The Harder They Fall Read online

  “You’re not hurting one little bit, are you?”

  “No. Not really,” she murmured, hugging him close. His arms tightened imperceptibly.

  “You’re crazy, you know that?” he demanded in a low whisper. “And you’re slowly driving me into that same state.”

  “I gave you an out,” she whispered. “I told you to stay out of my life, but you didn’t listen.”

  “I’m going to live to regret that decision, believe me. But later, not now.” His head dipped down, a fraction of an inch from her lips, and her heart started beating hard and fast in anticipation.

  “Just a date,” she said softly. “It’s just one little date.” But oh, she wanted so much, much more. “You can handle that, can’t you?”

  His lips met hers in answer.

  “Mew.”

  She’d forgotten Duff. Pulling back with dismay, Trisha glanced upward at a second, more pitiful cry. “Oh, no, Duff. I’m sorry, boy. Come down here.”

  Hunter rose spryly and shook his head as the badly frightened cat backed higher up the tree. “He’s not coming down, Trisha. He’s really scared.”

  Trisha had gotten Duff the day she moved into her apartment. They were a team, a family, and she had to get him down safely. “Then I’ll have to go get him,” she declared, reaching her arms up for the lowest branch of the towering oak tree.

  “You can’t do that.”

  In exasperation, she turned to Hunter, who stared at her with a mixture of pique and sympathy. “Why not?”

  “Because you’re still wearing Rollerblades.”

  That was easily fixed, and she bent to unlace them, but he pulled her back up. “No way. You’ll likely kill yourself on my property. Come on now, move.” He set her aside and reached for the branch.

  “You’re going to get him?” she asked.

  “Yes.” With weary resignation, he shoved up the sleeves of his shirt. He hauled himself up that first branch with a lithe ease that startled her. Before her eyes, he nimbly climbed the tree, reaching Duff in less than a minute.

  It took a great deal of balance, and more than a few muttered curses when a frightened Duff lashed out with razor-sharp claws, but Hunter finally managed to coax the cat into his arms and down the tree.

  Trisha grabbed Duff, hugging and kissing the humiliated cat before letting him go. She raised shiny, grateful eyes to Hunter, looking so lovely, his breath caught.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, beaming.

  She still wore her helmet and pads, though she’d removed her skates. When he thought about her crash into the tree, and how serious it could have been, his heart rate sped up. Or maybe it raced in reaction to the way she was looking at him.

  Heat filled her gaze as he watched, and again his heart reacted. Definitely the way she looked at him, he decided. Which didn’t make it any easier to accept. He didn’t want to be affected by this woman.

  He could control this. He didn’t have to feel this way.

  Oh, sure. And he didn’t need air to stay alive either. “Promise me you aren’t going to ride hell-bent for leather down that driveway again.”

  “At least not until I learn how to brake,” she said solemnly, lifting her hand in promise as she looked at him. Then she gasped. “You’re hurt. Oh, I’m sorry.” She grabbed his arm and carefully pushed up the sleeve, which had fallen over several nasty, bleeding cuts.

  Her hair fell over him, smelling clean and flowery. Her warm breath tickled his skin. Her concerned murmur made him feel more wanted and cared for than he’d felt in a long time. He was falling for her, he realized, quite hopelessly. And right then and there he knew he had to get away, now, before things got any further out of control.

  Trisha lifted her head and smiled gently at him.

  Run, he thought. Run now.

  “Come inside,” she said. “Let’s clean these up.”

  Before his brain could protest, his feet had taken over, following Trisha up the stairs.

  There were more than just a few cuts, Hunter realized as Trisha led him down the hallway of her apartment. Each of them had made itself known by the time she’d sat him down in her bathroom and pulled out a first-aid kit.

  As she dabbed antiseptic on his arm, carefully watching his face for any sign of pain, she asked, “You okay?”

  “It’s just a few cat scratches, Trisha. I’ll live.” But the ones on his chest, the ones she hadn’t yet discovered, were burning like wildfire. “I’ll just go downstairs and shower and change,” he said casually, but she put a hand to his searing chest to stop him.

  He couldn’t control his wince.

  “Wait a minute.” She reached for the buttons on his shirt.

  Grabbing her fingers, he said, “I’m fine. Let me just—”

  “Hunter,” she said quietly, moving from his side to stand between his outstretched legs. “The blood is starting to seep through your shirt—oh, Hunter,” she breathed, gingerly pulling the material sticking to his skin. She leaned close and peered down his shirt.

  Her wild hair dusted his face, the scent of her teased his nostrils. She stood between his tensed thighs. Seemingly of their own volition, his hands came up to bracket her hips. At the unexpected contact she started, and stared at him, mouth open slightly as if she could hardly breathe.

  “Duff got you good,” she whispered unsteadily.

  “Trisha,” he said, just as unevenly, “let me up.” He’d clean himself up in his own place, knowing if he let her touch him, he’d lose his already very tenuous grip on his control.

  Just a date, he reminded himself. One little date.

  But her nimble fingers again reached for the buttons on his shirt, releasing them one at a time. When she freed the last one, she spread the material wide, exposing the expanse of his chest to her gaze.

  She drew a sharp breath.

  In spite of the considerable discomfort of four bright, deep gouges running from collarbone to belly button, his body tightened uncontrollably. The air around them hummed with the charge of sexual excitement.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered, not looking at the scratches, but at him. Her breath quickened.

  And his body tightened further, making his trousers damned uncomfortable. “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” he tried to quip, but his throat was suddenly parched, and his voice croaked.

  “It was dark last time.” She laid a hand on him, a warm, caressing hand, and his fingers convulsed on her hips. “Hunter, you’re so beautiful.”

  He let out a sound, half laugh, half groan, then hissed when she swiped at the nasty scratches with the antiseptic. “That hurt worse than the damn thing did in the first place.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pushed his shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders and continued to minister to him. “Hunter, about tonight—” She stopped and moistened her lips.

  “What about it?”

  “I ... don’t want it to be just a date.”

  “What do you want it to be?”

  “More.” Everything she felt swam in those eyes and quite suddenly, his heart skipped a beat. “So much more,” she whispered.

  Something close to panic overwhelmed him. He’d been down this road before, with women much more suited to him than the almost desperately wild Trisha Malloy. “I can’t.”

  “Why? I might make a mess of things sometimes, and maybe drive you crazy once in a while, but I’d never demand things from you like your family does, I promise.”

  God, he didn’t want to hurt her. But better now than later. “I’ve told you, it’s not you. It’s me. I—”

  “If it’s fear of getting hurt,” she said in a hushed voice, “I’d never desert you at the altar. Or anytime, for that matter.”

  “I ... just can’t.”

  She glanced down at his lap. Confusion clouded her eyes as she obviously wondered why he couldn’t, when his body seemed so willing. “It’s not me you want?”

  Unwanted tenderness washed over him. “It’s not that simple, Trisha.�