Jan King © 2009
All rights reserved, The Wild Rose Press
Truth is, I’m getting a little tired of waiting. Bring it on, you know? I’m
tired of being afraid. I just want it over.”
“I’m always there if you need me, you know that.” His voice went husky. “For
help, protection, friendship.” He took a step forward. “Or whatever.”
A rollicking Celtic tune had been playing in the background. Now it ended, and a
harp blended in with the pipes, playing a soft, romantic ballad.
Rory met Brandon’s eyes and saw the invitation there. Before she could protest,
he moved his body closer to hers and drew her to him. Ignoring the stiffness of
her body, he rested his chin on her hair and swayed to the rhythm of the music.
“Relax,” he whispered against her hair. “It’s a dance, Rory, not an attempt to
seduce you.” He drew back and smiled into her eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t be
willing to try, at the slightest sign of encouragement from you.”