when to talk peace rather than engage in war.”
Pride seemed to emanate from her. Her spine was straight, her slender shoulders square. There was no conceit or arrogance in the way her chin tipped upward; however, there was a good measure of old-fashioned self-respect. And Travis couldn’t help but admit that he found it alluring. Highly alluring.
Movement at the periphery of his vision had him darting a glance down the length of her body. Gravity tugged at the hem of her robe, parting the bottom facings to reveal a slice of her bronze-hued thigh. The sight of her finely honed muscle caused heat to curl in the bottom of his belly, his abdomen tensing with a sharp but pleasant pain. The sudden discomfort was a shock and the urge to suck in a lungful of air was overwhelming, but he successfully restrained it.
As inconspicuously as possible, he pressed his balled-up fist to his diaphragm, hoping to quell the constriction. Never before had he reacted to a woman in such a…a physical manner.
Women are trouble, a shadowy voice in his head warned.
Averting his gaze to the far corner of the room, he clenched his jaw. He didn’t need any dark warnings. He knew all about women. Knew the kind of wounds love inflicted. Had seen it in his parent’s marriage. His brother’s. Hell, he’d even experienced the pain firsthand back in college.
He wasn’t interested in becoming trapped in any woman’s web, no matter how beguiling it might seem.
He was just going to have to snuff out these feelings of attraction he felt for Diana. He could do it. Anytime—every time—he felt something even remotely resembling desire, he’d simply squash it. Like an irritating gnat.
Simple plans were the easiest to accomplish. And this plan couldn’t be more simple. He could do it. She wasn’t going to be here for long.
Apparently she’d finished her story. She was standing now, smiling at Jared and Josh. Then Diana turned that gorgeous smile on Travis, and it was as if he’d been struck between the eyes with a ball peen hammer.
“I’m going to say good-night,” she told him.
Her voice flowed over him—through him—like the mellifluous notes of some haunting melody. Again, his gut tightened.
This is crazy, he told himself. Damned crazy!
“I’ll leave you to tuck in the boys.”
And then she was gone.
You can fight this. You’re stronger than these idiotic feelings. Ignore this ridiculous attraction. Just ignore it.
But even as the thoughts marched drill-like through his brain, he unwittingly turned his head to inhale the faint, citrusy scent she’d left behind.
At last the house was quiet. Diana had brewed a pot of her own herb tea and was sitting in the all-season sunroom, looking out at the darkness, listening to the muffled quiet of the silent, wintry night. Pale moonlight cast a beautiful mélange of deep shadow and pearly glow among the thicket of pine and bare hardwood trees.
When she’d left Travis and his boys, Jared and Josh were both sleepy-eyed and ready for the sandman to take them on whatever dream adventure was in store for them this night. They were great kids, full of energy and imagination. They had delighted in the story she’d told of Half Moon, that much had been clear to Diana. But then, they were bright, inquisitive children. She knew she was going to enjoy spending time with them, aquainting them with their Kolheek heritage.
Travis had paid close attention to her story, too, Diana silently mused, lifting the mug to her lips and taking a small swallow of tea. Well, she hoped it was the legend that had held him so enthralled. His onyx eyes had latched onto her, making her feel as if he were staring into the very depths of her soul, and she’d had a hard time concentrating on the storytelling. She’d wanted to reach up and smooth her hair, fidget with the sash of her robe, but she’d forced her hands to remain in her lap. She hadn’t liked feeling like a silly, squirming schoolgirl. Thank heaven she’d been able to quell the nervousness Travis’s intent gaze had provoked in her. Soon, the training she’d received in the nearly lost art of storytelling had kicked in and she’d become engrossed in the past herself.
Still, when she thought about how his gaze had been riveted to her face, his attention focused on her every word…The memory caused shivers to careen down her spine like an icy mist, and she curled her hands around the heated ceramic mug to ward off the imagined chill. She tucked her bare feet under her on the padded seat of the wicker chair.
His interest had been in nothing more than the story, she firmly told herself. She refused to think anything else. He’d been captivated by Half Moon’s experience. Anyone would be fascinated by the history of such a great chief’s life.
But Travis’s gaze was so dark, so…She couldn’t quite put a name to what she saw in his eyes. Like secret windows. Seemingly filled with something deep and profound. Something mysterious. Haunting her. Calling to her.
Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she looked toward the ceiling. Why was she so intent on conjuring fantasies around this man? Her thoughts had seemed to have a mind of their own ever since she’d first laid eyes on Travis.
Head shaking slowly, she tried to clear her mind. She simply refused to allow her imagination to get the better of her.
But the thoughts persisted, refusing to be banished. What was it about him that provoked these sensuous notions running through her head? She’d had no trouble whatsoever deflecting the approaches made by other men since her divorce. She’d easily turned down all offers of dates, and she’d done so politely and tactfully so as not to hurt a single living soul. Yet here she was fancying that Travis Westcott—a man she barely knew—was staring at her…desiring her.
Desiring her? Is that where her thoughts were heading?
No. No. No. She couldn’t have that. She wouldn’t allow herself to be undermined by her own ridiculous imaginings. Travis had become caught up in her story. That was all—
“I’m glad to see you’ve made yourself at home.”
She looked toward the French door that led into the house. His frame was backlit by the soft light being thrown from the kitchen. He looked strong. Safe. Protective.
Shaking her head slightly, she shoved the impressions from her, but not before she realized this wasn’t the first time she’d been plagued by these same out-of-the-blue reflections. Ridding herself of the fanciful thoughts shouldn’t be very difficult. Especially when she knew that no man would ever make her feel safe and protected.
“I’m in the habit of drinking some chamomile tea before bed,” she told him, relieved that her voice sounded much less quivery than she felt inside. “So I made myself a pot.”
His dark head bobbed slightly. “I hope you don’t mind. I helped myself.” He lifted the mug he held in his right hand. “May I join you?”
“Please.”
This politeness, this formality, made her feel too awkward for words.
“Look, Travis, I’m awfully sorry that I’ve been foisted on you like this. I know you see me as an intruder in your home. Especially when, I’m sure, all you’re thinking about is getting to know the boys, letting them get to know you and becoming a family so you can enjoy the Christmas holiday together.”
