Made For Each Other Read Online Free PDF Page A

bikini panties and bra.
    Expecting to be assaulted, She watched
Nick through the sweep of her thick lashes, her heart beating in
roller-coaster dips. But he straightened from her and crossed to
the dresser to remove a faded blue woolen shirt. Before She could
move he began to slip it over her arms.
    “I can do that,” she said as his
supple fingers fastened each button.
    “True,” he acknowledged, continuing to
fasten the buttons, “but I can do it much quicker.”
    She found her breath suspended when he
knelt to reach the shirt’s hem that fell just above her knees and
his hands brushed her thighs. His dark head was so close she could
have reached out and run her fingers through the thick, lustrous
hair.
    “You’ve got great legs, Julie Dever,”
he rasped, his hand trailing the soft line of her thigh. Then his
lips compressed in a moody line, and he moved away. When he began
to shuck his own pants, She turned her head, her lids squeezed
shut. A few seconds later she felt the give of the mattress and the
warm, scratchy woolen blanket being drawn up over her. It seemed as
if hours stretched by while she held her breath, waiting for the
slightest movement in her direction. Actually only several minutes
passed before she heard the quiet, even tempo of Nick’s
breathing.
    Reassured, she slipped into a deeply
needed sleep, awakening only once during the night when Nick
brought her another pain pill. In the darkness she could barely
make out his face above hers as he tilted the water glass to her
lips. She was vividly aware of his body, so powerfully virile,
stretched only inches away from her. Obediently she swallowed the
pill. “Thank you,” she whispered.
    It would be so easy to fall in love
with Nicholas Raffer, she thought sleepily. Wasn’t that what all
captives did—transfer their affection to their captors, or some
wildly insane reaction like that? But Nick was not actually her
captor, he was not holding her there against her will.
    Yet he was a wealthy senator, and she
was only a small-town girl, a free-lance reporter who never knew
where her next dollar was coming from. And he had hated her before
the two of them had even met. So the idea of her becoming
infatuated with the man was absolutely absurd, her mind
whispered—even as her body nestled closer against the broad chest,
seeking the warmth of Nick’s sinewy length.
     
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    T he mournful shriek of the wind, the insistent pelting of the
snow against the bedroom win-dow, aroused her from a deep sleep.
She lay there in her snug cave of blankets, orienting herself. A
slow blush suffused her suntanned skin as she vaguely recalled
Nick’s hard, warm body that she had cuddled against sometime during
the night and the muscle- corded arms that had enfolded her and
held her throughout the early-morning hours.
    When she found her imagination vividly
conjuring up pictures of Nick’s dusky hands caressing the intimate
curves and valleys of her body, she mentally chastised herself. To
surrender to Nick’s passion would be the most foolish thing she
could do, because for him it would only be a casual fling. And for
her—for her, she was afraid, it would be something much
more.
    She was glad that Nick was already up
and gone, probably hunting again. She forced herself to get out of
the warm bed, cringing at tboth the pain and the cold hardwood
floor beneath her bare feet. Now that it was Monday morning, she
could telephone the wrecking yard that had towed away her car and
see about getting it repaired before the day was out. And then she
had to check on Pam. If luck allowed, the doctor might discharge
her friend in time for them to drive on to Santa Fe.
    But the room’s refrigeratorlike cold
demanded she first stoke the fire. She padded into the living room,
her arms wrapped about her. She poked at the dying fire, thinking
how nice it would be to have a bath. What had it been, two days
since she had last bathed? She probably smelled worse