Excerpt of Heart and Sole by Miranda Liasson

She yanked the blanket off the bed. “You can take the bed,” she said, then threw it down on the hard, short banquette.

He should have let it go, let her go, but his heart compelled him to act, and he flew after her in two barefoot strides. His arm caught her elbow and whirled her toward him.

Her eyes glinted with anger; he saw it even in the dim light. It was hard, even now, not to gather her up and kiss her senseless, drag her down onto the bed and not come up until he’d finished exploring every last curve and valley.

His muscles actually trembled. Why was he always a flash of a second away from losing control with her? Like that one fine night when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Years and years of bound up feelings finally let loose. For that one and only time, he’d felt a glimmer of hope that maybe the past didn’t predict the future, that there really was forgiveness and mending and fresh chances.

But that had only lasted until the phone rang at dawn.

Maddie stood there staring at him. His hand still clung to her arm as though he feared she would bolt like a scared rabbit out of the camper and into the woods. She shrugged it briskly away. “Business is business, right, Nick? From now on, let’s just keep everything else out of it.”

She thought he was unfeeling, some kind of sociopath who pulled family businesses out from under people for pleasure. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

His gaze locked on hers. Raw emotion registered, lust and sadness and torment, and for a raw, brutal instant, Nick felt it all run through his heart like a blade.

He did feel, and she had no idea how much.

He tugged the blanket from her hands. “I’m taking the seat. Good night.” As soon as this god-awful weekend was done, he’d force himself to forget her. It would be easy, because she’d hate him for real when all was said and done.