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Page 105
Mike drew back. He hadn't intended to take Abby into his arms, but he had been inexplicably angry when he realized she was gone, then so relieved to find her that he'd momentarily lost control.
He'd begun by wanting to shake some sense into her, but when he'd touched her, the feel of her lithe body against him had set his libido on fire. She smelled of cinnamon and flowers, here on the plant-sparse desert. She tasted of something sweet, yet enticingly exotic. Her pale brown hair, captured in his hands, was soft, silken fire. He wasn't sure whether he regretted more the fact that he'd kissed heror that he'd let her go. Was she upset about his embrace, angry that he'd followed her?
So what if she was? She could have died out here alone. She should be grateful he'd bothered to come for her. Ready to shout at her again if she dared to complain, he looked down into Abby's dark, luminous eyes.
Far from seeming angry, they shone with . . . could it be happiness? Then why had she run away? He had to know.
"What's going on, Abby? Why did you leave?" His voice was stem, though he felt a quaver of emotion in it. Rage, of course. He'd sworn off caring for anyone.
"I cannot explain, Mike," she said in a regretful tone. "Not if you want honesty. But I can tell you one thing truthfully."
"What's that?" he growled, even more angry

 
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