The Bride Wore a Forty-Four
“But though she knew the high speeds, split-second maneuvers, and two-wheel turns should have scared the hell out of her, she didn't really feel afraid. She felt alive. Her heart was pounding, blood flowing, skin tingling in ways they hadn't done since—since she could remember.
He put a hand on her shoulder. It was warm, firm. Familiar. "You okay?" She nodded. "You'd almost think I was used to this kind of thing." Lifting her head slowly, she faced him, studied his profile. The strong nose, tanned skin, slight shadow of beard on his cheeks. Lips that were full and so sensual she got a little tingly as she stared at them. "I am, aren't I?" He glanced her way, drew a breath, then let it out again without answering.
"Don't you think it's about time someone told me who the hell I am? God, Marshall, I have a right to know." He nodded. "I know. I know you do. Believe me, there's nothing I want more than to tell you...everything.
But—" "But?" He looked at her again. "I can't" She lowered her head.
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