Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [53]
She looked up in bewilderment, her doe eyes wide and asking in their frame of dark lashes.
“I've decided to give you a little more time before you fulfill your part of our little bargain,” he said bluntly. “God knows how long I'll last, but I figure I can hold out for a week or so.”
A cold sinking lethargy washed over her in a chilly tide that confused and frightened her. Why did she feel this sudden sense of loss?
“I see,” she said quietly. “May I ask why you're being so generous?”
His mouth twisted cynically. “Perhaps I'm developing a taste for the joys of self-denial and abstention,” he said dryly. “Or perhaps those big brown eyes of yours make me feel like a hunter out of season.”
“That's very kind of you,” she said lifelessly. “I appreciate your consideration.”
“You're damn right it is,” he said frowning. “I guess the truth is, I've never had to blackmail a woman to get her into bed with me before. It's leaving a bad taste in my mouth.”
He suddenly reminded Brenna, rather endearingly, of a small boy who had been told that Christmas had been canceled this year.
“I thought I'd give you a chance to get to know me,” he said gruffly. “Perhaps we could be friends. We seemed to be doing pretty well on the island, before you got into that damn bathtub.”
Brenna hid an amused smile at the accusing tone of the statement. She wondered if he had conveniently forgotten that he had ordered her into that bathtub.
“Do you think it will work?” she asked solemnly, her eyes twinkling. She was suddenly feeling wonderfully lighthearted.
“Hell, I don't know!” he growled sourly. “But the alternate is to forget about the coffee, and I take you upstairs and don't let you out of that bedroom for a week.”
“I see,” she said earnestly. “Well, then perhaps we'd better try.” An impish grin curved her lips, and her brown eyes were shining mischievously. “After all, I wouldn't want to take you away from your work.”
There was a trace of disgruntled conjecture in the blue eyes, as Donovan took in the demure smile on Brenna's face.
“Don't get too cocky,” he said warningly. “It's only a postponement, not a reprieve.”
“Who knows what can happen in a week,” she said breezily. “You may decide I don't appeal to you. After all, I'm not your regulation sex goddess.”
“No, you're not,” he agreed, his eyes suddenly dark and intense , as he came slowly forward to stand before her. There was a breathless electricity in the air, as he reached out with one finger and traced the fine contour of her cheekbone. “You're much too thin; a strong wind could blow you away. Your face is lovely, but I've seen lovelier. Except for your eyes, it's not an outstanding face.” He cradled her face in his hands with a yearning tenderness. “And then you smile, and all I want to do is pick you up and carry you away somewhere, so that you'll never give that special smile to anyone but me.” His lips touched hers gently. “You're much more dangerous to a man than any sex goddess, sweetheart.”
She stared up, mesmerized, into his lean, tan face, feeling tears brighten her eyes and her throat constrict painfully. He was doing it again, she thought helplessly. She could fight against his blatant sex appeal, but what defense could she offer against this aching tenderness that left her conscious of an ephemeral something just out of reach.
“I think we'd better forget about the coffee tonight,” he said hoarsely, as he turned away abruptly. “I've had your things put in the second bedroom on the right, at the top of the stairs. You'll forgive me if I don't show you to your room.” The muscles in his back and shoulders were tense beneath the fine material of his evening jacket, as he walked over to the coffeemaker and pulled the plug from the socket.
He turned back when there was no movement from the breakfast bar, and found Brenna sitting quite still, staring at him with dazed, dreamy eyes. “Brenna, dammit!” he started in exasperation, then broke off as her expression changed not a whit. “Have a heart, love,” he said huskily. “I can't take much more.”
Brenna