The Devil You Know. Laurie Paige

she was now employed. She hadn’t felt truly young and carefree in years, maybe not since her father had died the winter before she’d turned four.

      “Yes,” she’d answered. “You bother me in ways I don’t like. Because I seem to have no control over myself when you’re near.”

      He sucked in a strangled breath.

      She smiled wryly. “That got a reaction out of you.”

      Suddenly he was close, too close for her comfort range. “Was that all you wanted—to get a reaction from me?” he demanded with an intensity she’d rarely seen in him.

      He’d always kept them on a maddening level of casual amusement, as if he silently laughed at the attraction she was sure existed between them.

      “No,” she said honestly. “No, I want more.”

      She held her ground with an effort, refusing to look away from the gaze that was no longer cool, no longer amused. A tremor shook her as he came closer.

      “Be careful what you wish for,” he warned, his voice soft, the tone harsh.

      Once she’d wished her mother was alive, that her father would miraculously reappear, that Aunt Milly and Tink would come home, that the other orphans wouldn’t move on to high school and college and leave her behind…so many things she’d wished for. None had ever come true.

      “I gave up on wishes long ago,” she said and heard the echo of sadness in the words. “Except maybe for this.”

      Then she did a foolish thing. She kissed him.

      His arms swept around her and lifted her off her feet. Raising her legs, she wrapped them around his strong masculine frame while her arms encircled his shoulders. She held on as a storm of passion swept over them, through them, as strong in him as it was in her.

      It was wonderful and frightening, fulfilling and yet not enough, too many things for her to think about. She quit trying and simply let the hunger take her.

      When he slid his hand under her coat, then her sweater, she shivered with delight. His touch was cool at first, but soon warmed as he explored from her neck to her waist, stopping when he touched the top of her jeans.

      She pulled back and turned ever so slightly.

      It was enough of an invitation. He cupped one hand under her, lifting her onto the rail where cowboys once tied their horses. Now they were at eye level. He slipped both hands under the bulky sweater she wore, caressing upward until he came to her breasts. His thumbs stroked across the tips, which seemed ultrasensitive under the thin barrier of lace she’d worn that morning.

      Sensation plunged through her, as wild as a mustang fresh off the range. She hadn’t known longing could be like this, or that pleasure could be so strong it bordered on pain. She gasped his name.

      He kissed the word from her lips, pulled the breath out of her body with his mouth.

      But she didn’t need air now, only his touch. She was all dancing flames, burning wild and out of control across the windy plain that was her soul. Her heart was engulfed in the magic of his fiery embrace.

      And then he was gone.

      She stared in confusion as he pivoted and turned his back to her. “Adam?”

      From six feet away, he faced her, his expression so grim, so filled with disgust, her heart felt as if it had been turned into ice.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “That shouldn’t have happened. I never meant to let it go that far.”

      “It was wonderful. Why should you be sorry?”

      “Because I can’t afford to get involved with you.”

      She smiled because it was obviously too late to worry about that.

      He shook his head, fury in his eyes. “Because when it was over, we would still have relatives who are married to each other and that could be awkward.”

      “Why should it be over?” she challenged. “Maybe we’ll fall madly in love, marry and live happily ever after.”

      “It won’t happen,” he said, as if he had a crystal ball. “My work is dangerous. I can’t afford to lose my concentration by worrying about a family.”

      “I see,” she said, forcing a quietness into her manner that she was far from feeling. She’d learned long ago that men responded to calm and withdrew from tears.

      “There’s an attraction, a strong one,” he admitted, “but that’s as far as it goes. I’m not in love with you, and I’m not going to be.”

      His words echoed inside her where she felt as hollow as a cave. “You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

      Too proud to let him see the hurt, she smiled, jumped down from the railing and walked into the ranch house.

      Hearing her uncle Nick in the kitchen, she stayed in her room until she was totally composed, then she went to help him with breakfast. The next morning Adam was gone when she rose. His sister’s lack of surprise later that day told Roni he’d explained his plans to Honey, but not to her.

      Only her older brother had known of her feelings. Seth would keep a secret to the grave, so she didn’t have to fear pitying glances from the rest of the family.

      For the present, she only had to get through the rest of this weekend, then she could go home and privately lick the wounds that hadn’t quite healed.

      Observing Adam as he set his plate on the table and took the seat opposite her, she wondered at the madness that had seized them both that day. March madness, she thought, recalling Alice and her trip through Wonderland.

      “What’s funny?” Adam asked, shaking pepper generously over his scrambled eggs.

      Her whimsical smile grew. “I was wondering what it is about March that makes rabbits go mad.” At his quizzical glance, she added, “Don’t you remember the saying—mad as a March hare?”

      He replaced the pepper shaker on the table with a thump. “I was wondering when you would bring that up.”

      “I wasn’t referring to us.”

      “Like hell you weren’t.”

      She returned his glare, her stubborn nature coming to her rescue. At that moment she wanted to drive him mad with frustration as he tried to figure her out but couldn’t.

      She hoped.

      He caught her wrist. Surprised, she let him take her pulse, which was now pounding in her head. She counted the beats as he did. Dropping her hand, he picked up his knife.

      “What’s your diagnosis, doctor?” she inquired.

      His smile was challenging. “Fast and sassy.”

      She raised her eyebrows at that. “I have a sassy pulse?”

      He looked up from buttering a muffin. “You have a sassy mouth,” he said, his voice dropping to a deeper note. “And a sharp tongue that could very well get you into trouble one day. Your relatives should have warned you about that.”

      She had to laugh. “Well, actually, they have. Many times. Many, many times,” she said truthfully.

      After a second, he laughed, too.

      Now that he was in better humor, there was something she needed to know. She leaned toward him and spoke in a near whisper. “Are you here socially, or are you on a case?”

      He was silent so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally he gave a sardonic half smile. “Since you know the family, I suppose you’ll ferret out my secrets before the weekend is over. I’m on a case.”

      She ignored the relief she felt at this information. “Uh, what should I know about you? Do you have a cover?”

      “I’m in the equipment