Out of the Storm (Buckhorn, Montana #1) - B.J. Daniels Page 0,81

had she. Their daughters hadn’t had a father. There was no going back. Worse, she’d now jeopardized his life.

Shivering even with the comforter wrapped around her, she sat down next to him, pulling the thick fabric around her bare legs.

“Do you want me to turn up the heat?” he asked. She shook her head. “I told you last night that your daughters were fine. You can use my phone to call them if you need reassurance.”

She looked over at him. It was her undoing. She felt a rush of emotions that threatened to drown her. Tears sprang to her eyes, blurring his face. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

His expression seemed to crumble as he put an arm around her and pulled her into him. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sobbed out the words, “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to get you killed.”

He held her tighter. “You won’t. I’ve been living on borrowed time for years now. None of this is your fault.”

She shook her head. “This is not what I wanted.” She choked on the last of her sobs and pulled back to look at him. “If I’d known that I could be jeopardizing your life—”

“No,” he said and did the last thing she was expecting. He kissed her. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, and he was wrapping her in his arms as if he never wanted to let her go.

* * *

JON DIDN’T THINK he’d ever known the power of a kiss. Because he hadn’t kissed the right woman? Or because he couldn’t remember kissing this one? He felt a jolt that rocketed through him, stunning him, leaving him shaken. Hadn’t he warned himself about getting too close to this woman? He hadn’t planned to kiss her—far from it. But he’d looked into her beautiful green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and he’d lost it.

For so long, he’d told himself that he was content. That his hermit lifestyle was enough. Until she’d walked into his workshop. Even when he tried not to, he would remember looking up and seeing her silhouetted against the snowstorm outside. He’d caught his breath, feeling a punch to his chest. At the time, he’d told himself that she’d caught him by surprise, startling him. The surge in his pulse, the quickening beat of his heart, all had been nothing more than a reminder that he’d let his guard down, something he couldn’t do if he hoped to go on living.

But had he really cared about going on living before she’d walked into his woodshop? Wasn’t he merely existing at that point? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually felt alive. Until Kate.

This woman was the catalyst that had jarred him out of that mere existence and dragged him back into life. Kate and her stories about her beloved husband and her two precious daughters had made him yearn for a life he’d never known, even as he told himself she wasn’t talking about him. Even as he told himself it was too late for him even if she was.

She had made him feel, even made him hope, both dangerous for a man like him with a past like his. She’d upended his life even as he’d told himself that the best thing he could do was give the woman a wide berth for both of their sakes. But he hadn’t been able to do that once he’d realized that she was in trouble.

Now, he looked into all that green and knew there would be no coming back from this kiss. “Katie.” His voice broke as he pulled her to him, deepening the kiss as they clung to each other. What he felt was beyond need. He had to have this woman, knew his life would be worthless without her. The raging heat of that knowledge raced through his veins, stronger than desire, hotter than the passion that caught fire between them.

* * *

KATE KISSED HIM knowing that this was the way it was always supposed to be—whether this man was Danny or not. He was the man she wanted desperately as he trailed kisses down her throat and then lifted the hem of the T-shirt as he nuzzled her breasts. Her nipples ached, her center turning molten as if it had been years since she’d made love.

Shoving the fabric aside, his breath hot against her skin until he found the hard point of one breast, then the other. She groaned, arching