Excerpt:

She'd moved behind him and saw over his shoulder that she had accidentally placed one of the books upside down and the name on the spine was difficult to read. She wondered why he didn't turn it right side up--her own fingers itched to do so. She pointed to it. "I especially like that one for older children."

His fingers were a mere inch from the spine. When he didn't tip his head or make any attempt to read the spine she thought she might have her answer. But surely the man could read, he ran a big logging business. Watching him she remembered how he'd picked up the sheaf of papers that first morning in his office. He'd picked them up and shuffled them around, rolling them into a tube then dropping them back onto the desk without ever looking down at one of them. His eyes had never dropped to the printed page.

"Are you done here?" he asked, turning.

Even though he hadn't touched her she felt his nearness and backed away. "Yes, I suppose so. There isn't much more to do until the children are here tomorrow. You could have Michael bring the books with him in the morning when he comes...if he wouldn't mind."

"I'll send him over with them at lunch."

"But school starts at eight in the morning." Surely he didn't think she wouldn't start school until noon.

"And what's that got to do with Michael?" he demanded narrowing his eyes at her.

"He has work to do. You'll just have to wait for them."

His mouth had grown hard, but she wasn't going to let him intimidate her. "But Michael should be here by eight. That's when school starts."

Jed folded his arms over his chest and glared at her. "Look, Mrs. Trowbridge, I can't have my men--and that includes my son--dancing to your attendance all the time, they've done enough!"

Annie glared back. How could the man be this dense? "I don't want him to attend to me. I was just saying that he can bring the books when he comes to school."

Now it was Jed's turn to wonder at her thick-headedness. "Michael is not coming to school, not tomorrow or any other day. He'll drop the books off when he has time, and I'll wager that'll be the only time he'll see the inside of this room."

She gaped at him, sure she didn't understand his words. "You...aren't going to make sure he comes to school? How old is he? He's just a child? How can you do this to your own son? What kind of a father are you, for godsake?" She was so angry that her words came like rapid-fire gun shots.

More to calm his own anger than to actually touch her--this is what he told himself later--he stepped right into her and cupped her face with his two big hands. Pulling her up close and holding her only inches from his own face, he said, "Now I want you to listen to me, Mrs. School teacher, Ma'am."

Her lips formed a surprised O and just for a fraction of a second he forgot what he was going to say. "...You'll have your little kids here, and the girls...but we've got a few older boys who are working in the woods right along with the men and they're not interested in book-learning. They're nearly men and they're able to do a man's job."

When Annie licked her lips Jed nearly lost all control...and would have if she hadn't blasted him before he could cover her mouth with his.

Her fingers clawed at his hands still holding her face. "Mr. O'Connell, you are a pathetic excuse for a father. You would have your son and all the other young boys in this camp become nothing more than slaves to you. Perhaps you aren't aware that the Thirteenth Amendment to our Constitution passed in 1865 abolished slavery? It seems to me that you are sadly, stupidly locked in the dark ages--"

Her words just kept coming and all he could think to do to stop them was to place his mouth over hers.

When his mouth came down on Annie's, swallowing her last words, her anger dissolved in shock. The shock, though, soon gave way to something else as his mouth softened and settled on hers. Her fingers stopped groping at his hands and covered them, clinging to them now, wanting, needing their hard strength against her fevered cheeks. His body was so hard against her own, yet his mouth was soft, and warm, and moist. But she didn't like this man and she finally was able to slide her hands down where she could press against his chest. Lord, she had to push him away! But when his one hand cupped the back of her head and his other moved down to cup her full bottom, forcing her even intimately closer, she whimpered. When the pressure of his mouth softened even more and his tongue played at her lips, she whimpered again and felt the room around her spin and whirl. With a tiny shudder she relaxed her lips and parted them to taste the male flavor of him.

Her whimper sent Jed's blood boiling through his veins and he angled the kiss to get closer to her. When she tried to speak he swallowed her words and found them delectable beyond anything he'd ever experienced.

"...Jed."

"Don't talk," he said against her mouth before reclaiming it.

The fire in the stove popped, the wind-driven rain danced against the two windows, but Annie's senses were trapped, consumed by Jed as the figure outside the window moved away into the darkness, a malicious grin splitting his filthy beard.

Author BIO: Beverly Ruuth is a mother, a grandmother, and a wife to her husband of forty-eight years. She is also a writer of romantic fiction and some true pieces, as well.

Beverly loves traveling, camping with family and friends, swimming, teaching clogging, quilting, and, of course, writing. Even though she has been legally blind all her life, Beverly has enjoyed reading and still does, sometimes with Talking Books for the Blind.

Beverly and her husband live in a country setting in northern Washington State with their little poodle, Paddy, with their family close around them. Beverly believes in her own inner strengths and her ability to shape her own destinies. She believes in love, in lasting friendships and in happy endings.