Steven tilted his head forward. Carefully. "Me?"

Jenna took a step toward him, her fingertip jabbing into his chest. "Yes, you. I'm happy with my life. I have dogs. I have sports. I have friends." She jabbed harder and he winced but said nothing. "I didn't want you," she went on, her voice gaining strength. "I would have been happy as a spinster with cats. But can I be happy as a spinster with cats now?"

Steven didn't answer. He didn't think he was supposed to. He was right.

"Nooo," she said, on an obvious roll. "And why not? Because you woke up my hormones and now all I think about is kissing you! When I'm not worrying about crazy teenagers of course."

"Of course."

She glared at him. "You think this is funny, don't you? You think it's funny that all I want right now is to throw you down on the floor and have sex with you. Right now."

Steven swallowed. Audibly. "No, I don't think that's funny at all. Believe me."

She looked slightly mollified. "Well, all right then. Now what'll we do?"

Steven ran his tongue over his teeth. "I'm sure I have no idea."

"I need to walk the dogs," she said wearily. "You can go if you want."

Steven grasped her shoulders firmly. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll walk the dogs. Why don't you get something to eat?"

"Okay," she murmured.

When he came back from walking the dogs, one at a time, he found her sitting at the table, wearing an oversized T-shirt and eating ice cream right out of the container with a big spoon.

"I actually had something more nutritious in mind," he said, patting Jim on the head. Or Jean-Luc.

Jenna looked at the spoon with a philosophical air. "It's Haagen-Dazs Rocky Road," she said.

"Sorry, didn't realize Haagen-Dazs Rocky Road had been elevated to one of the four major food groups." He pulled out a chair and sat down at her table. "Jenna, I think we need to talk."

She shrugged and looked away. "So talk," she said and shoved another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She waved the spoon at him. "Go ahead. I'm waiting."

He cleared his throat. 'Truth of the matter is I'm flattered."

"Oh, God," she groaned. "Not the I'm-flattered speech."

Steven raised his brows. "You've heard this before?"

She shook her head and dug deeper into the ice cream container in disgust. "No, but I read."

Steven wanted to smile. "Well, I doubt you've heard it quite this way."

Jenna wanted to scream. Wanted to pull her hair and just scream. Instead she ate some more ice cream. "Whatever," she muttered, mentally preparing herself for more humilia-tion. "Just get it over with. I'm a nice woman and you like me, but you just want to be friends. Yadayadayada."

He took the spoon from her hand and stuck it back in the container. "Look at me. Please."

Jenna looked at him. At his beautiful brown eyes. At the body she still wanted. "I'm listening," she said.

He closed his eyes and she saw his cheeks heat. He was embarrassed, she thought, as was she. It was bad enough to throw yourself at a man, but to be refused… It was humiliating.

"The truth is, I want you more than I want to breathe," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

He opened his eyes and glared. "I said I did."

She drew a breath. "Okay, I'm still listening."

"Good, because I don't think I can do this more than once," he said grumpily, which made her smile. He smiled then, too, and took her hand. "I have responsibilities, Jenna. Three of them. I can't just be bringing home a succession of girlfriends that my kids get attached to. When I get involved with a woman, I need her to be the one."

Jenna felt her throat close. The one. As in… the one. He couldn't make it any plainer. And that… one… wasn't her. "Okay, I understand. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, his brown eyes piercing. "I don't think you do. Jenna, I've known you a week. That's not long enough to know anything about you, or for you to know anything about me. I want to be honest with you. I like you. A hell of a lot. My kids could fall in love with you like that." He snapped his fingers. "Nicky already has. But this isn't a good time for either of us." He drew a deep breath. "Tonight I was so close to taking everything you offered."

"You were?"

He studied her soberly and her heart skipped a beat. "I was.

I still am." He squeezed her hand lightly. "I think I could fall in love with you, Jenna Marshall. You're beautiful and nice and kind. You're every man's dream. But if I'd taken what you offered tonight, it might have been taking advantage. You've had a shock. You've had as close to a near-death experience as I pray you ever get. Can you look me in the eye and tell me part of what's influenced you tonight wasn't that?"

She couldn't. Because he was right. "No," she whispered.

"I didn't think so. I want you to want me. For me. And I want you to know that if we go on, it's with the understanding that it's got to be very, very serious."

Jenna raised their joined hands to her lips and watched his beautiful brown eyes darken. He truly wanted her, but continued to control his own desires. For her. So as not to take advantage of her. He thinks he could fall in love with me. It was so unexpected. He was so unexpected. The way he'd turned her life upside down. She swallowed hard, yet her voice still came out as a husky whisper. "I think I could fall in love with you, too, Steven Thatcher. You're a good man. Strong and kind." She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch, his only movement. She thought about what it would be like with him, to be loved by him, and her heart raced. Then she allowed herself to think about his children, to imagine tucking Nicky in at night and hearing him call her "Mommy." And her heart sighed. "And if we go on it's with the understanding that I want your kids."

He seemed to relax before her eyes. "Good. Now I think it's your bedtime. I'll tuck you in."

And he did, just like her father used to. Then he turned out the lights and sat in the chair next to her bed. Within seconds her eyelids felt like sixteen-ton weights.

"Steven?" she yawned.

"Yes, Jenna." His voice rumbled in the darkness.

"You don't have to stay. I'll be fine."

"I know. I want to stay for me." His hand stroked her hair. "I almost lost you tonight," he murmured. "Before I ever got to have you."

"Umm." His hand on her hair felt wonderful. "Steven, can you call the hospital to see if Casey's all right?" She listened as he called, listened, then hung up.

His hand stroked her hair again. "She's stable, Jenna. Now go to sleep."

Friday, October 7, 6:00 A.M.

Steven expected to wake with a stiff neck from sleeping in the chair next to Jenna's bed. Instead he felt more refreshed than he had in days. So why wasn't his neck stiff and why didn't his back hurt? And why wasn't he in the chair next to Jenna's bed? He bolted upright, sending the frothy blanket to his waist, baring his shirtless chest. Because he was in Jenna's bed.

His heart caught. She was asleep in the chair. He reached over to shake her awake. "Jenna."

Her eyes opened. "Oh." She blinked hard and scrambled to sit up straight. "You're awake."

"I am. Why am I here and you there?"

Her lips curved. "I woke up in the night to check on Casey and you looked so uncomfortable in the chair. I pulled you onto the bed, thinking you'd just sleep. But, when I woke up again, your hands were… occupied. I didn't mind, but I thought you would so I bunked in the chair." Her eyes smiled as his face heated and she leaned over to trail the backs of her fingers against his cheek. "What time do you have to be to work?"

He captured her fingers and pressed them to his cheek, not wanting to let her go. Protectiveness welled from deep within and he didn't want to let her out of his sight. A group of crazed, angry teenagers had tried to kill her. It was difficult to keep the fury from his voice. "Seven-thirty."