One Touch of Topaz Read Online Free Page B

gave me that food and went away, knowing I wouldn’t eat it if you sat there and didn’t take a bite or—”
    “I wasn’t hungry,” she said, interrupting, trying to stem the flow. They were so close, she could feel the furnacelike heat emanating from his body and the smell of clean soap and a woodsy aftershave. “I had something to eat this morning.”
    “What?” he fired at her.
    She moistened her lips nervously. “Fruit, I think. Something.”
    His hands tightened on her shoulders. “You’re not telling me the truth.”
    “All right. Maybe it was last night.”
    “Maybe,” he repeated with soft menace.“Or maybe not. When did you eat last, Samantha?”
    She gave up. “Yesterday afternoon.” Then, as she saw his face darken, she hurried on. “But I had all the melon I wanted then. It was only because the patrols showed up that I didn’t eat after that. There were only enough rations for the prisoners in the cavern. They were in much worse shape than Ricardo and me, so we—”
    “Gave them your food,” he said grimly, finishing her sentence. “And was I in worse shape, too, that you felt compelled to give me your last bit of food? Look at me, I’m built like a bull, and if I miss a meal, it’s because I forget or I’m too busy, not because there’s no food to eat.” His fingers spread on her shoulders, testing their fine-boned frailty. “And you … Dear Lord, you’re skin and bones. Do you know how this makes me feel?”
    “I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.” Her voice was gentle. “I’m sorry.”
    “If you don’t stop saying that, I’m goingto throttle you.” His eyes were blazing down at her. “Why, dammit?”
    She raised her head and looked him directly in the eyes. “You were my guest,” she said with dignity. “It was only right that I offer you what I had.”
    A look of stunned disbelief spread over his face. “Your idea of hospitality is carried to the extreme. Where the hell is your common sense?”
    “I guess I don’t have any.” She smiled faintly. “I’m pretty impulsive, and I often leap before I look.” Her smile faded. “But I didn’t do that this time. I always try to pay my debts. I can never adequately repay you for saving Ricardo and the others, but I have to do what I can.”
    “I don’t take food from starving women.”
    She shook her head. “I’m not starving. I’m not even hungry. I’m very tough, you know. I’ve gone far longer with much less.” She smiled again. “And once I’ve had a cup of coffee, I’ll be fine.”
    He gazed down at her intently, his eyesnarrowed on her face. His big hands were still kneading her shoulders, but she wasn’t sure he was aware that he was doing it. He appeared totally absorbed, as if he were trying to unravel a complex and very irritating problem.
    But if he was unconscious of his hands on her body, she was certainly not. A strange languid heat seemed to be generated beneath his palms, and her flesh was taking on an excruciating sensitivity. She drew a deep breath. “Mr. Bronson?”
    He didn’t answer at first, and she thought he hadn’t heard her. Then his hands slowly released her and he stepped back, his face expressionless. “Fletch.” A grim smile indented the corners of his lips. “Since I’ve stolen your last crust of bread, I believe formality is ridiculous.” He gestured to the pallet against the wall. “Sit down. I’ll make the fire and the coffee.”
    “No, I—”
    He halted her protest with an upraisedhand. “I’m doing it,” he said curtly. “Sit down and rest, dammit.”
    She slowly sat down on the blanket. “Very well.” She crossed her legs Indian-fashion, resting her palms on her knees. “And then will you talk to me? I may be alone here for a week or two until it’s safe for me to leave and go after Paco.” She tried to keep her voice light and cheerful. “This might be my last chance for conversation for a while.”
    He gazed at her again with that curious