Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(20)

Concentrate on the view. Stick. To. The. View. “It’s beautiful here. I see now why you wanted to show it off.” Joanna vaguely waved with her free hand encompassing the vista before them. A sapphire river snaking through the woodland, the ridges of its gentle ripples sparkling with moonlight. Endless velvet of evening sky exploding with stars. Night-muted greens and browns of sprouting fields, quilted together in lopsided squares across the rolling dips of the valley. Stick to the view, my ass. I’d rather stick to him.

“Aye,” Grant said softly, pulling her closer while still holding her hand against his chest. “And yer the first ta see it from here.” He easily curled her into his embrace, shifting her so she stood in front of him with his arms hugging her back against him.

“Such beauty,” he whispered, the heat of his breath tickling just behind her ear. “Lethal beauty,” he repeated in a lower tone.

“Why lethal?” Joanna whispered, greedily giving in to the urge to melt into the divine expanse of muscle warming her back. No harm in being friendly. Gotta keep that contract. I can handle this. She closed her eyes and snuggled her ass against the delicious hard ridge that made her want to rip off Grant’s kilt and ride.

Can’t do that, she silently advised herself, but a hot wetness and insistent throbbing trapped in her running pants begged to differ.

“Lethal because…” He gently turned her, sliding his warm, callused hand along her jawline and lifting her face to his. “Yer a grave danger t’me, Joanna. One taste of ye and a man’s hunger is ruined for all others.”

“Oh…I don’t know,” Joanna said with a light teasing rub of her bottom lip back and forth across his. “I think I’m pretty harmless.” Damn. Me ruin him? How ’bout him ruin me? “Why don’t you sample me again and see?” she dared. I’ve got this. A kiss. No more. And the contract’s still safe. She ignored the voice of warning at the back of her mind, snuggling up tighter against Grant as her libido captured the ever-weakening warning voice and duct-taped its mouth. Just one kiss.

Grant needed no further coaxing. “Aye, m’sweetling,” he said, his voice a deep, rasping whisper. He lowered his head, tightened his arms around her, and covered her mouth with his, exploring and tasting until she thought she’d surely burst into flames.

This was no innocent, ordinary kiss. Grant’s urgency vibrated through her. He was a man starved, determined to devour her. He clutched her against him as though he feared she’d somehow disappear.

Stretching on tiptoe and arching against him, Joanna wrapped one leg around him and squeezed, grinding inward, wishing her clothes would evaporate and get the hell out of the way. One kiss, my ass. We’re gonna christen this platform properly.

Grant finally raised his head, his breath coming hard and fast as he stared down at Joanna with an unreadable expression on his face.

Joanna smiled. Grant MacDara was finally “winded.”

“Aye…quite lethal, I fear.” Slowly and ever so gently, he set her away from him. He was silent a long, painful few moments before he finally spoke. “Ye said ye had much work yet to do this evenin’. We’d best be gettin’ ye back to yer room, ye ken? I dinna wish t’have ye think ill of me.”

“You want to what?” Joanna blinked. Surely, she hadn’t heard him right. She stared at him, her entire body humming and ready to shift into overdrive. It had been a long dry spell since the last time she’d had a good romp with something that wasn’t battery operated. Grant wasn’t getting off the hook that easy—precious contract or not. “Would you mind repeating that and telling me why?”

“Aye, I would mind verra much,” Grant said, still backing away. “?’Tis no’ the proper time—yet. I dinna wish for ye t’think ill of me. Come. We’ll go back the way we came so we’ll come out closer to the bed-and-breakfast. I’ll see ye safe to yer room and bid ye good night.”

“Tell you what, I’ll make this easy for you.” Joanna jabbed her thumb in the direction Grant suggested. “You go that way. I’ll take the other direction.”

Grant shook his head. He glanced down at the ground with a heavy sigh, then lifted his chin and locked a scowling gaze on her. “Nay. I canna let ye run alone. Ye should ken that well enough by now.”

“You can and you will. Do you ‘ken’ that?” Joanna unzipped the running pack buckled around her waist. She held up a tiny black spray can, shook it in his face, then shoved it back in her bag. “I’ve got pepper spray. Trust me. I’m fine.” She zipped the waist pack shut with a frustrated jerk. Asshole alert. Maybe this is just the tip of the loser iceberg.

“Ye canna run alone.”

“The hell I can’t.”

He had no right. She turned and took off.

This race was on.





Chapter 6


“Damn woman.” Grant snarled out a frustrated growl as Joanna sprinted off. “Joanna!”

His bellow echoed out across the valley then faded away, replaced by the soft rustling of pine branches in the breeze. “Stubborn lass! Ye canna outrun me! Ye should ken that well enough!”

She had to have heard him. He waited a moment longer, listening, waiting for her to see sense and come walking back to him, head bowed in contrition. All he heard was the sound of his own breathing and the wind laughing at him through the trees.