wrong, Mr. Dundee, are you afraid to kiss me?'
With one hand, he tightened his hold around her waist, and with the other he grasped her chin. 'All right, if you're sure it's what you want. Just remember that it doesn't mean anything. I've kissed a hundred women before you, and will probably kiss a hundred more before I die.'
'Then I expect you're very good at this, at kissing, aren't you?'
Her eyelids fluttered. She clutched his arms. Drawing her up against him, Sam slipped his hand under the wavy fall of her hair and gripped her neck. His heartbeat roared in his ears like the hum of his Cessna's twin engines.
A steady, throbbing ache spread through him, threatening to overpower his restraint. When he lowered his head, his lips just making contact with hers, she seemed to melt into him, to become a part of him. He felt her surrender, her eager compliance, in every cell of his body.
Of all the women he'd known, all the pretty faces, all the luscious bodies, not one had ever sent him into a panic. But then, he had never wanted anyone the way he wanted Jeannie. And it was that need, that raging, all- consuming need, that frightened the intrepid Sam Dundee.
'I'm no good for you,' he warned her. Or was he warning himself? 'So don't let this kiss give you any ideas.'
Slipping her arms around his neck, she closed her eyes and welcomed his kiss. Her soft, sweet, giving lips met his. Innocent and untutored, she gave herself over completely to his mastery, absorbing the undeniable pleasure he was experiencing, realizing that she felt their shared enjoyment in the kiss.
Opening her mouth on a sigh, Jeannie accepted the tender thrust of his tongue, the sensual probing. Her body tingled with excitement. A slow, steady throb of desire began to build inside her.
Sam deepened the kiss. He cupped her buttocks, shifting her body, lifting her up and into him, so that his arousal pulsated against her femininity. She moaned loudly, then slid her tongue inside his mouth, exploring him the way he had her. He ached. She ached even more. He groaned deep in his throat, the power of Jeannie's nearness rendering him helpless against his own masculine needs.
Jeannie cried out from the hot, pounding hunger and demanding desire raging inside her. Sam's hunger. Her desire. She felt them both, and felt them simultaneously.
She scratched his back, her short, rounded nails clawing fiercely at his cashmere jacket. Her body undulated against his, feeding his hunger, fanning the flames of her desire. She was on fire with their combined passion, and was no longer in control of her actions. Sam's needs dictated hers. The greater his desire was for her, the more she desired him.
She overpowered him with the fervor of her response, momentarily stunning him. Slowly ending the kiss, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the sitting room and directly toward her bed, then lowered her on top of the quilted pink coverlet. Her arms still draped around his neck, she pulled him downward. With his lips almost touching hers, he braced his hands on each side of her.
He had never expected her to go wild in his arms, had never imagined that sweet, innocent Jeannie possessed the power to bring him to his knees with nothing more than a smoldering kiss.
He looked down at her face, flushed with arousal, her lips red, damp and slightly swollen. 'Jeannie?' He wanted to take her and make her his. He wanted to remove her clothes and cover her naked body with his own. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and find the ecstasy he knew awaited them. But he could not, would not, take advantage of her. He sensed that she had never before felt this way, that she was experiencing sexual desire for the first time in her life.
Suddenly the truth hit him, like a bullet between the eyes.
This really
'Sam? Is it … is it always like this?' Was it possible that what they were feeling was what normally took place when a man and a woman shared a passionate kiss?
'You can feel what I'm feeling, can't you?' Suddenly he pulled away from her, easing her arms from around his neck as he stood up beside the bed. 'Your empathic powers obviously include sharing your partner's arousal.'
Jeannie sat up on the bed, looking at Sam, a mixture of wonder and uncertainty in her eyes. 'Does it bother you that I—'
'That you're not only inside my head, but my body, as well, when I'm making love to you? Yeah, it bothers me. You actually felt everything I felt!' Sam loosened his tie, then ripped it off his neck and clutched it in his big hand.
She had not only known how much he wanted her and how out of control he'd been, but had felt those exact same emotions. But how could that be?
Jeannie Alverson really was an empath, Sam admitted to himself. To what degree, he wasn't sure, but he knew for certain that she'd somehow felt exactly what he had felt.
'You sensed what I was feeling, too, didn't you?' she asked, scooting slowly toward the edge of the bed. 'Has that ever happened to you?'
'Hell, no! And it didn't happen this time, either.' Sam crammed his silk tie into his pocket. 'When I have sex with a woman, the only way I know what she's feeling is in the way she responds. And no woman has ever been able to experience what I'm feeling.'
Jeannie slid her legs over the side of the bed. Sam stepped out of her reach. 'Then what just happened between us was very special, wasn't it?'
'All we did was kiss!' Sam raked his hand through his hair, disheveling it.
She held out her hand to him, bidding him to come to her. 'Yes, all we did was kiss.'
He stared at her hand. Small, soft, delicate. Did he have the courage to accept what she was offering? All Sam had ever wanted, all he'd ever expected, from a woman was a mutually satisfying, uncommitted relationship.
Jeannie Alverson was a forever kind of woman, a woman who'd want to know everything about a man, a woman who'd want to save his soul.
'I'm in your life again because I want to repay a debt,' Sam said. 'I'm not here because I want anything from you. I don't want your healing. I don't want your sympathy. And I sure as hell don't want your love.'
'You're afraid of me.' Her voice held a breathless tremor. 'You don't want to share yourself with anyone. You think you deserve to be unhappy and alone for the rest of your life. You see it as your punishment. And you're afraid I have the power to change all that.'
'I told you that I'm no good for you. I am the wrong man for you. You deserve—'
'I deserve a man who will truly love me.'
'That man isn't me. Not now. Not ever.'
Tilting her chin defiantly, Jeannie looked directly at Sam, her bottom lip quivering slightly. Sam glared at her, wishing he'd never kissed her, wishing he wasn't obligated to stay in Biloxi and guard her.
Several sharp taps on the door snapped Jeannie and Sam out of their silent confrontation. Ollie rushed into the room, oblivious to Jeannie's position on the bed. 'You gotta come downstairs right now, Mr. Dundee. And hurry!'
'What's wrong, Ollie? You're white as a sheet,' Jeannie said.
'I found a package on the front porch. It's a small brown-paper-wrapped package. I don't know where it came from, but it's addressed to Jeannie.'
'No one delivered the package?' Sam asked. 'You just found it lying on the porch?'
'It could be a present for her, you know.' Ollie wrung her hands together. 'But what if it's… I mean, there could be something dangerous inside. A snake, or a—'
'A bomb,' Jeannie said.
Ollie gasped.
'Where did you put the package?' Sam asked.
'Where did I—? I didn't put it anywhere. I left the thing on the porch.'
'Good girl.' Sam patted Ollie on the back. 'You stay up here with Jeannie. I'll go take a look at our little gift.'
Jeannie called out to him. 'Sam?'
Halting in the doorway, he turned and looked at her.
