he could taste a future that wasn’t meant for him, and that knowledge terrified him…because he could hurt her.
     
    The next night,