In Dreams. Patricia Rosemoor

woman was an everyday occurrence for him. He was gorgeous and entertaining, but beneath the charming facade, she sensed something different…something deeper and darker…something to which she responded to despite herself. Not that she liked being pushed around, even if it was for her own good. But that thread of steel in his veins when he wanted things his way had certainly surprised her.

      Lucy remembered Justin saying something about the bayou hiding secrets. What secrets was the bayou hiding for him?

      SOMETHING ABOUT Lucy Ryan got to Justin in a big way. No doubt it was the fact that she was a lady in distress and his natural proclivities were to help her. Especially now. He needed to feel right again.

      But he wasn’t ready to go back to New Orleans.

      He watched her clean her plate like she’d been starving. A woman with appetites, he thought, wondering about other things she might hunger for.

      “There’s more on the stove.”

      “I would be eating with my eyes rather than with my stomach.”

      She had beautiful eyes. Large and gray and for the most part sincere so he could practically look right down to her soul. Rather he could, if he believed in souls. He wasn’t sure what he believed in anymore. Certainly not in himself.

      He rose and started to clear.

      “No, I’ll do it,” she insisted, making contact with his hand as she reached for the same plate.

      He thought she might pull her hand back—she’d been a bit jumpy—but she stood still, staring at him, eyes wide open. His pulse shuddered as he read desire in them. And fear.

      She was afraid of him.

      He let go of the dish.

      “All right. It’s all yours.”

      Sitting back at the table, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she scraped plates into the garbage, then took them to the sink where a pan of soapy water awaited. He watched every movement of her hands—artist’s hands, smooth with long fingers and neat dark red nails—and wondered what they would feel like washing him. His instant erection told him he would like to find out.

      Not that he could. Or would. He was no good to her. No good to anyone, not even himself. The way his life was going, he could get them both killed.

      The knowledge didn’t stop him from fantasizing…from wanting to know every dip and curve of her body…from wanting to forget by losing himself inside her.

      Justin shook himself. He was an idiot. He wasn’t going to solve anything with sex. What he needed was a therapist and a couple of years on the couch. And a new profession, one that didn’t get people killed.

      “Done,” she said, moving toward him and drying her hands with a dish towel. “You don’t mind if I let the plates drain for a few minutes before drying them?”

      “You’re supposed to dry dishes?” he asked lightly, as if that were news to him.

      Lucy came closer. “You yanking my chain?”

      He’d like to yank her chain and anything else he could get hold of.

      Instead he said, “This place is casual. The only reason I don’t use paper plates is that it would give Mama a heart attack if she found ’em. She swears paper ruins good food.”

      She cocked her head. “Do you always do what your mother expects of you?”

      “Not always. A man has to have some say of his own. But I have to give her the plate issue, because I think she has a point.”

      She reached over to wipe down the table and she was too close for Justin to ignore. He was filled with her woman’s smell, her disturbing presence. And he was weak, after all. A mere man. He reached out and circled her wrist.

      Leaning over the table, Lucy stopped what she was doing and met his gaze. Justin saw something in her features that reflected what he himself was feeling. Hunger for something more than food. The emotions were stronger than the fear he’d sensed earlier.

      With the sound of rain tap-tap-tapping overhead, he pulled her to him. She didn’t resist. A slight tug and she was cradled in his lap. They stared at each other for a moment more, a moment in which every fiber of his body stirred and responded to hers.

      He wanted her, and unless he was out of his mind, she wanted him with equal craving.

      “Oh, Lu-u-cille,” he murmured before hooking a hand behind her neck and pulling her face to his.