Angels Don't Cry. Amanda Stevens

was on his knees beside her in a flash. “Angel, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

      “No, I’m okay. I tripped over something—”

      His eyes closed briefly as he let out a quick breath. “Thank God. I heard the shot and then I heard you scream. When I saw you fall, I thought—”

      “What are you doing here?” she asked as she struggled to get up again. Drew’s hand shot out, grasping her arm as he helped her sit up.

      “I had a breakfast meeting with Sam McCauley, and I decided to take a walk along the river afterward.”

      “And you decided to walk across that bridge?” she said with a note of censure in her tone.

      “It’s in worse shape than I remembered,” he agreed wryly. “Listen, are you sure you’re okay? What’s the matter with your arm?”

      “I twisted my wrist when I fell. It’s nothing,” Ann said shakily, trying to pull away. But Drew held her, gently but firmly, refusing to let her go.

      “Let me take a look.” His fingers tentatively explored along her wrist, probing the bones with a light, sure touch, reassuring them both that nothing was broken.

      But Ann felt anything but reassured. His seeking fingers were touching more than just her skin. He was touching memories deep within her soul, awakening feelings she’d long ago buried. With each tender stroke, she could feel herself slipping away, drowning beneath a pool of emotion that should have been drained long, long ago. A soft sigh slipped through her lips, drawing his gaze to hers.

      “Did I hurt you?” he asked in a strangely guarded tone.

      More than you could ever imagine, she thought, but she only shook her head slightly, feeling the excitement of his touch spreading through her like a wildfire out of control.

      He felt it, too. She could tell by the glint of wonder in his eyes, by the trace of some indefinable emotion in his features. His mouth had grown softer, luring her gaze. There had always been something so timelessly seductive about Drew’s mouth. An image came to her now—she was standing beneath a full moon, wrapped in his arms, experiencing for the first time the wonder of his masculine lips against hers—

      Mirroring her thoughts perfectly, Drew slowly lowered his head toward hers, the movement hypnotic as Ann stared up at him. Her lips parted slightly, waiting for that exquisitely torturous moment when his mouth would touch hers. Her eyes drifted closed. Her breath caught in her throat.

      Yes. Oh, yes! This was the memory that had kept her awake at night, reliving in her mind his every touch, his every whisper, and then longing for more, so much more. This was the memory that had kept her alone and lonely for most of those ten years, because no man had ever been able to touch her as Drew had.

      A storm of emotions ripped through her in that waiting moment, tearing her apart with the intensity, the longing.

      Drew. He’d finally come back, and it was almost too easy to forget why. It was almost too easy not to care why, only that he was here, with her at last. She’d wanted this moment for so long, had wished for it desperately—

      Be careful what you wish for, a little voice in the back of her mind taunted her. She’d had other wishes over the years, wishes that had come true and had tormented her ever since. She’d given up wishing a long time ago, especially where Drew Maitland was concerned.

      Her hands fluttered weakly to his chest as she tried to gather her resistance, but still she couldn’t find the strength to push him away.

      Another shot rang out, farther down river. The hunter had obviously moved on, the danger was past, the enchantment shattered. Drew’s head lifted as his hands fell away from her. They both struggled to their feet, then stepped apart as he whirled in the direction the shot had come from. “What the hell is going on here, a war?”