Uncut Bundle

Her plea was a torment. Somehow, he managed to shake his head.

“You think this is what you want, but it isn’t.”

“Damn you, Cameron.” The words were harsh, but her voice shook and tears glittered in her eyes. “Don’t you want me?”

Cam wrapped the caftan around her and drew her into his arms. Holding her close, he rocked her against him.

“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m everything you said I was. Every name you called me.” He lifted her face, stroked her hair back from her temples. “You deserve someone better.”

“No! Don’t say that. You—”

“Just let me hold you, baby. Come on. Lean against me.”

The seconds crept by. He could feel her body softening against his. Finally she sighed.

“I understand. Girls talk. Some of them say—they say vir

ginity is a burden.”

“The hell it is!” He clasped her shoulders and held her just far enough from him so he could look into her eyes. “It’s a gift, Salome. That’s why—” His voice roughened. “That’s why I just want to hold you in my arms. Why I wish to God I could take back all the things I accused you of.”

“You believed Asaad. I don’t blame you. He made it all sound logical.”

“I should have seen the truth right away. You risked your life, warning me that he was setting me up.” He paused. “How did it happen?” He felt a tremor go through her and silently cursed himself for asking her to relive what were surely ugly memories. “Never mind, baby. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right. I want to tell you. Maybe saying it all out loud will make it seem less real.” Leanna swallowed dryly. “I was with a dance troupe on a tour through eastern Europe. One day, during rehearsal, a couple of the other girls and I stepped outside the theater for some air. A van pulled up. Some men jumped out. They grabbed us and—and stuffed us into the back. I thought they were going to kill us but one girl said—she said they were slavers and—and—”

“And,” Cam said grimly, “she was right.”

Leanna nodded. “Asaad bought me. He was going to—he was going to use me but then you showed up. He told me he’d set me free if I—if I did things with you. I knew he was lying but you were an American. And I figured—”

“You figured I was riding in on a white horse to save you,” he said gruffly, “except it turned out I was just an American version of Asaad.”

“No!” She pulled back in his arms and shook her head. “You’re nothing like him, Cameron. You saved my life. If you hadn’t come to Baslaam, if you hadn’t escaped and taken me with you…”

He smiled. “I think you’ve got that backward, sweetheart. You escaped. I just went along for the ride.”

She smiled, as he’d hoped, and some of the darkness left her eyes.

She was one amazing woman, his dancer.

If only they’d met half a world away. At a party. If only they’d met in a way that hadn’t vividly reminded him of why he didn’t deserve a woman like her.

Maybe it was just as well.

Another time, another place, he’d have said to hell with gallantry or whatever it was coursing through him right now. Salome was beautiful and bright, qualities he couldn’t have resisted. He’d have gone into full pursuit. Sent her flowers, taken her to dinner, kissed her at her door, whispered that he hated to leave her and she’d have invited him in.

They’d have gone to bed, he’d have said all the right things except the thing he knew better than to believe in. The thing she deserved.

After a few weeks or maybe a couple of months, he’d have walked away. It was all very civilized and the women who moved in and out of his life knew the rules.

Salome didn’t, and he’d be damned if he’d be the man who introduced her to the game.

He just wished she didn’t feel so wonderful in his arms.