A muffled little whimper penetrated his fog. She shuddered, and the heels of her hands pressed against his chest.

He drew back. “Annabelle?”

She gazed up at him through watery eyes and sniffed, the corners of her soft, rosy mouth drooping. “If only I were drunk,” she whispered.

Chapter Thirteen

Annabelle heard Heath’s sigh. That kiss…She’d known he’d be a wonderful kisser: domineering in the best possible way, master and commander, lord of the realm, leader of the pack. No need to worry about this one slipping into high heels when she wasn’t paying attention. But none of that justified her foolishness. “I—I guess I have more self-discipline than I thought,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“So gosh darned thrilled you figured that out now.”

“I can’t throw everything away for a couple of minutes of heavy breathing.”

“A couple of minutes?” he exclaimed indignantly. “If you think I’m not good for longer than—”

“Don’t.” Pain shot through her. All she wanted to do now was climb into bed and pull the covers over her head. She hadn’t cared about her business, her life, her self-respect. All she’d cared about was giving in to the moment.

“Let’s go, Tinker Bell.” He snagged her arm and steered her toward the kitchen. “We’re taking a walk to cool down.”

“I don’t want to walk,” she cried.

“Fine. Let’s go back to what we were doing.”

Even as she pulled away, she knew he was right. If she intended to get her footing back, this couldn’t wait till morning. She had to do it now. “All right.”

He grabbed the flashlight hanging by the refrigerator, and she followed him outside. They set off down a path soft with pine needles. Neither of them said a word, not even when the path opened into a small, moonlit cove where limestone boulders edged the water. Heath turned off the flashlight and set it on the lone picnic table. He stuffed his hands in the rear pockets of his shorts and walked toward the water. “I know you want to make a big deal out of this, but don’t.”

“Out of what? I’ve already forgotten.” She kept her distance, wandering toward the water but stopping a good ten feet from him. The air smelled warm and marshy, and the lights from the town of Wind Lake twinkled off to her left.

“We were dancing,” he said. “We got turned on. So what?”

She dug her fingernails into her palms. “As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.”

“It happened all right.” He turned toward her, and the tough note in his voice told her the Python had uncoiled. “I know the way you think, and that wasn’t some big, unforgivable sin.”

Her composure dissolved. “I’m your matchmaker!”

“Right. A matchmaker. You didn’t have to swear a Hippocratic oath to get your business card.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“You’re single; I’m single. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if we’d seen this through.”