Gingerbread Man

kids."
    She sighed softly, nodding. "Thank you, Vince. It means a lot to me that you told me the truth, finally."
    He looked at the floor, avoiding her eyes. "You needed to know. I can't play knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress, Red."
    "I know." She smiled sadly. "In your own way, O'Mally, you're as screwed up as I am."
    "I never said I wasn't. After what I saw in that house in Syracuse.... I don't know if I'm ever gonna get over that."
    She lifted her chin. "You may not. If you do, then maybe that's when you need to start questioning your mental state, because I don't think any caring, sane person could put something like that behind him."
    He sighed, relieved maybe, that she understood.
    She locked her eyes with his. "So you don't want me to need you. I can deal with that. But tell me this, Vince. Does that mean I can't want you?"

THIRTEEN
----

    HOLLY STOOD CLOSE to him in the bedroom, and the storm was still raging. Outside... inside. Hell, he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He could smell the hint of pine and rain that still clung to her skin. And he knew better, dammit, but it didn't seem to matter. Her face tilted up toward his, and her eyes were storm-tossed lakes of phosphorous green, and he saw the need in them, despite her denial. But he also saw the desire. It blazed, green flames licking up at him, burning him. All his arguments went silent. He knew he was about to make a huge mistake, but, hell, he was only human. He was out of willpower. He curled his hands around her upper arms, pulled her against him, and he kissed her. Her mouth was cool and wet, opening willingly against his. He let go of her arms, and they twisted around his neck, pulled tighter, closer. He slid his arms around her waist, just kept on kissing her. When her tongue touched his, his body caught fire. His heart hammered and his blood boiled and his head swam with images, vivid ones, of the two of them tangled and naked. Desire, carnal and blatant, jolted through him. It was centered in his chest, that surge, but zapping outward in all directions so forcefully he was sure he must have had sparks flying from his fingertips.
    He stopped. Just stopped, let go of her as if she were too hot to touch, took a backward step and felt himself shaking down deep. "Jesus."
    She lowered her head, but not before he'd seen the stunned confusion in her eyes. Followed quickly by the hurt. He had not expected this. Desire was one thing. He knew he was attracted to her, he'd expected desire. He'd felt desire out there in the woods, before, but there was more now. Way more.
    She shivered, rubbed her arms. She'd felt it, too.
    "Holly—"
    Her head snapped up, eyes alight. "Don't you dare tell me that was a mistake. Or that it can't go any further. Don't you dare, Vince."
    Before he could speak, there was a perfunctory tap on the door. It opened immediately, and Graycloud stepped in without waiting for an invitation. His sharp eyes danced from Holly to Vince and back again. Vince wondered what he was seeing. The two of them standing, facing each other, looking shaken and stunned, and maybe flushed and aroused, too. Holly did, at least. He hoped he hid what he was feeling a little better than she.
    "Oh, she is awake. I thought I heard her," Amanda said from behind the doctor. "Holly, you shouldn't be up on your feet. Not so soon."
    "I'm fine," Holly said, but her gaze was still riveted to Vince's, and he saw the threat there. It was almost laughable that he could feel threatened by a woman her size, but he did. She meant to do him in. She wasn't going to take no for an answer, and he seriously doubted he'd be able to give it more than once or twice anyway. It was coming. It was inevitable, that's what those eyes said. Whatever it was that had just happened here, she wanted more of it.
    Hell, he did, too.
    "I'll be the judge of how fine you are," Graycloud said. "Into bed with you, Holly. Come on now."
    She glanced at the doctor, sighed her surrender, and returned to the bed. As she got in Vince wondered what insanity had made him think even for a minute that he could curl up in a big soft bed with her—or a big pile of icy wet leaves, for that matter—and keep his hands to himself. She was too much. Screwed up enough to push all his buttons. The woman was damaged, and for good reason. He had a weakness for wounded women, and this one was wounded enough to kill him. He'd known that up front. Thought he could handle it. Then she'd gone