Sanctuary

lust this time, and she couldn’t resist it. “You booked the physical for her, and you haven’t paid the bill.” She rose to her toes. “My services don’t come cheap.” And brushed her lips to his.
    His hands were at her waist as the taste of her flooded into him. “I keep telling you to back off.” He tilted his head, deepened the kiss. “Why don’t you listen?”
    Her breath was already starting to back up, clog her lungs. A glorious sensation. “I’m stubborn. Persistent. Right.”
    “You’re aggressive.” His teeth nipped into her bottom lip, tugged. “I don’t like aggressive women.”
    “Mmm. Yes, you do.”
    “No, I don’t.” He pushed her back against the counter until his body was pressed hard and hot to hers, until his mouth could fix firmly and devour. “But I want you. Happy now?”
    She tipped her head back, moaning when his mouth raced down her throat. “Give me five minutes to cancel my afternoon appointments and we’ll both be ecstatic. Brian, put your hands on me, for God’s sake.”
    “It’s not going to be easy.” He nipped at her ear where a little emerald stud winked at the lobe, worked his way restlessly back to her mouth to plunder until her nails dug into his shoulders. He saw himself taking her there, where they stood, just dragging down his fly, dragging down her neat trousers and plunging in until this desperate need, this vicious frustration, was behind him.
    But he didn’t touch her, didn’t take her. Instead, he used the ache churning inside him to control them both. He wrapped his hand around her throat, drew her head back until their eyes met. Hers were the green of restless seas, urging him to dive in.
    “It’s going to be my way. You’re going to have to accept that.”
    Nerves shuddered through desire. “Listen—”
    “No, we’re done with that. Done with the games too. You could’ve backed off, but you didn’t. Now it’s going to be my way. When I come back, we’re going to finish this.”
    Her breath was coming fast, her blood pumping hot. For a moment she hated him for being able to study her with eyes so cool and controlled. “Do you think that scares me?”
    “I don’t think you’ve got sense enough to let it scare you.” And he smiled, slowly, dangerously. “But it should. When I come back,” he repeated and stepped away from her. “And I won’t give a damn if you’re ready.”
    She steadied herself and grabbed for some pride. “Why, you arrogant bastard!”
    “That’s right.” He walked toward the door, praying he could make it out before the aching for her made him groan aloud. He shot her a last look, skimming his gaze over the tousled, sunlit hair, the eyes that sparkled with a range of dangerous emotions, the mouth that was still swollen from his. “I’d go tidy myself up a bit, doc. Your next patient just pulled up.”
    He let the screen slam behind him.

THIRTEEN
    L ITTLE Desire cottage wasn’t much of a detour on the way back to Sanctuary. In any case, Jo thought, scrambling to justify it, the walk would do her good.
    Maybe she wanted to take some afternoon shots of the river, see how many more wildflowers had bloomed. And since she’d be walking by, it would be rude not to at least stop in.
    Besides, it was family property.
    She even worked out a little just-passing-by excuse, did some mental rehearsing to perfect just the right casual tone. So it was quite a letdown to get to the cottage and see that Nathan’s Jeep was gone.
    She stood at the base of the stairs a moment, debating, then quickly mounted them before she could change her mind. There was nothing wrong with slipping in, just for a second, leaving a note. It wasn’t as if she would disturb anything or poke around. She just wanted to—Damn it, his door was locked.
    It was another minor jolt. People on Desire rarely locked their doors. Too curious now to worry about manners, she pressed her face to the glass panel and peered in.
    On the long table that served the kitchen area sat a compact laptop computer, frustratingly and neatly closed. A streamlined printer stood beside it. Long tubes that she assumed held blueprints were stacked nearby. One large square of paper was unrolled and anchored at the corners with a jar of instant coffee, an ashtray, and two mugs. But no matter how she shifted or angled her head, she couldn’t make out what was printed on it.
    None of my business anyway, she reminded herself, straining to see. At a crash of leaves