Taming Natasha by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

want.” The fact that he was nearly out of gas and his muffler was currently held on by a coat hanger didn’t enter his mind.
    She favored him with an absent smile that had his heart doing a cha-cha. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t live far.”
    She hoped to breeze out of the classroom while Spence was still occupied. She should have known better.
    He simply put a hand on her arm and stopped her. “I’d like to speak with you a moment, Natasha.”
    â€œI’m in a hurry.”
    â€œIt won’t take long.” He nodded to the last of his departing students, then eased back against his desk and grinned at her. “I should have paid more attention to my roster, but then again, it’s nice to know there are still surprises in the world.”
    â€œThat depends on your point of view, Dr. Kimball.”
    â€œSpence.” He continued to grin. “Class is over.”
    â€œSo it is.” Her regal nod made him think again of Russian royalty. “Excuse me.”
    â€œNatasha.” He waited, almost seeing impatience shimmer around her as she turned. “I can’t imagine that someone with your heritage doesn’t believe in destiny.”
    â€œDestiny?”
    â€œOf all the classrooms in all the universities in all the world, she walks into mine.”
    She wouldn’t laugh. She’d be damned if she would. But her mouth quirked up at the corners before she controlled it. “And here I was thinking it was just bad luck.”
    â€œWhy Music History?”
    She balanced her notebook on her hip. “It was a toss-up between that and Astronomy.”
    â€œThat sounds like a fascinating story. Why don’t we go down the street for a cup of coffee? You can tell me about it.” Now he saw it—molten fury that turned her eyes from rich velvet to sharp jet. “Now why does that infuriate you?” he inquired, almost to himself. “Is an offer of a cup of coffee in this town similiar to an illicit proposition?”
    â€œYou should know, Dr. Kimball.” She turned, but he reached the door before her, slamming it with enough force to make her step back. He was every bit as angry as herself, she noted. Not that it mattered. It was only that he had seemed a mild sort of man. Detestable, but mild. There was nothing mild about him now. Those fascinating bones and angles in his face might have been carved of stone.
    â€œClarify.”
    â€œOpen the door.”
    â€œGladly. After you answer my question.” He was angry. Spence realized he hadn’t felt this kind of hot, blood-pumping rage in years. It felt wonderful. “I realize that just because I’m attracted to you doesn’t mean you have to return the favor.”
    She threw up her chin, hating herself for finding the storm-cloud-gray eyes so hypnotic. “I don’t.”
    â€œFine.” He couldn’t strangle her for that, however much he’d like to. “But, damn it, I want to know why you aim and fire every time I’m around you.”
    â€œBecause men like you deserve to be shot.”
    â€œMen like me,” he repeated, measuring out the words. “What exactly does that mean?”
    He was standing close, all but looming over her. As in the shop when he had brushed up against her, she felt those bubble bursts of excitement, attraction, confusion. It was more than enough to push her over the edge.
    â€œDo you think because you have a nice face and a pretty smile you can do whatever you like? Yes, ” she answered before he could speakand slapped her notebook against his chest. “You think you have only to snap your fingers.” She demonstrated dramatically. “And a woman will fall into your arms. Not this woman.”
    Her accent thickened when she was on a roll, he noted, somewhat baffled by her claim. “I don’t recall snapping my fingers.”
    She let loose one short, explicit Ukrainian oath and