Sweet Child of Mine Read Online Free PDF

her mouth surrendering to his, her body softening against him.
    Her response was gasoline splashed on flames. Hispowerful body tightened against her, and she thought she heard someone moan softly before she realized it was her own voice.
    Michael broke off the kiss and let her go, then quickly pulled her back. She’d seen those green eyes in many guises, but she’d never seen them hot. And bewildered. Very much like her own must be.
    Suzanne shivered. Michael dropped his arms and stepped back.
    “This—” His voice was rough. It felt like sandpaper on her too-sensitized skin. “This could be a problem.”
    She realized that many patrons had turned their way. Bobby, she thought. My baby. Nothing else mattered.
    “It won’t happen again,” she said, furious that her voice was shaking.
    Michael studied her for a long moment, his expression moving from stunned to almost amused. The heat still simmered in his eyes. “Spontaneous combustion is a force no one can control.”
    There were many more facets to Michael Longstreet than she’d seen. She’d need every bit of her wits to pull off this charade.
    She struggled to remember the Suzanne Jorgenson who’d traded barbs with him with abandon in council chambers. “Heat lightning,” she said. “It comes, but it doesn’t last. And it doesn’t come often.” She shrugged with an assurance she wished she felt.
    One dimple winked at her. The smile was too much. No way would she check to see if the eyes were still smoldering.
    “Don’t kid yourself, Suzanne. We’ll strike fire off each other. Often.” But to her relief, he shrugged and clapped a companionable arm around her shoulders. “But it’s just sex. And we’re reasonable people, right?”
    She thought she heard laughter in his voice, but she wasn’t looking at him again tonight. That was too dangerous by half.
    So she just patted the hand that lay on her shoulder and smiled for the audience. “Reasonable, that’s right. Now get me the devil out of here.”
    Michael laughed and led her outside.

Three
    W arm rays of sunlight on his face awakened Michael. He levered himself up from the bed, not happy that he’d overslept. A glance at the clock told him he’d have to hurry to squeeze in his morning run. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then slid them upward through his hair.
    And then it hit him.
    He fell back on the mattress, arms outspread. The night—and his impulsive gesture—came flooding back.
    He was going to get married. To Suzanne Jorgenson.
    Jerking upright, he pulled on a pair of ancientsweats and shoved his feet into his running shoes. He barely spared a glance for the treasured panorama from his bedroom but as he crossed to the hallway door, his gaze fell on the connecting door that led from his bedroom to an old-fashioned dressing room…and then to the bedroom Suzanne would have. The house had been built by a San Francisco shipping magnate in the last century and it had four bedrooms, two large and two small, all on the second floor. He used one of the smaller ones for an office, and the boy would need the other, which left only the room originally designed for the magnate’s wife.
    Separate bedrooms had seemed perfectly reasonable last night, but that was before that last kiss. Now he wondered if maybe these weren’t separate enough.
    Michael began his warm-up stretches, his mind lost in thought.
    He should have expected it, he guessed, that swift punch of need. It was an understandable reaction to the wealth of passion he’d already seen in Suzanne’s devotion to her causes. He had to admit that he’d wondered, sitting there on the dais watching her eyes spark as she argued fervently over one thing or another, if that fervor would translate to the physical.
    He’d underestimated how much. And seriously underestimated his own reaction to it. The woman would strip a man of every rational thought and leave him happily witless.
    Suzanne might be small, but she packed a punch.
    But