Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,12
Ottawa, the difficulty in renting a car at the small-town airport, the emotional impact of the funeral, that surreal pilgrimage to the gravesite in the fog, and, finally, this enforced cohabitation with the person she detested most on the face of the earth. It made the warm cocoon of room and bed welcome at an early hour. She was turning page twelve in her novel when the book slipped from her hands and she slept.
She awoke with a start. Surprised that she’d been asleep, she glanced at the bedside clock radio. Midnight. With a sigh she picked up the book. She was trying to find her place when a sound from somewhere in the Lodge caught her attention. Someone or something was moving around inside the building.
A bear! A ravenous, fresh-out-of-hibernation bear! But a bear would have had to break glass to get in. She’d have heard it. Whatever it was, it was being stealthy, moving quietly out of the kitchen (she guessed from the direction of the sound), across the dining room, into the living room, and probably—her mind clicked into gear—toward the office. A robber looking for money in the obvious place! A miserable lowlife out to steal from her Gramps.
Allison recalled her grandparents had always provided a flashlight in each guest room. Incensed, she pulled one from the drawer of her nightstand and snapped off the bedside lamp.
She hesitated a few seconds, until her eyes became accustomed to the dark; then, heart pounding, she slid out of bed and tiptoed to the door. Without turning on the flashlight, she eased out into the corridor. The rain and fog must have cleared. Ahead she could see moonlight streaming across the dining room.
As she tiptoed forward on stockinged feet, she saw a thin shaft of light stretching out into the living room from the all-but-closed office doorway. She’d been right! It was a burglar, a bit of scum who couldn’t wait until Jack Adams was cold in his grave to make his move.
Outrage overcame apprehension. She’d teach this miserable trash to violate her Gramps’ possessions!
Holding the foot-long flashlight above her head as a club, Allison moved cat-quiet across the shadowy room. At the office door she paused, every drop of adrenaline in her body ready to charge.
She couldn’t see the person inside. He or she was hidden by the nearly closed door. The last ounce of sane logic she possessed tried to tell her it would be best to get a look at her opposition before she attacked. It failed. Yelling like a banshee, she kicked open the door and leaped on the figure bending over a computer connection.
“Hey!” As the pair tumbled to the floor, Allison recognized his voice.
His arm, thrown up and back in a reflexive gesture of defense, knocked the flashlight from her hand.
“Sneaking, underhanded bastard!” She tried to land a blow against the side of his head with a clenched fist.
Feline swift, he caught her wrist and pulled her arm to her side. Her left hand he’d already immobilized behind her back. He was too fast for any of the self-defense moves she’d learned.
“Let me up, you sniveling piece of trash!” She was sputtering as she lay trapped beneath his body. “How dare you go through Gramps’ office! It’s private! It belongs to his family! You have no right here, you money-grubbing gigolo!”
She glared up into his golden brown eyes as they narrowed into predatory slits. Her breath clogged in her throat. I’ve gone too far. Oh, God, this time I’ve gone too far.
“Money-grubbing gigolo? Is that what you think I am?” He was breathing hard. “Okay, I’ll give you a sample of what I have to offer and let you decide if the ladies are getting good value for their dollar!”
His mouth came down over hers in a sudden, all-out kiss, his body covering hers with its hard, virile length.
“No!” She tried to protest, but he held her fast, probing tongue muffling her words, body moving over hers in a slow, primitive motion that made her react as she wouldn’t have believed possible seconds earlier.
In a flash she spun away into a realm of sensual intensity she’d never known existed. Logic, common sense, and animosity all dissolved like ice in a microwave.
The man personified earthy virility, feral and elemental as the wilderness that surrounded them. Her needs, basic and erotic, overwhelmed her, and she was lost to his kisses, his undulating body that promised more, so much more. When he freed her arms, they