Untamed

Despite her best intentions, the vow was broken as soon as she drifted off to sleep.

IT WAS THE SOUND that woke her. Tara froze, willing her body to remain absolutely still while her mind, lagging behind, struggled to leave the misty, sensual dream.

Her heart was pounding so hard and so fast in her ears she had to strain to hear the sound. But there it was, a strange scratching noise at the window that reminded her of a movie she’d seen on late-night cable last week. Dracula, she remembered, had made that same sound against the glass just before flying into his victim’s bedroom.

Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself. That was only a movie.

She slipped from between the tangled sheets. Although she assured herself that it was only her over-stimulated imagination, she refrained from turning on the bedside lamp for fear of drawing attention to herself. She padded stealthily to the window in her bare feet, took a deep breath and jerked the curtain back.

Then laughed as relief flooded over her.

“It’s only a tree branch, dummy. Scraping against the window. Geez, you’d think you’d never spent a night alone.”

Feeling much better, Tara went back to bed. As she drifted back to a sleep filled with Gavin Thomas, she didn’t hear the faint creaking of floorboards over her head.

In the morning, Tara was relieved to discover that Gavin had obviously gone back to wherever it was he lived after boarding up the window. After a restless night, filled with vivid, disturbingly sensual dreams, having to face him first thing in the morning would have been too much to handle.

She searched the cupboards, frustrated but not surprised when all she could find were the herbal teas her grandmother had so successfully marketed through various catalogs. And as much as she had enjoyed the lemon balm tea with her mother the other day, what she needed now was a strong jolt of caffeine to rid her mind of cobwebs and lingering thoughts of a man she had no intention of becoming involved with.

Despite her grandmother’s interference.

Deciding the only thing to do was get dressed and go into town for coffee at the Branding Iron Café before meeting with Brigid’s lawyer, she went back upstairs to take a shower.

“I realize your talents far surpass mine, Grandy,” she muttered out loud as she blew her hair dry. “But if I wanted to, I could cast a spell of my own. To counter yours.

“Of course that’s also what you want me to do, isn’t it?” Tara frowned at her reflection in the wavy bathroom mirror. “That’s what all this is about. You’ve brought me back here to force me to get in touch with my roots. Well, I’ve got news for you, Grandy. I’m not going to cast any spells. I’ve made a life for myself that doesn’t involve magic. I’m happy.”

The falsehood hung in the air, mocking her. “All right, perhaps satisfied is a better word. But it’s only because I’ve had a grueling year. By the time I leave here, I’ll be itching to get back to work.”

Back to her tax tables and interest rates and stock indexes. Back to her tidy apartment on Russian Hill, decorated with no-nonsense Scandinavian furniture, where she spent her nights and weekends laboring over computer spreadsheets.

“I’ve worked hard to get where I am,” she insisted as she marched into the bedroom and for the second time that morning almost tripped over the suitcases that had not been there when she’d gone to bed last night.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.