Miranda's Outlaw

He nodded but didn’t say a word. Only continued to stand there, towering above her like a pagan god of ancient times. She cleared her throat and took a step back, putting distance between herself and this man before something happened. Something that she wouldn’t be able to control.

“What took you so long?” he asked, his hot gaze running over her, leaving a slow burning in its wake.

What had he said? He stared at her lips and they tingled. She ached to know the taste and feel of his mouth. Would it be as fulfilling as the teasing breath had promised?

“I’m three minutes early,” she said, unable to keep quiet. “I brought a book that demonstrates how to grill trout on an open fire.”

“I’ve grilled before so you can hold on to that book.” Amusement was clear in his voice. She remembered the Field and Stream magazine fiasco and shook her head.

Miranda didn’t know why she felt like a teenager all over again. But something about Luke brought to mind those long, lonely days when she’d felt excited, nervous and unsure of the future. She forgot the sophistication she’d carefully cultivated in the intervening years. Damn.

He smiled. His teeth white against the rough, tanned skin of his face. He had a nice mouth, with lips that tempted her to lean closer, to taste him. To trace the individual serrations of his teeth with her tongue. To feel it moving over her own with the same precision he’d used to play the harmonica.

She felt the honey of his drawl before the words left his mouth. “Since you went to all the trouble of making the salad and bringing the wine, I’ll clean the fish.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

He chuckled and the sound of his laughter filled the meadow as his music had earlier. Miranda couldn’t help the giddy feeling that washed over her. Luke joined hands with her. The feel of his palm brushing against her own was strangely disquieting.