Surrender

Heat, sweet and warm, wrapped itself around her as Aimee recalled the fierce need she’d tasted in his kiss, the savage hunger she had seen in his blue eyes.

She swallowed hard, trying to banish the sensual images from her thoughts. Her body felt taut, achy. Even the thought of Peter’s lovemaking had her body responding effortlessly, like a priceless Stradivarius in the hands of a master musician. Of course, her physical response was all tangled up with her love for him.

The problem was, she really wasn’t sure whether Peter loved her. Even more disconcerting was wondering if he ever would. For the first time since she had embarked on her madcap plan to restore Peter’s faith in love, Aimee wondered if she had made a mistake. Had she been deluding herself by thinking Peter’s feelings for her ran deeper than mere lust?

She cut another glance to Peter’s face. The mouth that had given and taken so greedily only moments before was drawn into a frown. The line of his jaw was rigid, and his eyes were cool.

Recalling the fire in his eyes when he had attempted to punch Jacques over the other man’s innocent, though misconstrued, comment, Aimee could have sworn some deeper emotion had been at work. Maybe not love—at least not yet—but surely something close to it.

What else would explain that so un-Peter-like response? A smile tugged at her lips. Even Liza had been taken aback by Peter’s reaction to Jacques. The knot in Aimee’s stomach unfurled. Some of the tension eased from her body as her spirits and hopes lifted.

Peter looked at her then, his eyes narrowing. “Something funny?” he asked, his gravelly voice breaking the silence. His brow furrowed. It was a gesture Aimee had come to recognize as something he did when he was annoyed.

She smiled more widely, foolishly pleased that she had not been the only one disappointed by the interruption. “Oh, I was just wondering what Liza would have done if she had showed up five minutes later and the door had been unlocked, the way it usually is.”

“She’d probably have grabbed the first sharp object she could lay her hands on, preferably a sword, and run me through with it.”

Aimee laughed. “Don’t be absurd. Liza would never do such a thing.”

“Don’t bet on it. The woman’s never made a secret of the fact that she doesn’t like me. I guess I should take some consolation in the fact that she doesn’t seem to like your friend Jacques, either.”

Aimee couldn’t argue with that. It was true. Liza didn’t like Peter and, evidently, she didn’t care for Jacques. In truth, Liza didn’t like most men, nor did she trust any of them. And with reason. “She just doesn’t want to see me get hurt,” Aimee said defensively.

“What makes her think I’d hurt you?”

Aimee shrugged. “She knows how I feel about you. She also knows those feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

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