A Woman Like You — Patricia Pellicane

The diminutive little miss stood in the thief's path. Luckily, Jonathan Townsend lingered nearby. Had he not moved and moved quickly, she could have known serious injury. Was it his fault that he was far taller than the delicious minx? He couldn't be held to account for the inadvertent placement of his hands, could he? In any case, her reputation was safe. No one had seen where he'd touched her. It only mattered that she'd been whisked out of harm's way.

The entire matter could have been easily forgotten, but for a few glaring facts. Now that he knew of the lady's lush charms, now that he glimpsed the pleasure that could possibly be his, now that he'd seen flawless skin and sparkling eyes up close, he only wanted more.

Lizzie Hampton hadn't needed his help. Indeed, had she faced death she wouldn't have asked for it. The boy may have hit her, but in the end it was possible she might have come from her daydream in time and stepped out of harm's way. In any case she doubted a fall would have caused her any great injury.

He had grabbed her. Oh, the unmitigated gall! It didn't matter that it was accidentally done. Her breast throbbed at his daring. Rather than apologize for so intimate a touch he had the impudence to bestow upon her a lazy, knowing grin, all the while pretending nothing to be amiss.

A quick, if unfeeling, thank you should surely have sufficed. In truth should she never again see this grinning oaf, Lizzie would consider herself blessed among all women.

Only fate had more in store for Lizzie. Much more indeed.