The Perfect Temptation (38 page)

work at that when I remember
to, I'll allow you that one

as being fairly accurate."

"I also thought that you
were a brazen rogue, an unabashed

hedonist."

"I certainly can be,"
he admitted, his eyes twinkling.
"If

you're attracted to that sort
of man."

Had temptation ever been
wrapped in a package more

handsome and captivating than
Aiden Terrell?

"You are, aren't
you?"

Her heart shot into her throat
as her blood sang with hope

and desire. Dear God, when he
smiled like that her good

judgment turned to pudding.
"No," she managed to lie. She

moistened her lower lip and
then raggedly, honestly, added,

''Not as a general rule."

"If
you also assumed that I'm exceptional," he whispered

with a wink, "you'd be
right."

She didn't have a doubt. Not
even the tiniest one. Not

about him. "I'm sure you
are," she agreed breathlessly.

"However, such magnificent
abilities would be utterly

wasted on someone like
me."

She saw astonishment flicker in
his eyes, saw him swallow

and take a slow, even breath.
The roguish edge slipped

away from his smile.
"If
Barrett
wasn't likely to come back

through that door at any moment
looking for me," he said

softly, "I'd prove you
wrong right here on the spot."

Alex summoned every shred of
her tattered common

sense to keep her arms at her
sides. "No one is ever going to

accuse you of lacking
self-confidence."

His good humor unaffected, he
shrugged and eased away,

saying, "We'll address
your lack of it when I get back."

A vivid image, intoxicatingly
carnal, instantly filled her

mind. "No we won't,"
she countered hastily. "I'll bid you

good night now, Aiden."

He stopped and slowly turned.
The look in his eyes stole

her breath and filled her with
heart-thundering certainty.

"What about Barrett?"
she reminded him as he came back

to her.

"He can wait," he
replied, slipping one arm around her

waist, the other around her
shoulders. He drew her closer

and, his gaze searching hers,
lowered his head.

It
wasn't a light, tentative kiss as the others had
been.

No, this one was slowly,
heatedly deliberate and undeniably

possessive. Her senses
instantly, blissfully reeling, Alex

wrapped her arms around his
waist and melted against him,

abandoning reserve and surrendering
conscious thought.

When he traced her lips with
his tongue, she sighed with

pleasure and granted him
admission. When his arms tightened

around her and he tasted more
deeply, she clung
to

him, reveling in waves of heady
sensation. And when she

boldly sought a taste of him in
return, his moan swept

through her like liquid fire,
igniting a hunger that pulsed and

flared through every fiber of
her being.

From the farthest recesses of
his awareness came the tiny

voice of reason warning that he
was teetering on the edge,

telling him that he had to do
the right thing, had to let her

consciously choose to tumble
into oblivion with him. It hurt

to heed the wisdom, but he
forced himself to ease his claim

to her mouth and shift her in
his arms. Holding her close, her

head tucked under his chin, he
sucked in greedy breaths and

marveled at the furious beat of
his heart.

God, she was the most amazing
woman. His abilities

wasted on her? He closed his
eyes and breathed in the scent

of her hair. Never. Such
genuine acceptance, such a complete

lack of artifice. It was so
utterly, extraordinarily foreign

to his experience. He craved
more of her. All of her. He

could only hope that she didn't
reduce him to a pile of smoldering

ash. And if she did ... Aiden
smiled, knowing that

she was worth that risk and
ever so much more.

But his conscience spoke the
truth. The choice to give was

hers to make. Sweeping her
unknowingly past the point of no

return wasn't right. She
deserved respect and he'd honor her

even
if
it killed
him
to let
her go. He opened his eyes and deliberately

focused on the world around
them, on the reality of

where they were and the tasks
needing to be done.

"I have to leave.
Now," he whispered, his voice rough, his

hands gentle as he set her from
him and steadied her on her

feet. He trailed his fingertips
along the curve of her shoulders,

up the slim column of her neck.
Her pulse thrummed

beneath them and almost undid
his resolve. Clinging to the

tattered remnants of it, he
stepped away and let his hands fall

to his sides.

Her eyes were inviting shadows
as she looked up at him

and his heart wrenched at the
sacrifice. "Yes, now," he said,

more for himself than her.
"Or I won't be able to go at all.

Good night, Alex."

Alex choked back a cry of
protest. Then there was only

the thundering of her heart and
the desperate, aching want in

the center of her soul as she
watched him leave. And in those

moments a realization budded
and bloomed full. For as long

as she could remember, she'd
lived one day at a time, fulfilling

the expectations of others as
best she could and always

assuring herself that someday
there would come a reward

for enduring. That reward, a
tangible thing she could hold,

would magically make all the
loneliness, all the emptiness

of the days that had gone
before,
.worth
bearing.

Alex stared into the shadows of
the hall. She'd never

known, never guessed that it
was possible
to
feel as magnificently

alive as she did now. How
incredibly naive she had

been. The reward wasn't a thing
at all; it was a feeling from

deep within her. It was joy and
wonder and a wanting to dare

to reach for more.
It
was in
discovering a vibrant path, in

making the journey. Where it
ended ... Alex took a steadying

breath. Where it ended didn't
matter nearly as much as

being able to travel along
it-even for just a short while with

John Aiden Terrell.

Chapter 12

The peacocks, Aiden resolved as
he strode down the upstairs

hall, were going to die. The
means by which early-morning

peace and tranquility was
restored was all that remained to be

decided. Wringing their necks
promised more satisfaction

than putting a bullet in them,
but it would take longer. And

considering the hue and cry
rising from the rear yard for the

second time that morning, the
speed of their dispatch was all

that truly mattered.
By
the time he
got there, Preeya would be

done feeding them and back in the
kitchen. Which was good;

it would go much faster if he
didn't have to shoot around her.

He was on the third step down
when a tiny streak of butterscotch

shot past his right foot.
Instinctively, he hopped to

the left. And would have landed
on a streak of calico if he

hadn't immediately and
desperately thrown his entire body
.

back to the right. He froze,
barely on his feet, just as three

more blurs of color dashed past
and downward.

"They're out!" Mohan
shrieked from behind him, testing

Aiden's grip on the banister as
he bounded past in pursuit of

the kittens.

Gazing after the reckless parade,
he saw Alex in the front

shop, a kitten in each hand, her
head tilted back as she

laughed at the chaos racing
around the hems of her skirt and

cloak. The center of his chest
clenched, trapping his breath

and warming his blood. And then,
out of the blue, a wave of

melancholy washed through
him.
How he'd
missed the sound

of laughter. How he'd missed the
brightness of hope and the

thrill of little, unexpected
joys. He wanted to go home. He

wanted to pack up Alex and Mohan
and the kittens and Preeya

and her damn peacocks and take
them home. Today. On the

evening's tide.

And it wasn't going to happen, he
sadly admitted. It

couldn't happen. Not today. Not
tomorrow. Not ever. And,

he sternly added, only a fool
would spend another moment

thinking about it. Resolved, he
focused his sight on the present

reality, noting that Alex had
placed the kittens in a shawl.

She was smiling, trying to
transfer the squirming bundle to

Mohan while keeping the
determined kittens from popping

out the folds.

His chest tightened again and he
quickly looked away,

forestalling another painful bout
by doing a quick appraisal

of the shop. He blinked and
frowned. Where the hell had

everything gone? And when had it
disappeared? There were

a few things left, certainly, but
the vast majority of her merchandise

had vanished. He glanced toward
the rear of the

house and into the blue fabric
room. The shelves were practically

stripped.

"Good morning, Aiden."

He looked back at her as Mohan
raced up the stairs with

his lumpy sack of cats.

''Were you robbed?" he
asked, resuming his trek downward.

"When did it happen? And why
didn't you say something

to me?"

"You've spent the last three
days teaching Mohan to ride,"

she supplied, her smile radiant.
''And when not answering

the blacksmith's endless
questions about the window grates,

I've spent them dealing with a
flood of customers.
It
happens