Still Mine (25 page)

About the Author

To learn more about Mary Wine, please visit
MaryWine.com
. Send an email to Mary Wine at
[email protected]
.

Look for these titles by Mary Wine

Now Available:

Evolution’s Embers

Full Disclosure

Let Me Love You

Love is the last thing a lone woman in the West should believe in, but the heart doesn’t always listen to good sense.

Let Me Love You

© 2007 Mary Wine

With a spirit as wild as the West, Brianna Spencer faces a hard life in the small town of Silver Peak. Her father has not returned from spring hunting, but no way is she listening to anyone who says her father is dead. He’s delayed…that’s all.

When Sloan McAlister finds Brianna walking the docks to pay down a bank note, she grabs his attention. The docks aren’t meant for her caliber of woman. Yet the West is ruled by one thing, the need to survive. Sloan soon finds himself right in the middle of a claim-jumping family that considers Brianna easy prey while her father’s out of the picture.

His better judgment says to walk away. But after one stolen kiss, Sloan refuses to do anything of the sort. If she’s going warm any man’s bed, Brianna will marry him. However, Brianna wants more than his strong arm to back up her father’s property. It’s his love or nothing.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Let Me Love You:

He shouldn’t touch her.

That thought didn’t stick. Sloan wasn’t sure it even left a trail as it slipped right out of his brain to make room for the hunger that was doubling in size as he watch Brianna work the last of her coat buttons. A smile touched his lips at the innocent picture she made in the coatroom—she was still wearing her gloves and her fingers were clumsy on the buttons due to the fabric coating her fingers. A silvery giggle escaped her lips as she stopped and tugged her gloves off before stuffing them into a coat pocket. Music floated in on the wind as the light flickered over her smile. She was humming with the fiddle as she shrugged out of her jacket and turned around to place it on a hook.

Brianna had to rise up onto her toes to reach a free hook. The walls already strained under the number of coats and shawls hanging there. It didn’t bother her. In fact, it added to the festive atmosphere. A pair of male hands suddenly appeared over hers and plucked her coat from her. A little gasp escaped her lips as sensation rippled along her skin from the contact of bare fingers against bare fingers. It was such a silly thing to notice so intently, but little goose bumps spread along her arms.

Her coat landed on a hook that was sure a whole lot easier for Sloan McAlister to reach with his towering height. Brianna wasn’t even certain her head came to the man’s shoulders. She turned around and discovered it didn’t. Her breath got stuck in her throat as she tipped her chin up to look at his face. It was strange the way her body quivered. On some level, she actually recognized what his skin smelled like and something in her belly jumped at that scent. There was no room to retreat among the coats and wraps. Trapping her, once more close to his frame. The level of awareness she had developed for him was astounding. She felt drawn to him even as her common sense warned her to run.

“Thank you. Guess I should be on time if I want to hang up my coat.”

Brianna stared at the way he looked at her. It was an odd detail and her brain insisted on noticing his gaze on her mouth. A shiver raced up her arms, shaking her body hard enough for Sloan to see in the poor light. One corner of his mouth rose slightly as his hand brushed her cheek. The skin-to-skin contact felt so good it was almost exciting. Sloan stepped closer and her foot moved back. The coats wouldn’t let her retreat any farther though, forming a soft mountain of fabric that pressed her towards Sloan. His hand moved to her lips where he traced them with his thumb.

Brianna gasped as sensation surged through her. She had no idea her skin could be so aware of a single touch. Her heart raced beneath her corset and her increased respiration drew the warm scent of Sloan’s skin deep into her lungs. She’d never imagine that she might like the way any human smelled but tonight, she enjoyed the scent of warm male skin that came with Sloan.

“You’re standing under the mistletoe.”

She lifted her eyes to look for the little green plant and Sloan leaned down to kiss her. She gasped as he slipped an arm around her to hold her in place. Her hands landed on the wide chest that had tempted her since last night. Each fingertip was alive with awareness as he took command of her mouth.

Who could have explained to her that a man’s kiss might burn? Brianna twisted as Sloan’s mouth pressed her lips farther apart and the tip of his tongue gently moved over her lower lip. He didn’t rush the kiss. It was slow and firm, pressing her mouth open by small, steady degrees. She felt the brush of his fingers along the bare nape of her neck as he gently gripped the tender area, tipping her head back to offer her mouth more fully to his. Heat surged through her blood, igniting a need to get even closer to his body. Her fingertips lamented the fabric preventing her from touching him. A deep groan shook his chest before his tongue thrust into her mouth, breeding an answering whimper from her. His tongue stroked hers and pleasure swirled around her brain so thick, thinking was impossible. Brianna was more interested in lifting her tongue to join the dance and Sloan didn’t disappoint her. His tongue twisted with hers as he held her neck in place with that large hand.

A moment later she was free. Sloan stood looking at her with a dark hunger flickering in his eyes. Brianna stared at that emotion as she tried to force her mind to tell her what it was. Her body seemed to understand. Her belly was twisting and her blood racing, but she couldn’t quite form a word to describe the flood of sensations that look brought on. Only one thing she knew for certain: she wanted Sloan to kiss her some more.

And she wanted to kiss him back.

That truth frightened her. She knew so little about this man, yet her body was ready, even eager, to offer up her chastity to him. Brianna lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she stared at the hard desire displayed on his face. Sloan was watching, waiting to see what she did in response to his liberty-taking. A Christmas kiss beneath the mistletoe was a quick press of lips. Not the hungry, ravishing embrace he’d just stolen that burned through her senses. Her mouth tingled, sparking a hunger that she was quite at a loss as to how to deal with.

She should slap him or find some sharp, insulting comment to lay on his ears for his boldness. Berate him for acting like a cad. But the thing that kept her staring in stunned silence was the fact that she’d enjoyed it. Her body was saying yes and Brianna wasn’t a hypocrite, even if she was weak enough to like his kiss. Heat flowed through her like a river. Insane ideas danced across her imagination, tempting her to reach for him and press her own kiss against his mouth. Return his boldness, measure for measure. It wasn’t a ladylike notion at all.

Oh, her mother had certainly tried to teach her better, but the heat bleeding across every inch of her skin only proved Brianna was an extremely poor student.

“It’s November. Not Christmas.”

Sloan nodded as he gripped his belt. “So it is.”

He didn’t sound repentant, not one bit. Most men would at least offer an apology for stealing such a kiss right in the church entryway. “Told you not to trust any man. I wanted to kiss you, so I did it. The rules don’t really matter when I know how to get around them.”

“Kissing me was meant as some kind of warning?”

He jerked slightly, and gripped his belt tighter. His gaze moved for a brief moment as he checked either side of them for any approaching company. When his attention was once again centered on her, a warning flared in his dark eyes.

“Kissing you was enjoyable. I liked it so much, you’d better get inside before I forget you’re a virgin.”

The knuckles on his hands turned white and Brianna shivered. She could see a battle to let her go burning in his dark eyes, like he was arguing against some inner beast to do the right thing and treat her like a lady.

The horrible reality was a part of her didn’t want Sloan to win that fight. The light in the hall suddenly lost its beckoning appeal as Brianna fought the desire to let Sloan pull her away into some dark shadow where they could explore the heat their skin created when they were pressed together. Discover what it was like to be stroked along every part of her body that her dress covered. Her thoughts shocked her as much as they excited her. Forcing her mind to return to the sharper edges of reality, she recalled the face of the last female she’d seen leaving town as a fallen woman. There wouldn’t be any reprieve from the judgment of the community and Sloan McAlister didn’t strike her as the marrying sort.

“You can stop worrying about me, Mr. McAlister. I heard you just fine and I certainly don’t need a man kissing me because he feels sorry for my ignorance. I assure you I can get a kiss without making a man feel pity for me.”

It might not be the wisest thing that had ever rolled out of her mouth, but she wasn’t going to scurry into the church with her tail tucked between her legs. The man bred a need inside her to prove she was strong enough to handle anything. She didn’t want him to see her as weak.

His eyes flashed dark warning at her before she lifted her chin and turned her back on him. Her neck tightened as she moved through the entryway, unsure if her boots were going to remain on the floor. She’d tossed her words at him like a challenge. No way was she was going to whimper because he’d treated her like a woman.

Their passion rivals the fires they battle.

Hot Shot

© 2008 M.J. Fredrick

Peyton Michaels expected her assignment to be simple—write an article about everyday heroes. Heroes like Hot Shot firefighter Gabe Cooper. She never expected to find herself running up a mountain, a wildfire nipping at her heels, her life in his hands.

And she never expected to be drawn to Gabe. After the loss of her husband in the line of duty, the last thing she wants is to fall in love with yet another man who routinely puts his life at risk.

Gabe has had enough of women who want to make him into someone he’s not. Women like his ex, who couldn’t handle the heat of his job. Like Peyton, who sees him as a hero when he’s just a man doing a job. Except time after time, the pesky reporter proves her mettle. And gets deeper under his skin.

But there’s an arsonist at work, and danger is closing in with the speed of a raging brush fire. Peyton and Gabe have to dig deep for what it takes to be a real hero—to find the courage to reach out and grab a forever kind of love. Before it’s too late.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hot Shot:

After the sun went down, their headlamps put out miserly light in the pitch blackness. The only light was the glow of the fire beneath them; the smoke had obliterated the moon and stars. It was too dark to tell if they were still in the open or if they’d gone back into the trees. The ground had leveled off so it felt like they were moving sideways instead of up. Peyton hoped Gabe knew where they were. She was pretty sure he did, at least in relation to the camp.

Though she couldn’t see him, she sensed him, and not just because of the noise he made as he climbed, as he breathed. It had to be because they were the only two people on the mountain, right? She would feel this way about any person she was running for her life with, this connection, this need.

It wasn’t because he was a man, a strong man. A handsome man. A hero.

Her muscles trembled with every step. Her head didn’t want to stay upright on her neck, and sweat soaked her T-shirt through the fire shirt he insisted she wear.

Ahead of her, Gabe crouched and she almost tripped over him. She caught her balance with a touch to his back, damp with perspiration, hard with tension. He stumbled a bit, then stood slowly. She dropped her hand away.

“We’ll camp here,” he announced abruptly.

“Camp?” She turned back to where the fire glowed below them, reflecting off the smoke in an eerie red light. “But the fire—”

“We’re in the black. No fuel.”

Where had she heard that before? “We thought we were in the black where the helicopter landed.”

He sighed. Another question he didn’t want to answer. Then the ground around them was illuminated. She shielded her eyes from the sudden light of his flashlight. He walked around the area, kicking up burned grass and clouds of ash.

“It’s cool,” he assured her. “No embers.”

She was afraid to trust nature, but she did trust Gabe Cooper. In relief, she sank to her knees, fatigue quivering her muscles. “I’m so tired but I don’t think I can sleep.”

He dropped his pack beside her, sending up particles of soot and making her cough. He lowered himself to the ground next to her with a groan and switched off the flashlight. The darkness beyond the pale beams of their headlamps was overwhelming and silent, and she reached for him, then stopped herself. He wouldn’t interpret the touch as being a means for her to regain her balance, like on the climb. He’d attribute it to female hysteria, to cowardice, and that she couldn’t bear, for him to find her lacking in any way. She closed her fingers around her pack instead.

“Got any water left?” he asked, oblivious.

“A little.”

“Make it last.”

She dug out her bottle by feel, shook it to gauge how much water was in it. Less than half, probably. She would only take a sip to wash the dust from her throat. But when the tepid water touched her lips she wanted to gulp it down. Gabe pulled it away from her. In the dark, his fingers brushed hers, bare now, no gloves, and she almost dropped the bottle. At least he couldn’t see her fumble as she secured the container and stuffed it back in her pack.

“Tomorrow will be a long day without water.” He pulled his pack in front of him and pawed through it.

“I know.”

“Ever sleep outdoors?”

“Not in the middle of nowhere.”

He turned toward her. “Even in a tent?” he asked, disbelief in his voice.

Was he was teasing? So what if she hadn’t slept outside? She hadn’t had the desire. Did that make her weak?

“Do you have a tent?” she asked.