Witchcraft

searching out the delicate skin of her throat and his hands slipped around her waist to find the sash of the red robe. "Do you have any idea what you look like in that T-shirt?" Cavenaugh demanded hoarsely as he untwisted the knot of the sash. "What you felt like out there on the floor?"
    "I felt cold," she tried to say, struggling for some self-control. "You felt soft and warm and silky. Not cold at all. And you feel even warmer now. I knew it was going to be like this. For two months I've known-"
    " Cavenaugh , wait," she managed on a thread of sound and then she caught her breath as his hands moved inside the parted edges of the robe. "Why should I wait? You want this as much as I do."
    The classic male reason provoked her as nothing else could have done.
    Kimberly slapped at his hand, trying to step away from his compelling touch. "No, I'm not at all sure I want it. Everything's happening much too fast. I've been through a great deal this evening. I want time to think."
    "If I give you time to think, you'll come up with a thousand reasons why you shouldn't get involved with me." Kimberly gasped, both at the accuracy of his muttered analysis and at the feel of his palm as he pushed his hand up under the T-shirt to find her breast. "Ah, Cavenaugh , please ... " But the words were on a fine line between surrender and resistance and she knew instinctively that he realized it.
    Dimly she tried to tell herself that her strong physical reaction to this man was the result of the scare she'd had. Heaven knew she'd used that rationale often enough to introduce a sex scene in her novels.
    After a scene of action or violence adrenaline and excitement were flooding the nervous systems of her characters. It seemed natural to channel it into sex on occasion. But only within the confines of a book, she thought frantically. Surely that sort of thing didn't happen in real life! But how else could she explain her explosive reaction to Cavenaugh's touch? And then the electricity was restored without any warning. Cavenaugh lifted his head abruptly as lights blazed around him. Kimberly saw the flash of impatience and irritation in his gaze.
    "You must have had every light in the house on before you lost the electricity," he complained brusquely. "Another advantage to living alone," Kimberly tossed back a little breathlessly. "There's no one around to lecture me about my electricity bills. Or anything else." But the mood had been broken and they both knew it. Reluctantly, Cavenaugh let her slide from his grasp, the emerald fire of his eyes lingering on her flushed face. Kimberly busied herself retying the sash of the robe.
    He studied her trembling fingers and understood how shaken she was. A after hesitating a moment he decided to give her the out she needed. If he didn't, matters were going to be a lot more difficult in the morning.
    "I shouldn't have assaulted you like that," he told her quietly. "Hell, I was supposed to be the one protecting you, wasn't I?"
    "These things happen," she surprised him by saying in a very distant tone. "Do they?"
    He controlled the flicker of amusement her words caused. "Oh, yes. I use this sort of scenario all the time in my books. Scenes of action often precipitate scenes of ... of ... "
    "Passion?"
    "Exactly. All that pent-up adrenaline and stuff. Very useful. I just hadn't realized it worked that way in real life, too." Her smile was rather forced but it was there as she faced him with casual challenge. Cavenaugh felt a little stunned. "You've already got the whole thing neatly rationalized, haven't you?" "As I said, it was just one of those things.
    Chalk it up to an odd quirk in human nature." He struggled to restrain himself from taking hold of her and tossing her down on the bed.
    Cavenaugh was astonished at the force of the urge he felt to do exactly that. He'd show her the difference between one of her books and real life! Almost immediately, he realized the stupidity of that course of action. He had other, more immediate goals to work toward, he reminded himself grimly. After all, the most important matter at hand was to get her into the car without opposition in the morning. Humoring her now might make that task simpler. He smiled crookedly. "I'll accept your analysis of the situation. From my point of view, I can truly apologize for my actions. I appreciate your understanding." There was an odd look of relief in her eyes as if she knew she had just come perilously close to an infinitely