Midnight Storm (The Warriors) by Laura Taylor

Author:Laura Taylor [Taylor, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Jay Media
Published: 2011-08-19T06:00:00+00:00

7

Despite Dev’s repeated assurances that he wasn’t in the least concerned about the destruction of his personal possessions, Jessica still felt responsible for his loss. He would have fared far better had Monica lodged him in the inn, despite her daughter’s predictable reaction to finding her former lover ensconced one floor below her private quarters.

They returned to the storm cellar just seconds before the sky opened up with yet another battering downpour. The violent winds from earlier in the day returned as well, forcing them to close and latch the cellar doors.

"I really will speak to my insurance man about reimbursing you for your clothes, books, and whatever else you’ve lost," she promised as she placed several candles in draft–free locations around the cellar.

"Jessica?"

She turned and found him standing close by, a hard look on his face. "Yes?"

"I believed you the first time, so please shut up about my clothes. You’re beating the subject to death."

Startled, she pointed out, "There’s no need to be rude."

"I’m not being rude. I just don’t want to hear any more about my wardrobe. We’ve got more important concerns at the moment. Besides," he said, pointing to a stack of items he’d placed atop a small bookcase, "my cell phone and my computer are within reach."

Aware that he was right, she flushed. Then, she busied herself with lighting the candles. She tensed a few minutes later when she heard a heavy object bounce off the closed cellar doors and then slam into the exterior of the inn. The tinkle of broken glass followed. Feeling helpless to stop the destruction of her home and business, Jessica closed her hands into fists of frustration.

Dev came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. She sank back against his body, and a new and different kind of tension filled her when he lowered his head and nuzzled the side of her neck. She surrendered to the feel of his muscular chest, flat belly, and sturdy thighs pressed against the back of her body. Once again, she felt cared for and protected. And, once again, she hungered for the man she loved.

"Relax," he urged. "This storm isn’t going to end anytime soon, but we’re in a safe place, we’ve got enough food to hold us over for a couple of days, and we have a warm place to sleep. A lot of other people probably aren’t as lucky."

She turned in the circle of his arms. "Sorry, but I’m a little wound up. I hate feeling helpless or useless."

He smiled and tunneled his fingers into the thick, dark hair that framed her face. "How about wound tighter than an eight–day clock? I know it’s tough watching Mother Nature destroy eight years of hard work, but you can’t stop what’s happening out there, even if it is bugging the hell out of you."

She smiled. "You have an alarmingly accurate fix on my personality defects."

"Facets, not defects. Have you ever heard me find fault with the ways in which you deal with stress?"

"Too many times to count," she complained.

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