Montan a Wildfire

Her heart skipped as she turned her head, her gaze fixing on the masculine fingers hooked over her shoulder. Slowly, she traced his thick wrist to where the smooth copper flesh dipped beneath the cuff of his sleeve. Her gaze ran over the muscled forearm outlined beneath the clinging blue flannel, stopping only once she'd reached his enticingly familiar shoulder and the inky hair resting against it.

Amanda inhaled deeply. Her eyes flickered closed as she savored the warm, earth-spice scent that belonged to Jake Chandler alone. On its release, she said softly, "I was just coming to see you."

"I know."

She hadn't heard him move, though he must have, because she suddenly felt the raw male heat of him seeping through her cloak, her bodice, her chemise. His warmth caressed her skin, and Amanda shivered. Though she couldn't see where he stood, she could feel it; if she turned fully around, her gaze would know exactly where to go to seek his out.

"I've been watching you," he said, and his next step put his chest into sizzling contact with her back. "I know what you were doing, what you've been thinking."

"No, you couldn't possibly," she said, and meant it. Jake couldn't know what she was thinking. He fancied her a lady, and ladies did not entertain the hot, lustful thoughts that had been churning in Amanda's mind tonight.

His fingers tightened on her shoulder. "Do you doubt me, princess?"

"I—no, I don't. If you say you know my thoughts, I—I believe you."

"But do you believe in me, Amanda Lennox? That's the real question."

Amanda swallowed hard, and leaned back against him. Jake's left arm coiled about her waist. He hauled her close, pinning her against his chest. She let his long, solid body hold her upright, because she could no longer do it herself.

Jake was here. She could feel his heart drumming a frantic tempo against her shoulder blades. He'd come to her, come for her. What was there not to believe in?

"Yes, Jake, I—"

The words trapped in her throat when, without warning, he spun her around. Her skirt whipped around her ankles, and his hands settled on her shoulders. He held her at arm's length when she would have sagged against him, molded herself into him.

"I told you once I'd know if you lied to me," he said, his tone low, strained. "Do you remember that?"

She nodded weakly.

"Good. Now look me in the eye, Amanda. I need to see your face when you tell me whether or not you believe in me."

She didn't, couldn't. One of his hands came away from her shoulder. The warm, calloused crook of his index finger settled beneath her chin, gently tipping her face up.

Her gaze had settled on his throat and the pulse leaping erratically beneath the copper skin there. Her attention slowly lifted, sweeping over his square jaw, his sensuously carved lips, his high-bridged nose. Swallowing hard, she met his gaze.

The firelight cast half of his face in a soft orange glow. The other half was in shadows—chiseled and sharp. The muscle in his cheek was pulsating. Amanda had expected that. What she hadn't expected was the light of desperation she saw sparkling in his smoky silver eyes. That stunned her.

"Tell me," he urged. "Tell me you believe in me, pri

ncess... more than I believe in myself."

She nodded as, quite simply and softly, she said the words his eyes said he ached to hear. In her heart, she knew she had never spoken truer words in her life. "I do, Jake. I believe in the man you are, in the man I know you can be. I always have."

His lashes flickered down for one moment of mingled pain and pleasure. Then the black fringe swept up, and Amanda was captured by eyes that were dark with a gratitude that tore her up inside... and with a desire that set her blood on fire.

Gently, he cupped her face in his palms and pulled her face close to his. Leaning his body into hers, he rested their foreheads together. His breath puffed hotly over her cheeks and chin. His gaze burning into hers, he rasped, "There's something about you, Amanda Lennox. I don't know what it is, but it draws me. I can't stay away. I know I should. I know it would be better for us both if I did. Safer. But... ah, God, I can't do it."

"I don't want you to stay away from me, Jake."

His lashes were at half-mast, hooding the smokey gaze that burned over her mouth. His attention locked with hers, as though the deep green velvet of her eyes was his lifeline. "Don't say that. Don't even think it. Can't you see? I'm no good for you, lady."

"Let me be the judge of that."

His forehead ground against hers when he shook his head. "No. You aren't objective enough to know what's best for you."

Her gaze narrowed. "Oh, I see. And I suppose you are?"

Jake hesitated, then shook his head again. "No. When it comes to you, I'm not objective at all. I'm here now, aren't I? That should prove something to you."