The Doctor's Runaway Fiancée. Cindy Kirk

it as a magical, beautiful place.”

      There was the barest flicker in his eyes. Sylvie might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at him. He’d made the connection. Remembered that she’d come here with him. They’d taken the trip on a whim, shortly after they started dating. He taught her to ski and how to throw a proper snowball.

      It was during that trip to Wyoming that she’d fallen in love with Jackson Hole and with him.

      Silence descended again. This time neither of them made the effort to break it.

      He stepped to the side when she reached the cobalt blue door of the Mad Batter and pulled out her key. Sylvie still wasn’t certain why she’d brought him here, why she hadn’t simply insisted they conclude their business on the street.

      You owe him.

      “Spartan digs.”

      She turned at the sound of the voice and realized that Andrew had stepped inside what she referred to as “the order room.” Not much larger than a deck of cards, it contained a small round table and two chairs.

      “What happens if you have more than one visitor?” Even as he spoke she saw his gaze checking out the gleaming vinyl floor in a black-and-white checkerboard pattern and the cherry-red cushions on the chairs. Bright spots of color in an otherwise unimpressive area.

      “Someone has to stand.” Sylvie flashed a quick smile. “Plus, it seems to motivate the customer to decide quickly on what they want.”

      “Where are the ovens?”

      It appeared Andrew expected a tour. Well, that wouldn’t take long. Not when the entire space she rented was smaller than his walk-in closet.

      She stepped inside the kitchen, unable to stop the flush of pride at the sight of the commercial ovens and stainless countertops. Even the air smelled clean. And it was all hers. Hers and the First National Bank of Jackson’s.

      “Impressive.” He sounded as if he really meant it. “You mentioned you live here, too. Where’s your apartment?”

      “Apartment is much too glamorous a term for where I live.” Sylvie gave a little laugh as he followed her through yet another door.

      Inside the postage-stamp-sized room sat a twin bed—sans headboard—pushed against a wall. The only other furniture was a microwave on a stand and a straight-backed chair that had clearly seen better days.

      She swept a hand to encompass the small area. “Home, sweet home.”

      Though he was obviously trying to hide his shock, he wasn’t pulling it off.

      Andrew cleared his throat. “This is...all of it?”

      “No, there’s more.”

      The tight stiffness in his shoulders eased. He smiled. “I knew this couldn’t be all.”

      “There’s a three-quarter bath through there.” She gestured with her head through yet another door. “So you see, it isn’t quite as small as it appears.”

      Confusion blanketed his face. He cocked his head and stared. “Why do you live like this?”

      “The rent in Jackson Hole is crazy.” He wanted honesty? She’d give him honesty. “Besides, small has its advantages. This spot is warm and dry and...cozy.”

      And beats sleeping in the van, she added silently.

      His lips quirked up in a reluctant smile. “You always did have an optimistic nature.”

      Sylvie blinked. She couldn’t recall anyone ever telling her that before. Was it true? Or was it just one more thing Andrew had seen in her that simply wasn’t there?

      She suddenly was conscious of just how tiny a space surrounded them and that she and Andrew were alone in this cozy space.

      So close that she inhaled the scent of him. The cologne he wore was subtle and expensive. From day one, the enticing fragrance had the power to make her insides quiver. But how he smelled was only a very small part of what had drawn her to him.

      The way he looked would have captured any single woman’s interest. She loved the way his hair glimmered, looking as soft as mink’s fur in the fluorescent lighting. She remembered how it had felt to slide her fingers through the thick strands. Maybe because he always looked so impeccable, she’d made it a point to mess up the stylish cut when they made love.

      Naked, in bed, with his hair all tousled and a hint of a five o’clock shadow, he hadn’t looked like a doctor or the heir to the third-largest sporting-goods company in the United States.

      During those glorious times, it had felt as if they were on equal footing. It had been easy to forget all the ways they were different.

      Too easy.

      “Sylvie.”

      His voice was low and husky, filled with an emotion that brought a warmth to the single word.

      She looked up and realized Andrew was right. There. Less than a foot separated them. He stood so close she could see the dark perimeter that surrounded the smooth gray of those gorgeous eyes framed with long, thick lashes. So close the scent of his cologne teased her nostrils, transporting her back to a time when they were happy and everything seemed possible.

      “I told myself I wouldn’t do this,” he muttered.

      Her heart was pounding so hard Sylvie felt light-headed. She inclined her head in the merest of movements. “Do what?”

      The words sounded breathy, which was exactly how she felt at that moment...breathless.

      “This.” He jerked her to him and covered her mouth with his.

      * * *

      When Andrew thought of his best attributes, well disciplined came immediately to mind. He’d been a sensible child and had grown up to be a sensible adult. In the important matters of his life, he prided himself on carefully weighing the pros and cons of various options before making a decision.

      Then he’d met Sylvie Thorne, and sensible no longer seemed to be a word in his vocabulary.

      He pulled her up against the length of his body as he ravished her mouth. It was as if he’d been in a desert the past three months and had finally found water.

      Warning flags popped up one after the other in his head, but Andrew paid no heed. The need rushing through his body was too strong to deny.

      He’d intended for the kiss to be brief. Unfinished business tied up nice and tight. But once his mouth had found hers, Andrew forgot how to think. He reveled in the familiar feel of her slender body with the small breasts pressed against him. When that full, sweet mouth opened to his probing tongue, Andrew breathed a prayer of thanks.

      It was as if ninety-five days had melted away and all he knew, all he wanted to know, was in his arms. Everything seemed right in his world now.

      When her hands stole around his neck and her fingers slipped into his hair, desire exploded like fireworks over the Charles River.

      Her moan, a low sound of want and need, only further fueled the fire burning in his blood. Andrew continued to kiss her, sweet, gentle kisses at first, then long, passionate ones that soon had his heart hammering against his chest wall.

      The taste of her was so familiar that he forgot all that separated them and let himself simply go with the moment. He slipped his hand under her shirt and stroked the smooth warm skin of her back. They continued to kiss until he felt drugged with emotion.

      Easing his hands up her sides, he stopped just under her breasts. When she wiggled slightly in frustration, he cupped the small mounds and then teased the nipples to hard peaks with his thumbs.

      Her head fell back. As she moaned with pleasure, satisfaction rippled through him.

      Lifting her loose-fitting shirt, he leaned over and covered the tip of one breast with his mouth.