Quiet Walks the Tiger - By Heather Graham Page 0,18

and set them upon his own broad shoulders.

It was later in the day, after a bottle of wine and a half of the feast he had provided had been consumed, that Sloan contentedly made an admission to herself.

She was happy. Honest-to-God happy. Wesley had made no passes at her, but she felt herself drawn to him, at ease with him, comfortably so. He sat beside her, his compelling green eyes laughed into hers, his strong hand brushed over hers often, naturally. And she could feel him, his heat, his suppressed strength, his handsome frame so close to hers that it almost made her dizzy.

No, it was the wine making her dizzy. No, it was Wesley...

She blushed suddenly as they lay in lazy companionship, comfortably relaxed beneath the sycamore. She realized where her thoughts had been taking her.

She had been wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms...to feel his lips commanding hers...to lie beside him, flesh against flesh, and feel the mastery of his superb muscles...It was more than a blush, and she was glad his astute green eyes were idly upon the sky instead of her. Crimson splashed its way through her body, heating her from head to toe. What’s the matter with me? she demanded of herself. I’m not that sort of person!

But something else inside of her was crying out. What sort of a person. It had been so long...and she was a mature woman, a normal woman. It was only natural that she should feel the need for strong, masculine arms around her, revel in the faint and intoxicating aroma of after-shave and...and...simple maleness.

“Shall we?”

“What?” Startled, Sloan glanced at Wes. He was no longer watching the sky; he was watching her.

“Sleeping on me, huh?” he teased, knowing full well her mind had wandered. “Nice. Real nice. I take the girl out and put her right to sleep! I said, ‘Shall we take a walk?’”

“Oh—uh—yes, sure.” She smiled quickly. “A walk sounds nice.”

Wesley rose, moving with the agility that only an athlete could possess, and extended a hand to Sloan. She unwound her own legs and gracefully accepted his assistance up, her mind beginning to race.

Where was he leading her...?

It was a public park, she told herself coldly. He wasn’t leading her anywhere. But she began to feel a tinge of fear, and it had nothing to do with Wesley’s far superior strength or what he might attempt to do.

She was afraid of herself. The touch of his hand on hers was warm, commanding...inviting. She wanted to accept that invitation; she wanted to feel more and more of him...

Face it, she was attracted to him. Very attracted to him.

Which was a damned good thing! her mind hollered out even as she faced him with a smile on her lips and a guard carefully cast over her eyes. She was plotting to marry him, rationalizing the action by telling herself she was going to be a good wife. If she was going to be such a good wife, it was an awfully good thing she was going to be able to respond...

“How about the trail?” Wes queried, pointing off into the trees. “I think it offers a little privacy.”

“Wonderful...” Sloan heard herself saying weakly.

His arm was around her shoulder as they started off on the pine path and ambled into its delightful coolness. For a while they walked in companionable silence, speaking only occasionally in whispers as they pointed out the little gray squirrels that skittered in starts from tree to tree. Then they reached a small glen, hemmed in by the graceful fingers of pines, carpeted by beds of lush, green grass. Wesley sank down and pulled her beside him, face to face, half-prone on nature’s chaise.

Sloan’s nerves were as taut as piano wire. She was frightened; she was eager. Her pulses were racing in a crazy zigzag of yes and no while her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it must echo through the quiet of the surrounding forest. He was going to kiss her. She was no longer going to have to wonder about the feel of his corded arms because they were going to come around her...

But they didn’t, not right away. He smiled at her, an incredibly sensuous, lazy smile as he lay back in the earth’s soft cushion of the glen and openly relished the simple pleasure of watching her, the sea of his eyes languorously moving from the delicate lines of her profile—hesitating at the enticing