It seemed like a long time before he stirred against her. He raised his head to look down at her, his dark face curiously enigmatic. Then he was abruptly rolling over and sitting up. "Stay there," he ordered as he swung his legs off the bed and got to his feet. "I'll be right back."

She couldn't have moved if she'd tried, Tamara thought wryly. Every muscle in her body felt like warm butter, yet there was an incompleteness, an emptiness she'd never known before. Would it always be like this now when she wasn't a part of Rex?

He returned carrying a moist washcloth and sat down beside her on the bed. "Spread your legs, love." Then he was gently wiping her thighs and between her legs. "Are you sore?" he asked, frowning.

The warm, damp cloth was deliciously soothing and the tenderness in Rex's face as he performed that intimate service was almost unbearably moving. "Not at all," she assured him softly.

He tossed the cloth aside and one hard, warm hand immediately began to massage the tight, black curls he'd just cleansed. "You're so pretty," he whispered wonderingly. "You're like an ebony velvet orchid with a lovely pink heart." His fingers touched that heart with gossamer-light tenderness. "So pretty."

Tamara inhaled sharply. "Come up to me, Rex," she murmured. "I want to hold you."

"Now there's crystal dew on my exquisite orchid," he murmured, his eyes still caressing her. "Do you know how it makes me feel to know I can make you do that?"

"Rex, please!"

He pulled his gaze away from her with obvious effort and shook his head as if to clear it. A deep shudder rippled through his body. "No!" He stood up abruptly and moved hurriedly away from the bed. He'd forgotten the three steps leading up to the canopy bed and she heard a small thud as he fell to his knees on the hard oak floor.

Tamara sat up, bewildered by the sudden change from passionate togetherness to this chilling loneliness. "Rex," she called hesitantly, then heard his furious cursing as he pulled on his clothes. "Rex, what is it? What's wrong?"

Then he was back at the bed, tossing her the cream satin robe that he'd removed so hurriedly only a short time before. "Put it on," he said. "I won't have you lying there teasing the hell out of me as we talk."

She gazed at him in bewilderment as she obediently slipped on the robe and buttoned the first few buttons. She ran her fingers distractedly through her hair and the motion pulled the satin material taut over her breasts, causing him to start muttering obscenities again.

He plopped down on the bed and fixed dark, accusing eyes on her. "You were a virgin."

She nodded slowly, her gaze fastened on his scowling face. "Yes."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me? Don't you think I had a right to know?" he asked tightly.

She shook her head helplessly. "I didn't think it was that important."

"Not important? Tamara, damn it, it's important," he growled. "What about Todd Jamison and all those other guys he told me about? What about Walter Bettencourt?"

Tamara couldn't understand why he was so upset. With one finger tracing idle patterns on the tapestry spread, she haltingly told him the truth of the lies that had been spread about her.

The explanation didn't appear to lessen Rex's ire. "That's great, absolutely great," he muttered with profound disgust. "Not only a virgin, but a victim as well."

She felt a shiver of pain run through her at the roughness of his tone. "I don't know why you're so angry," she said huskily. "What difference does it make if I was a virgin?"

"It makes a hell of a lot of difference! I've never had a virgin before."

"And I've never had a lover before," she retorted. "You're not making sense. Why does it even matter?"

"Because it's a heavy responsibility, damn it! What if I'd done something to turn you off for good? And what's more it's clear now that you've let yourself be so hurt by Jamison and those small-town tattle- mongers that you've kept all that warmth and passion in deep freeze for years." He ran his hand through his hair. "For heaven's sake, I didn't even protect you! I didn't think it would be necessary."

"But I wanted you to make love to me," Tamara protested, and two crystal tears flowed slowly down her cheeks.

Rex jumped off the bed like a scalded cat. "Don't do that!" he growled fiercely. "You know damn well what that does to me. In two seconds I'll have you in my arms, and in ten seconds you'll be in exactly the same position you were in ten minutes ago!"

"I don't see what would be so bad about that," she said huskily, her gaze running lovingly over his wide, muscular shoulders under the open white shirt.

"And you can cut that out, too!" he barked, starting to button the shirt hurriedly. "I'm not about to seduce you until I get my head straight. I've got to think."

Tamara watched in incredulous dismay as he stepped into his shoes, grabbed his jacket, and strode swiftly to the door. "I'm taking another room for the night," he said. "I'll meet you tomorrow in the lobby at eight." The door slammed behind him.

Tamara slowly sat up and automatically began fastening the remaining buttons on the satin robe. Her mind was in a turmoil as she tried to fathom Rex's violent reaction to her untouched state. She'd heard that some men didn't like to initiate an inexperienced woman, but she hadn't thought that Rex would be so prejudiced. There was a sharp ache that was beginning to pierce the confusion that beset her. Being made love to by Rex was like being on a thrilling roller-coaster ride, but it had suddenly plunged off the track into emptiness.

It had all been so beautiful, she thought miserably. Her hand brushed against the delicate blossoms that had been crushed between their eager bodies. Such a touching gesture, and so like the extravagant boy- man that was Rex Brody. She picked up the jasmine, remembering tenderly the lovely meanings Rex had intoned as he had cast the various blooms over her like a scented, velvet blanket.

She sniffed the jasmine's delicate fragrance and suddenly felt a stabbing pain run through her as she realized why Rex had left. Her hand went lifeless and the flower fluttered onto her lap as once more the tears began to fall. He'd said making love to her was a "responsibility," but she hadn't understood. She'd taken the statement at face value and thought he just didn't want to risk hurting her in any way. But of course that wasn't the real reason at all. He'd thought she would look upon the yielding of her virginity as a commitment, having no way to know that she'd already committed herself to him totally the moment she realized she loved him. He'd been horrified at even the possibility that she might become pregnant from their union tonight.

He'd made it crystal clear what he wanted from her and hadn't put love or affection on the list. That was why he'd left so abruptly when he'd thought he might get more than he bargained for. Rex wanted no complications in his relationship with her, and he'd been careful to tell her so in a language he'd known she'd understand.

Tamara lay back on the pillow, picking up the golden iris and cradling it against her tear-washed cheek.

A jasmine for sensuality, an orchid for beauty, but no red rose for love. No red roses.