i 077f700896a1d224 Read Online Free PDF Page B

ties in New
    York.
    He could be capable of anything.
    Forty minutes later, after a dash to the bathroom for a stealthy shower, Kirstie dressed in
    shorts and a light blouse, gritted her teeth and marched outside. In the face of whatever
    that man chose to hurl at her, she would indeed be reasonable and rational. She would
    refuse to let the situation get her down. Above all, she would refuse to let him get at her.
    No matter what.
    All her grim preoccupation fell away in the face of what was outside.
    Francis was at the wood-pile, at one end of the clearing. He was chopping wood. The
    rhythm of it echoed in sharp reports off the lake. The Vermont sun beat down on his
    black head, making it shine, and rivulets of sweat slithered down his naked torso. The
    helicopter sat, gleaming pristine and silent, not twenty yards away from him, and the
    door of the cabin was in plain sight. Already there was a sizeable pile of split logs beside
    him, yet he still reached for another one to set on the scarred oak stump.
    Kirstie let out a long breath, only then realising that she had held it in anxious
    anticipation as she'd left the sanctuary of her bedroom. The sound of the cabin door
    shutting had attracted his attention. With the axe held poised negligently in one hand, his
    sleek head turned to her, he looked as if he considered the point between her two
    shoulders a favourable spot in which to bury the blade. It was an aggressive pose,
    saturated with sheer male beauty. Kirstie frowned at her reaction to it before walking
    around the corner of the cabin.
    The sound of running footsteps dogged her. She set her teeth in furious impatience at the
    way her pulse went crazy. Francis appeared around the corner, jogging lightly, one of
    Paul's spare T-shirts pulled on in haste.
    'Where are you going?' he asked.
    'Nowhere with you,' she told him tightly.
    He pulled to a graceful stop. The hot sun lent an odd golden tint to his green eyes. It
    didn't seem quite human. She shook her head and backed away skittishly. 'If you
    continue to grind your teeth like that you'll have problems later on in life,' he
    admonished, holding his two great arms across that barrel chest. Her eyes riveted
    themselves on the amount of muscle, so casually bunched. 'You wouldn't be thinking
    about using that helicopter radio without me, would you?'
    'I don't need the radio.' She sent him a small, unfriendly smile and turned away only to
    stop with her hands clenched at her sides when he fell into stride beside her. 'Stop
    following me. I am going for a peaceful walk. You can't come.'
    'More to the point, can you stop me?' he replied lightly, sliding his gaze down the shape
    of her bare legs. Still sweating from the heat of his earlier exertion, Francis's chest
    heaved once. The T-shirt clung to his damp skin in a maddening fashion.
    The thin control Kirstie had over herself stretched and broke. She breathed deep once,
    fast, and burst out, 'I can sure as hell not go, you rotten bastard!'
    'Why do you persist in seeing me as the villain of the piece?' he demanded, his
    expression changing drastically. 'I don't have to take this from you! I'm the injured party
    here!'
    They stared at each other, and Kirstie could see a degree of her own amazement
    reflected in Francis's eyes. So neither of them had the control they would have wished
    for. Unable to think of anything to say to him, she just turned and started to walk away.
    One of his heavy hands curled around her shoulder to detain her, and Kirstie shrank
    from his touch in an instinctive flinch as he made her face him again.
    Francis's eyes widened at her unmistakable fear and his hand fell away. He averted his
    face and sighed. 'Don't you think it's past time we talked?'
    Two lines that had not existed a week ago ran from her nostrils to the sides of her mouth.
    'Going to try the reasoning tack?' she asked, ignoring her own earlier resolve to stay
    unresponsive and uninvolved. 'What do we get after that, threats? When