True Lies by Ingrid Weaver Page B

slid her fingers into his hair, feeling the soft curls caress her skin. “How can you want to cover this gorgeous hair with a hat?”
    He caught her wrists and brought her hands between them. “Emma, don’t. Please. I don’t want you to hate me.”
    “Hate you?” She looked into his eyes. His plain brown gaze was sparkling with vulnerability. “Whatever hang-up you have about your appearance, I don’t hate you, Bruce. I think, given enough time, I might even grow to—”
    “Don’t say any more!”
    She stared at him, hurt beginning to replace the warmth she had been feeling. “What’s wrong?”
    “This thing that’s happening between us is impossible. It shouldn’t have started. It can’t go anywhere. So please, don’t say anything you're going to regret later.”
    Her arms dropped to her sides and she took a step away from him. Of course, he was right, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to kiss him again. “I'm making a fool of myself,” she said finally.
    He swore suddenly and viciously in language that she never would have suspected the gentle accountant would know. In a heartbeat he closed the distance she had put between them and caught her chin in his hand. He looked at her for a long minute while a muscle twitched in his cheek. “I think the situation is making fools out of both of us,” he said cryptically.
    “Bruce, I—”
    He moved his forefinger over her lips. “I'm leaving Bethel Corners this afternoon.”
    She had only known him for three days. The disappointment she was feeling shouldn’t be this deep. “I thought you wanted me to take you up one last time.”
    “What I want has very little to do with this. You have a way of making me forget about my job, but I won’t let myself. I have to go back to work.”
    “You said you had a few more days.”
    “My vacation is over. I really have no choice, I have to leave. As much as I want to stay here and get to know you better, I can’t.” He traced the outline of her mouth as if committing it to memory. “I can’t. My job has to come first, Emma. It’s all I have in my life.”
    She was struck by the stark loneliness of his statement. “Why is that, Bruce?”
    “What?”
    “Your job is your life. Why? What happened to you that made you want to hide yourself like this?”
    Indecision flickered across his face and for an instant he seemed about to answer. Instead, he slipped his hand around to her nape and held her head steady while he touched his lips to hers in a quick, light kiss. He drew back, his eyes filled with regret.
    “Bruce?”
    “I want you to promise that you'll call my friend to help you with your brother.”
    “I don’t know.”
    He kissed her again, his mouth pressing harder until her lips parted. His tongue slid inside, a short, breathtaking plunge that lasted less than a second. Then he was nibbling at her lower lip in tiny, teasing tastes. “Say you will, Emma. Give the law another chance.”
    She closed her eyes and homed in on the pleasure he gave her, tilting her head so their mouths could mesh more closely. With a simple kiss he was doing things to her that she’d never felt before. She yearned for him. The tingling awareness that he’d inspired with no more than a touch had been merely an overture to this. The kiss after her tears had been an emotional reaction. This was so much more. It stirred long-forgotten dreams of having someone who would be there to hold her the next time she cried.
    She raised her arms to his shoulders, but he caught her wrists and roughly broke off the kiss.
    “I have to go.” His voice was deep, and as unsteady as his breathing.
    “Are you coming back?”
    The silence stretched out while he drew into himself. His expression became shuttered, his features slackened, and the slouch of his shoulders seemed to intensify. She had seen him do it many times before, so she shouldn’t have been annoyed. Yet she was. And she was confused, and frustrated.
    He released her and