Made For Each Other Read Online Free PDF Page B

blanket around her and
watched with tight lips as Nick prepared bacon sandwiches. It was
all she could do to mutter a polite “Thank you” when he brought her
a sandwich and a glass of milk.
    He slumped down into the easy chair
across the room with his own plate, and she watched from beneath
lowered lashes as he ate his sandwich in moody silence. For the
first time she noted the lines of fatigue around the finely carved
lips and at either side of the sensually flaring nostrils. And
there were sun-squint lines at the outer corners of his eyes that
she had never noticed. No wonder he was tired. For two days he had
been getting up at dawn to hunt, then waiting on her the rest of
the day.
    When next she cast a glance at Nick,
his eyes had closed and the sandwich lay half eaten on the plate in
his lap. Asleep, he did not look nearly so ferocious. In fact, she
would have liked to see him without the beard, close up.
    She remembered him as being a devastat
ingly handsome man. And yet there was something about the rugged
growth of beard and mustache, the careless way his overly long dark
brown hair fell at an angle across his broad brow, that made his
face much more exciting than the male-model image the newspaper and
magazine photographs cast him in.
    As a young teenager she had often
fantasized being kidnapped by someone senusous and solicitous. And
isolated in the cabin with a man like Nick— it could have been a
fantasy come true . . . if one ignored the fact, she thought
grimly, that the two of them were enemies.
    As quietly as she could, she got up
and took the plate from Nick’s lap. After she had put the
half-eaten sandwich in the kitchen, she took the blanket off the
couch and covered Nick. She was about to turn away when his hand
shot out and grabbed hers. At the contact with him her stomach
knotted as if she had been running. Why did he have that power to
make her knees weak? No other man had ever had that control over
her.
    Nick’s black-fringed eyes riveted her
where she stood, seeming to look into the far comers of her mind as
if he were searching for something that she herself was not even
aware was hidden there. At last he said simply, “Thank you, Julie,”
and closed his eyes as if prepared to sleep.
    After a moment she pivoted and went
into the bedroom, bewildered. She told herself that she should be
angry with Nick, that everything that had happened was his fault.
She lay across the bed thinking of a hundred ways she could tell
him off, of how she would snub him if they ever met
again.
    But somehow in her dreams her scathing
words of contempt became twisted with his whispered words of
seduction, so that when she opened her eyes and found Nick bending
over her, she thought it was still part of her dream. “Julie,” he
said huskily, “you were moaning. Are you all right?”
    In the room’s semilight she could just
make out the hazy contours of the fierce counte¬nance. Her right
hand slipped up to touch the squared-off line of the bearded jaw.
“Nick,” she murmured sleepily. Then she saw the sudden light of
desire flicker in his eyes, and she rapidly blinked her lids to
clear the confusion from her sleep-fogged mind. “I thought that—I
was dreaming that ...”
    “What were you dreaming, Julie?” he
asked.
    His face was so close to hers, his
hands resting on either side of her head, that she found it
difficult to concentrate on what she was saying. Her head moved
slowly back and forth. “I don’t remember,” she lied.
    One brow shot up. “Oh?” His fingers
brushed aside the wisps of hair that had fallen across her
forehead. “How are you feeling?”
    “Fine,” she whispered, disconcerted by
the chiseled lips that hovered just over hers and the bold blue
eyes that seemed to devour her. “It must be that awful Third Day of
promised pain.” If he would just go away so she could compose her
emotions! Her heart beat so wildly she knew he must hear it. “I—I’m
thirsty, though. I’d like to