he said.
Two shallow lines formed between her eyebrows. “What old superstition?”
“When you save a person’s life, then you’re responsible for them.”
She released her hold on him as if she had been scorched. “No man is responsible for me.”
He smiled, a heated curve of his lips that had reduced more than one woman to breathlessness. “Have I ever told you I’m a very superstitious person? And I take my responsibilities very seriously.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, feeling the heat of her skin and breathing in the herbal scent of her shampoo.
When he stepped back, he half expected her to slap him. Maybe he even deserved it, but that kiss had been worth it. Instead, she only tried to wound him with her gaze. Still smiling, he picked up his bag and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time to the second floor. His stay at the Bear’s Den was going to be very interesting, indeed.
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