Dangerous love

Ruiner of men.

Irene's breath caught as his thumb drifted down to glide across

her bottom lip. Slowly, oh, so lightly. He stroked her again

Then she felt another touch, a warmer one, but still buttery

soft She shivered as his breath brushed over her mouth, shared again as he slid his arms around her.

She knew she should stop this. But it felt as though sunlight had bloomed deep inside her body, warming her in a way she'd never experienced before. Slowly, hesitantly, she laid her hands on his shoulders, unsure whether she wanted to push him or pull him closer. He was hot beneath her palms, his muscles

rippling as he tightened his embrace.

He muttered something against her lips, a thick, internal male sound that sent darts of unexpected heat rushing through her. Cupping the back of her head in one hand, he bent her

backwards and settled his mouth more firmly on hers.

Irene gasped, and that allowed him entrance. He traced the edges of her teeth and the tender insides of her lips, then deeper. It seemed as though some other woman controlled her

now, a woman who liked the scent and feel and taste of a man

a woman who allowed the sweet ebb and flow of warmth to deen in her body.

Travis felt the change in her, read arousal in the softening of her body and the heat of her mouth. It pleased him, incited him, and, paradoxically, angered him. He knew women too well and wanted this one too much. And he couldn't forget her reputation; how many men had she snared with this game

of retreat and withdrawal and sudden passion?

It took an effort of will for him to lift his mouth from hers.

But he did it, and the cost of it angered him still more. "So,"

he murmured, staring down into her glazed eyes, "You're not

as cold as you led me to believe, Mrs Robertson."

Surprise swept through her, followed a moment later by outrage. Until now, she hadn't known true shame. The things

Noel had taken from her, he'd taken by force. But her response to Travis had been given. It would have hurt less had he struck her. Stiffening, she pulled away. He stood smiling down at her,

but it was a terrible smile, full of cynicism and the beginnings

of contempt.

Pride squared her shoulders. "You have no right to judge me.

"Don't I?"

"No," she said. "Hate me if you will, but don't presume too

much about my life."

"I don't give a damn about your life."

"Just my body."

Damn, but she hit hard. No wonder Noel Robertson spent his nights drinking more champagne than any man should. "That's right," he said. "Just your body. For what it's worth."

Irene was suddenly tired of sparring with him. In the past month, she'd buried her child, spent the last of her strength

in a vain attempt to hide from Joel, and passed through the edges of fear into black despair. Tonight, Travis Grant

had taught her that she had still more capacity to be hurt, and she simply didn't have the resources to cope.

"Are you going to take me now?" she asked.

Travis gaped at her, completely dumbfounded. "What?"

"If you are, I wish you'd get it over with. I'm exhausted."

"Do you want me to?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

She stripped her jacket off and review her white soft skin as she tossed them on the nearest table. "Does it matter what I want?" Too much bitterness edged her voice, but she couldn't control it. "You purchased the use of my body. Use it if you're going to, and then let me get some sleep."

Had there been any warmth in her eyes, he might have been tempted. But her gaze was as chill and level as any he'd seen behind the beautiful face and fine skin

"I've never forced myself on a woman," he said, "and I don't intend to now."

"Then you'll take me on the terms I first suggested?"

He smiled at her, understanding her game at last. "No, Mrs Robertson, I won't. For I'm a man of my word, and that's a promise I'd have too much trouble keeping. But I will wait

until you're a bit more eager."

"I doubt I'll ever be eager.' she whispered in a weak voice.

His smile broadened. "After that kiss a moment ago, I have trouble believing that. I don't know why you're playing at this game, but I have no doubt I'll soon claim all that is mine."

Irene wasn't sure whether his voice held a promise or a threat.

But she was safe for tonight at least, and that was a gift she hadn't expected. Her strength ran out suddenly and completely: if she hadn't grasped the back of the nearest chair, she would

have fallen.

Travis leapt to support her. Alarm hammered in his chest at the way her body sagged in his arms. "What is it? Do you need a doctor?"

"No." Her vision started to blur. "I'm just tired. Please, just let me lie down somewhere."

She felt him lift her into his arms. His grasp was gentle and impersonal, and for some inexplicable reason, made her feel like pressing her face against the strong column of his neck.

"Rest," he said. "There's one promise I will make to you, as long as you're in my house, no one will harm you. You're

safe, Irene ."

Safe. She hadn't been safe from the moment she'd met Noel. Six years of being afraid, six years in which her only

solace had been the love of the son she'd lost. With a sigh, she leaned her head against Travi'ss shoulder

and let herself drift into the waiting darkness.

Travis knew Irene was sleeping by the utter relaxation of her body. He carried her upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms and laid her gently on the bed. Gently, he unbuttoned her gown

and slid it off her shoulders, then down to her feet and arrange it on the couch, he turn back to her, wondering how he is going to remove her lingering knowing very well she can't sleep comfortably wearing it. Travis went back to the bed, gently pull her bra and pants off, and quickly cover her with a blue duvet before he forget his promise and devour her.

He stood staring down at her for a long moment. She was a stunning sight, all sweet, satiny curves and pale skin. Her

hair spread across the pillow in a riot of midnight curls against his better judgement. He stroked his palm along that Blue duvet.

Lovely. A woman to drive a man to drink, as she had her husband. A woman to make a man forget even a brother's death in the drive to possess her. A woman, indeed, to use as a weapon

against the enemy who wanted her.

But Travis didn't want to use her as a weapon. He wanted to make love to her; he wanted to take her in tenderness and

passion. But that wasn't possible with Irene Robertson, Schemer, seductress, and ruiner of men.

"Fool," he muttered. "You know women too well."

Yes. He'd known a mother who'd cast him into the gutter at the age of nine, not caring if he lived or died. He'd known

women who wanted him for his looks, and then later, his money.

Irene rolled over onto her back, and his gaze roved the

the curve of her hip and thigh, finally coming to rest on the rich curve of the breast above her chest. He could see the rosy shape of her n*****s through the lace. What would it be like, he wondered, to taste those breasts, to feel her arch beneath him as he slid deep into her body? Sweat broke out on his forehead.

Damn him to hell, but he felt like he'd been doused with fire, and that only from looking at her.

No wonder Joel wanted her.

So do you, Travis my guy.

She rolled her head from side to side, and her breathing

quickened. A dream, he thought, and a most unquiet one. He

took her hand. Her skin was hot, and her fingers closed around

his in a grip of surprising strength.

"Easy," he murmured. "You're safe with me."

She shifted onto her side, bringing his hand to her cheek.

His arm lay across the soft swell of her breast, and the contact sent arousal jolting through his body. He sat, breath suspended, impaled on a desire that made his very bones ache.

"Nelson," she whispered. "Oh, Nelson."

Travis let his breath out sharply, feeling as though he'd been struck. Damn. He found himself angry with her, irritation-

nally angry, for calling another man's name when he wanted to hear his own. He'd let his imagination run away with him again, a dangerous thing in dealing with a woman like Irene Robertson.

"It's only business," he said. "Nothing more."

He pulled the covers up over her, turned down the table lamp, and quietly left the room.