(Bragg Saga, #2) Firestorm by Brenda Joyce

Author:Brenda Joyce [Joyce, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-09-25T11:27:57+00:00

“What did you put in it?” Brett asked suspiciously, rubbing his temple.

Peter smiled. “You’l feel like your old self in no time.” He left.

Brett sipped and met her gaze. This time he didn’t look away. Storm didn’t either. Final y he put his glass down. “Storm—about last night.”

She waited.

He fiddled with his knife. “I…ah…I was a bit drunk.”

“Yes.”

He shot a glance at her. “Did…ah…I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

She gave a slight shrug.

Another quick, shooting glance. “Look, what happened?”

She raised a brow, quel ing a smile. “What happened?”

His nostrils flared slightly. “Yes, dammit, what happened?”

“Why, Brett, you said so yourself, you were drunk.”

His eyes grew black as he leaned forward. “Dammit, don’t play games now of al times. Did we—Christ! I woke up in your bed, and I don’t

remember going there. Did we make love?”

She flushed despite herself. “You were in no shape to do anything except sleep.”

He was relieved, disappointed, and stil somewhat embarrassed, both for his lack of sobriety and for his lapse of memory. “I apologize for

burdening you with myself in such a state.”

Storm found herself thinking, I don’t mind, then almost gasped at her thoughts. He was doing it again, wheedling her into submission, and she

seemed powerless to stop him. She watched him push away his dessert plate. Knowing the meal was over, she felt herself tense with uncertainty. She

had to know. “Are you going out tonight?” The instant she said the words, she could have kicked herself for the sarcastic inflection she had put on the word

out.

He smiled slightly, a warmth that reached his eyes, making Storm uncomfortable, making her fluttery, and she frowned back. The smile broadened,

and he put down his coffee cup. When he spoke, his voice was seductive. “Does this mean you care?”

“No,” she threw back, “it means I’m curious.”

“Only curious?”

“Only curious.”

“If you make me a better offer”—his voice grew husky—“I’l gladly stay.”

Being naive, it took her a few seconds to understand. She blushed, knowing he would come to her bed if she invited him. “Do you need to…to do

it every night?”

Brett smiled. “Do what?”

She blushed harder. “Nothing,” she mumbled.

Brett fastened his eyes on her. She was wearing a simple skirt and blouse, modestly cut, revealing only the flat part of her upper chest. But her hair

was loose, with long curls waving over and around her breasts, and he had the strong urge to lift a strand, wrap it around his hand, pul her close. “Make

me an offer,” he said huskily.

Her lips parted as she stared back. Her hair was too beautiful to resist. He picked up a heavy, silken strand, coiled it slowly around his wrist, never

taking his eyes from her face. She didn’t move. The coil grew tight, and he used it as a leash, pul ing her head toward him. Her eyes widened. So did her

mouth.

His lips were soft covering hers, but there was nothing soft about the jolt that shook him from his head to his toes. The blast of desire had the

intensity of dynamite, frightening him with its overwhelming strength.

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