Once and Again - By Lauren Dane Page 0,62

things? Oh, yesss.”

He opened his home. She stole his heart…and his money.

Trespass

© 2011 Meg Maguire

Many would envy veterinarian Russ Gray’s life in rural Montana’s wide-open spaces. Russ calls it lonely. In a country with more cattle than eligible females, he doesn’t envision his seven years as a widower ending anytime soon. Until a mysterious woman lands at his door in the dead of night, riddled with buckshot.

Sarah Novak hates lying to such a kind, handsome man, but if an upstanding citizen like Russ finds out why she’s been three weeks on the run, he’d surely turn her in. Yet she can’t refuse his offer to let her stay until she heals, no questions asked.

From the start they fall into an easy companionship, then teasing flirtation flares into an unexpected intimate connection. But no matter how right it feels in his arms, guilt tugs at Sarah’s heart. Russ doesn’t deserve what she must do next.

When Russ wakes up with an empty bed—and an empty wallet—his first instinct isn’t to call the cops…it’s to catch her and find out why his urge to protect her overshadows all reason. Because he’s had a taste of real passion, and he’s not letting it slip away without a fight.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Trespass:

Sarah rose first and cleared Russ’s yolk-stained plate. He let her do the dishes and start a fresh pot of coffee, turning back to his newspaper while she puttered. She did an overly thorough job of wiping down the counter, watching him through the open space in the wall that separated the kitchen and den. He had a dab of yellow at the corner of his mouth, sleep-mussed hair glowing gold at the edges from the morning sunshine. She glanced at the pocket watch before her on the ledge and the antique medicine bottle beside it, its thick, cloudy glass the same gray-green as Russ’s eyes.

“Tonight,” she began, gaze still locked on the glass.

He looked up, attentive. “Yeah?”

She remembered how he’d felt when he’d slid in behind her on the couch, that comforting, forceful combination of need and demand. She felt prematurely like a cad. “I need to sleep alone tonight.”

His attention shifted to the window and he nodded. “Sure. Of course.”

She set the sponge down and rinsed her hands, drying them on her jeans as she walked over to him. “I don’t mean I don’t want to…you know. Mess around.”

“No?” That look again—adorable, desperate hope.

She shook her head, stepping close enough to put her fingertips to his shoulders. “No, I’d like that, if you would.”

He nodded, setting a hand at her waist. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“But afterward, I just want to be alone, on the couch, so I can catch up on the sleep I’ve been missing. I told you I’m kind of restless.”

“Yeah.”

“Actually,” she added, as though she’d just thought of it. “You don’t have any sleeping pills, do you? Or even like nighttime flu medicine? I know that sounds pathetic—”

“No, it doesn’t. And I think I do. I’ll check this afternoon.”

Worries swirled around in her head and she fumbled for a way to get the information she most needed from him. “Cool, thanks. I didn’t know if you only had animal sleeping pills lying around…”

Russ laughed. “I’m sure I can find you something a bit gentler than what I’d use on a horse.”

What about a dog? She dropped the baiting for the time being, too close to sounding suspicious. “Anyway. You know when you want to sleep but it’s just not happening?” She thrust her lip out in a frustrated pout.

“I thought that’s what whiskey was invented for.”

She smiled and ran her fingers through his messy hair, down his stubbly cheek. “Anyhow, thanks. But for now, chores. Then dinner, then who knows.” She grazed a conspiring hand over his neck. “But after that I’m catching up on my beauty sleep.”

Russ looked as if he was resisting the urge to turn that comment into a corny flirtation. Instead he stood and put his hand in her hair the way he seemed to love doing, leaned in and kissed her. Mouth closed, eyes closed, warm lips holding in a faint noise, a grunt or sigh.

He let her go and she stared at his chin, a little drunk from him. She reached up to wipe the yolk from beside his smiling lips.

“Okay. Put me to work.”

An hour later Sarah could confirm that shampooing a horse was indeed very much like washing a car, right down to the hose she was using to