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He kicked the wooden door closed behind them. Mariah stood uncertainly. What did he want her to do? |
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What did she want to do? Oh, that was easy. She glanced toward the bed in which she'd spent so much time over the past weeksalone. She had been so eager to leave it. Now . . . |
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She started as he buffed his hand beneath her hair and gently squeezed her neck. She looked up and found him also stating at the bed, an anguished expression deepening the lines around his eyes. Then he turned that same tortured look on her. "Are you feeling well, Mariah? Is there still any pain? If only I could have taken the bullet instead" |
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"Nonsense," she interrupted softly, smoothing the furrow between his brows with her fingertip. "You were busy saving all our lives. I don't know how to use your blasted gun; that was your job. If I had to distract those crooks by getting shot, well" |
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"Shut up, Mariah." But he didn't need to say it; his lips on hers did the job. |
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His kiss was tentative at first. So was the way he held her, |
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