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.No use borrowing trouble," he continued, kneading the muscles of her back."We've got plenty of our own.In a couple hours, we'll clean up, go out and cruise around, try to call Grace.""Okay." She pulled in the emotion, tucked it into a corner."Maybe—" "Did you run track in college?""Huh?"The sudden change of subject accomplished just what he'd wanted it to.It distracted her from worry."Did you run track? You've got the build for it, and the speed.""Yeah, actually, I was a miler.I never liked relays.I'm not much of a team player.""A miler, huh?" He rolled her over and, smiling, traced a fingertip over the curve of her breast."You gotta have endurance."Her brows lifted into her choppy bangs."That's true.""Stamina." He straddled her."Absolutely."He lowered his head, toyed with her lips."And you have to know how to pace yourself, so you've got wind for that final kick.""You bet.""That's handy." He bit her earlobe."Because I'm planning on pacing myself this time.You know the saying, M.J.? The one about slow and steady winning the race?""I think I've heard of it.""Why don't we test it out?" he suggested, and captured her mouth with his.This time she slept, as he'd hoped she would.Facedown again, he mused, studying her, cross-ways over the bed.He stroked her hair.He couldn't seem to touch her enough, and couldn't remember ever having this need to touch before.Just a brush on the shoulder, the link of fingers.He was afraid it was ridiculously sentimental, and was grateful she was asleep.A man with a reputation for being tough and cynical didn't care to be observed mooning like a puppy over a sleeping woman.He wanted to make love with her again.That, at least, was understandable.To lose himself in sex—the hot, sweaty kind, or the slow and sweet kind.She'd turn to him, he knew, if he asked.He could wake her now, arouse her before her mind cleared.She'd open for him, take him in, ride with him.But she needed to sleep.There were shadows under her eyes—those dark, witchy green eyes.And when the flush of passion faded from her skin, her cheeks had been pale with fatigue.Sharp-boned cheeks, defined by a curve of silky skin.He pressed his fingers to his eyes.Listen to him, he thought.The next thing he knew, he'd be composing odes or something equally mortifying.So he nudged her over, made himself comfortable.He'd sleep for an hour, he thought, setting his internal clock.Then they would step back into reality.He closed his eyes, shut down.M.J.woke to the sound of rain.It reminded her of lazy mornings, summer showers.Snuggling into the pillow, shifting from dream to dream.She did so now, sliding back into sleep.The horse leaped over the narrow stream, where shallow water flashed blue.Her heart leaped with it, and she clutched the man tighter.Smelled leather and sweat.Around them, buttes rose like pale soldiers into a sky fired by a huge white sun.The heat was immense.He was in black, but it wasn't her knight.The face was the same—Jack's face—but it was shadowed under a wide-brimmed black hat.A gun belt rode low on his hips, instead of a silver sword.The empty land stretched before them, wide as the sea, with waves of rocks, sharp-edged as honed knives.One misstep, and the ground would be stained with their blood.But he rode fearlessly on, and she felt nothing but the power and excitement of the speed.When he reined in, turned in the saddle, she poured herself into his arms, met those hard, demanding lips eagerly with her own.She offered him the stone that beat with light and a fire as blue as the hottest flame."It belongs with the others.Love needs knowledge, and both need generosity." He took it from her, secured it in the pocket over his heart."One finds the other.Both find the third." His eyes lit."And you belong to me."In the shadow of a rock, the snake uncoiled, hissed out its warning.Struck.M.J.shot up in bed, a scream strangled in her throat.Both hands pressed to her racing heart.She swayed, still caught in the dream fall.The snake, she thought with a shudder.A snake with the eyes of a man.Lord.She concentrated on steadying her breathing, controlling the tremors, and wondered why her dreams were suddenly so clear, so real and so odd.Rather than stretch out again, she found a T-shirt—Jack's—and slipped it on.Her mind was still fuzzy, so it took her a moment to realize it wasn't rain she was hearing, but the shower.And that alone—knowing he was just on the other side of the door—chased away the last remnants of fear.She might be a woman whose pride was based on being able to handle herself in any situation.But she'd never faced one quite like this.It helped to know there was someone who would stand with her.And he would.She smiled and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.He wouldn't back down, he wouldn't turn away.He would stick.And he would face with her whatever beasts were in the brush, whatever snakes there were in the shadows.She rose, raking both hands through her hair, just as the bathroom door opened.He stepped out, a billow of steam following [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]