Not that kind of Girl

Not that kind of Girl

The Scoundrel She looked at him with sad eyes. Make no mistake, she wanted to be with him, more than he'd ever know but if he expected her to be just like the other women who'd walked into his life, he had another thing coming.

"So this is it?" she asked and Sonny detected the hint of unhappiness in her voice. "It doesn't have to be," he replied as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His dark orbs bored into hers and she felt the familiar flutter in her stomach whenever he regarded her so seriously.

"I'm not like Brenda, or Lily or Carly," Dara said flatly, the last name producing more disdain that she intended. "I won't be like them, I won't be told what to do or where to go. I won't question you when my safety is at risk, but I will not be shut out of decision making when it is *my* life." Picking up her valise, she gave him one last forlorn glance before leaving his home. As she shut the door, he could hear her voice drift back.

"I'm not that kind of girl, Michael. You always knew that."