Lutz did pale at that. "What are you talking about?"

"I suggest you ask your son." Jenna turned away, then turned back for one more exchange. "One more thing, Mr. Lutz. You'd better be praying my friend pulls through or the charge will be murder. And that doesn't sit well with college scouts."

She turned on her heel and walked out the door. Steven followed her quietly, still mulling over the look of shock on Lutz's face. Of two things Steven was fairly certain. Lutz hadn't known about the brakes nor did he care for the idea of his son being charged with felony murder. Go figure.

Friday, October 1, 12:30 A.M.

Jenna didn't say a word until they were in her apartment with the door closed.

"Son of a bitch,'' she muttered, jerking at the belt on her gi. Her fingers stilled and her shoulders sagged. "Dammit," she whispered and his heart sagged, too. A wave of tenderness washed over him, and with it, a fierce need to protect her.

"Here, let me," Steven said softly and went to work on the knot in her brown belt. He slipped the belt from around her waist and draped it over the soft arm of her sofa. Then he slipped the gi from her shoulders and laid it on top of the belt, leaving her in T-shirt and the gi bottoms.

And a bra, he thought, tenderness sliding over to make way for lust. He tried not to think about it. "Turn around," he ordered, his voice husky in the quiet of her apartment. She obeyed and he massaged her shoulders, trying not to let her soft groan distract him from his relatively innocent task.

To make her feel good. To take away her stress. Be honest. To get your hands on her again.

"That feels good," she said thickly, dropping her chin to her chest. He pushed her ponytail to one side and went to work on her neck. Tried to ignore the urge to kiss it. Tried to ignore the throbbing of his body. His erection was nothing new. He'd been stiff as a board since she'd given Lutz a piece of her mind. She'd been magnificent. But this was different. This was more.

He gave in and dipped his head, brushing his lips across the back of her neck, her sigh making his heart beat faster. Slipped his left arm around her, bracketing the underside of her breasts while his right hand massaged the long, lean line of her spine. Felt her heart beating hard against his arm. Felt her settle her incredible ass against his groin. He fought the urge to thrust, to bury himself deep inside her. He moved his arm, over and around so that her breast fell into his hand.

She drew a breath and he didn't move. Neither did she. "Jenna," he whispered.

"What?" she whispered back.

I want you, his brain screamed. I want to come inside you and pound and pound until everything else in the universe goes away. "I want to kiss you."

She was quiet a moment, then drew another deep breath, pressing her breast into his hand, her nipple as hard as a diamond against his palm. "On one condition."

"Which is?" he breathed, ready to grant her anything.

"That you don't run away again," she whispered and he groaned.

He spun her around, pulling her into his arms, grinding his mouth against hers. Finding relief in the kiss even as the wanting built hotter and higher. Her arms came around his neck and she pressed against him, her breast to his chest. Her hips against his hips. Her soft mound against the hard ridge of his cock.

She was perfect. And mine. Mine, mine, mine. His hands slid down her back and under her waistband of her gi. Down until they touched lace. Until they covered her ass. Until they yanked, drawing her higher, closer, bringing him deeper into her softness. Making her moan his name.

His name. He pulled back, staring at her face. Her eyes, dilated and aroused. Her lips, full and pouty from their kiss. Her cheeks, slightly reddened from the scrape of his beard. "Say that again."

"Steven," she whispered again, but differently. Playfully. Hirtatiously. Her fingers dropped to his shirt, to the button in the middle of his chest. Nimbly she freed the buttons up until she reached his holster and down until she reached the waist of his pants. Then her hands were inside his shirt, splayed flat against his skin, her clever fingers tangling in the hair that covered his pecs. He shivered from the pleasure. Her hands felt so damn good. "Steven," she whispered huskily.

It was his turn to swallow. "What?"

Her fingers butted up against the barrier of his shoulder holster. "Take it off."

He was already shrugging out of his jacket. "Why?" he asked, catching a bit of her playfulness.

"Because it's in my way." She pushed at the holster again with her fingertips, from beneath his shirt. She looked up through her dark lashes, making him want to gobble her up in one bite. "I don't think you want to get in my way."

He unbuckled the clasp and blindly let the holster drop. "No, I don't think I do." He drew a startled breath, when her hands began to move again, her fingertips brushing against his nipples. His cock jumped against her and her eyes widened. His throat worked as he tried to make words come. Any words would do. Preferably words that would make her say "yes."

"I want you," he murmured. Direct. To the point. Honest as hell.

Her eyes on his, her fingertips still brushing his now painfully sensitive nipples she said, "Yes."

Steven blinked. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, I know." Her hands moved up to his shoulders and began to push his shirt off. "Yes, I want you, too."

Yes. She'd said yes. Wait. Steven shook his head and lightly grabbed her wrists. "Wait."

Her hands immobilized, Jenna leaned up on her toes and nuzzled his jaw. "For what?"

Her scent was in his head. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. He shook his head again, dropped her wrists, and stepped backward. "Wait."

Her pouty lips bent in a frown. "Are you planning to run away again?"

"Yes. No. Hell, I don't know."

"I like the no answer better."

"You would." Steven raked his fingers through his hair, frustrated. With himself, with her. But mostly with himself. "I'm sorry, Jenna, this is just too fast."

She huffed out a breath and looked up at the ceiling. "I don't believe this is happening." She turned and walked to the dining room, clutching the back of one of the chairs with a grip so tight Steven could see her knuckles whiten from ten feet away. "What's wrong, Steven? Is it me?"

He was across the room in less than a second, pulling her around to face him. "No, it is not you. Not the way you're asking anyway."

'Then in just which way?" she asked and he was appalled to see tears in her eyes.

Panic gripped his gut where lust had been only moments before. "Oh, God, Jenna, don't cry. Please." She jerked out of his arms and turned her back again, crossing her arms tightly across her breasts. She's been through so much tonight, he thought. That he'd made it worse wrenched at him. "Please, sweetheart, don't cry."

She sniffled and he knew it was too late. "I'll cry if I want to," she said, sounding very much like a little girl instead of the strong woman he knew her to be. "And you can't stop me."

He smiled, his own emotion swinging back to tenderness. "You sound like Nicky."

Her shoulders heaved and his smile disappeared. "I know," she muttered. "This sucks."

"What sucks?" he asked carefully.

"My whole life. Friends and family who won't rest until I'm married. Crazy teenagers trying to kill me, and now my best friend is in ICU." She wheeled around, tears streaking her face, still easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "And then there's you."