Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Karen Leabo Page B

them ebbed slightly.
A little defensive, Vicky?
He knew she wasn’t totally lacking in experience. No woman with that kind of fire could ignore the pull of her own sexuality for too long. But he wondered if any man had ever fully explored her depths and kindled that fire into a raging inferno. He’d like to. He’d really like to.
    “Amos would kill you,” she said, almost as if she’d read his thoughts.
    “Yeah, I know,” he agreed reluctantly.
    “And I don’t intend to be your two-week fling, have you got that?”
    “Loud and clear.” When he really thought about it, he couldn’t imagine Victoria being anyone’s fling. Flings were intended to be enjoyed and forgotten, and she was simply not a forgettable woman.

SIX
    Victoria let the lukewarm shower spray prod her out of her morning grogginess. She hadn’t slept well, what with unfulfilled urges humming through her body and self-recriminations echoing in her restless mind. She’d hoped that what she and Roan had done the night before wouldn’t seem so awful by morning’s light.
    But it did.
    She was mortified that she had let herself get so carried away. Whatever Roan had intended with his kiss, she’d been looking for comfort. He was the only one who understood what she’d been through the past two days, and after the brutal teasing she’d been subjected to, she’d felt a peculiar kinship with him. He hadn’t criticized or condemned or complained. And during that one weak moment, when he’d captured her lips with his, she’d wanted to dissolve in that solace.
    And something else. Ever since she’d met Roan she’d sensed that something more serious lay beneathhis brash, irreverent exterior. As their lips met and their breaths mingled, she’d felt an odd sensation of brushing up against the real Roan, a man of depth and complexity and, yes, even tragedy.
    Within seconds, all ordered thought had vanished as her body came alive. Swept into a maelstrom of pure sensation, she’d dismissed all thoughts of what was proper or prudent. Somehow, perhaps because of the overwhelming nature of the kiss, she’d realized that Roan was no safe haven, but the embodiment of danger itself. She’d dug deep into herself and found the presence of mind to issue a small protest.
    To his credit, he’d responded immediately, releasing her, allowing her to pull away. She’d grabbed on to that concession with both hands, letting anger set in. It wasn’t exactly fair to be angry with Roan. He hadn’t done anything so terribly wrong. But the harsh words had served their purpose—to erect a strong, impenetrable barrier between them so that nothing like that would happen again.
    The situation wasn’t hopeless, she decided. Roan had charmed her into letting her guard down, that was all. The wisest course of action would be to retreat to a more formal relationship. With that decision made, she felt slightly better.
    She shivered as she stepped out of the shower and vigorously began drying herself. After pulling on white jeans and a thin lilac sweater, she plopped down on the end of the bed, turned on the Weather Channel, and began the laborious task of combing the tangles out of her long hair.
    The forecast surprised her. She had really thought the past two days of violent weather would be the last she would see for a while; only so much atmospheric energy was available for a storm to draw on. But it appeared the storms weren’t completely played out. The map showed a red splotch over Kansas, indicating potential for tornadic activity.
    “Ha!” she said aloud, turning on her laptop computer. Amos had been right about Kansas. She pulled up the latest data, made some calculations, colored a new map, then picked up the phone and dialed Roan’s room number. This was one show she wasn’t going to be late for.
    “Hmph?” Roan answered. The sound of his sleep-scratchy voice brought an unexpected tightness to her chest. There was something so damnably intimate about talking