Tears of the Renegade by Linda Howard Page A

knew that this wasn’t going to be easy. She drew a deep breath to brace herself, then cut the ignition off and got out of the car.
    Walking up the steps was like running a gauntlet; he leaned against the door frame and watched her in nerveracking silence, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked huge, shenoticed; perhaps it was his clothes. He wore only a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt, and scuffed brown boots on his feet. The short sleeves of the T-shirt revealed his brawny forearms, sprinkled with dark hair and corded with veins that pulsed with his hot, life-giving blood. From the way the thin cotton clung to his torso, she knew that the image she’d had of his nude body had been remarkably accurate, and her mouth went dry. He was lean and hard and muscular, and his chest looked like a wall.
    His glacial eyes swept her from her neat spectator pumps to her head, where her dark hair had been swept into a simple chignon. “Slumming?” he drawled sarcastically.
    She controlled the quiver that wanted to weaken her legs, and ignored his opening salvo. “I want to make a deal with you,” she said firmly.
    Amusement, and a savage satisfaction, glinted in his eyes. He stepped away from the door and waved her inside with an exaggerated bow. “Come inside, lady, and let’s hear what you have to offer.”

Chapter Four
    T heir steps echoed hollowly as she entered the cabin and he followed, closing the door behind them. The smell of newly cut wood struck her nostrils, and fine particles of sawdust floated through the air. Through an open door she could see a couple of sawhorses with a length of wood lying across them, and she realized that she had interrupted his work. She wanted to apologize, but the words refused to leave her thickened throat. To give herself time to recover, she looked around the empty cabin; despite the improvements, it still had an atmosphere of being old and still felt incredibly solid anyway. The new windows, large and airtight, let the light in but kept the damp chill out. An enormous fireplace, laid with logs but unlit, gave the promise of cozy fires. The open door to the right of the fireplace indicated the only other room, and except for it, she could see all of the cabin from where she stood. Beneath her feet, the floor was pine, treated and polished, then left alone to glow with its natural golden color. In spite of her nervousness she was charmed by the old cabin, as if she could feel at peace here.
    He stepped past her and leaned down to strike a match and touch it to the old newspaper in the fireplace. It flamed with tongues of blue, which quickly caught the kindling, and soon the fire was licking at the big logs. “I don’t feel the cold muchwhile I’m working,” he said by way of explanation. “But since you’ve interrupted me…”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling incredibly awkward.
    There was nowhere to sit, but he looked perfectly comfortable as he wedged one strong shoulder against the mantel and gave her a sardonic look. “Okay, lady, you wanted to talk turkey. Talk.”
    He wasn’t going to give an inch. She didn’t waste time pleading with him to be reasonable; she lifted her chin and plunged in. “Have you filed charges yet?”
    â€œI haven’t had time today,” he responded lazily. “I’ve been working here.”
    â€œI…I want to make you an offer, if you’ll agree not to file charges.”
    His ice-blue eyes sharpened and raked down her slim, tense body. “Are you offering yourself?”
    The thought jolted her, and she wondered what would happen if she said yes. Would he take her now, on the bare floor? But she said, “No, of course not,” in a low voice that disguised her reaction.
    â€œPity.” Nonchalantly, he surveyed her again. “That was the one offer you could have made that might interest me. It might have been fun to