She turned around, scorn on her face. "Then what was it, exactly, because I'm confused. I only know this is the second time you've jumped to the wrong conclusion when you've seen me talk to another man. Your track record leaves much to be desired, Agent Thatcher."

He shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Thursday night at the hospital-when you came in with Neil and I was with Ned and Lucas. You were angry then, too."

Steven locked his arms across his chest, remembering how he felt seeing her in the arms of another man. He hadn't been angry. He'd been hurt. But now he'd be damned before admitting that to her. "I was not angry. Surprised, maybe, but not angry."

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine." She lightly pushed him away from the front door and he let her do it. Opening the front door she gestured for him to leave. "I'd like to continue this when you're willing to talk to me," she said, in what he imagined to be her schoolteacher voice. It grated on him. "But it's late and I'm tired and I'd like you to go now."

He stared at her for a full minute. She meant it. She was throwing him out. "Davies wants you for himself," he heard himself say, then waited.

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. "Well, Steven, you of all people should know we don't get everything we want. You actually thought I…" She let the thought trail away and shook her head. "If you could even think I could go with him not twenty minutes after talking about making love with you?" She swallowed hard. "Then we weren't talking about making love. We were only talking about having sex. And to borrow a trite phrase, I'm not that kind of a girl." She motioned to the hallway with a flourish. "Good night, Steven."

Uncertainly he stepped out into the hall and a second later was staring at the door she'd quietly closed in his face. Slowly he trudged down the stairs and to his car where he had an eagle's eye view of Jenna standing at her window, looking down at him.

She just stared down as he stared up, her expression so disappointed and grave. No hysterics or thrown pottery as Melissa would have done. And he heard Mike's voice in his head. "Not all women are Melissa." Steven knew that. He knew Jenna was nothing like Melissa. He'd known it from the very start. Yet at the first opportunity he'd allowed himself to believe the worst. He'd wounded her before she could wound him.

And he'd done a damn fine job.

He watched as she went into the kitchen, coming out with the container of ice cream she'd taken comfort in the night Casey got hurt. The night he'd told her he could fall in love with her. Because she was beautiful and kind. Every man's dream.

His dream. So get your ass back up there and apologize, his self told him severely. So he did.

"Jenna, open the door," he coaxed when she didn't answer. "Please." He'd leaned his forehead on her door when he heard a giant sigh behind him and turned to find Mrs. Kasselbaum in her robe and hair curlers looking as if she really wanted to take a switch to his hide.

"Do I have to do everything for you people?" she demanded in an exasperated voice. "I gave you the keys not ten minutes ago. Have you lost them already?"

Steven dug in his pocket and felt the twisty-tie prick his finger. "No, ma'am." He brought out the keys and showed them to her. "Here they are."

She rolled her eyes. "And there is the door. Do I have to draw you a map? Key, door. I swear, young man, if my safety is in your hands, I'm going to buy a gun."

Steven felt his lips twitch. "No, ma'am, don't do that. I'm sorry we woke you."

"Don't let this become a nightly occurrence," she snapped and stepped back into her apartment.

Jenna looked up, startled when her door swung open and Steven walked in as if he owned the place. She glared at him, wishing she had never let him into her heart. Wishing she'd never given him the power to hurt her so badly. Wishing Mrs. Kasselbaum didn't have a spare set of keys to her apartment. "I thought I told you to go away."

"I changed my mind."

"I didn't." Sensing her mood, Jean-Luc curled up at her feet and she could feel a low growl vibrating through his body.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, right," she said bitterly. "We seem to have had this conversation before."

He took another step closer and she could smell his cologne. He smelled so good. "I'm an idiot," he said, looking so good. So damn good. Her heart kicked up a notch and she felt her skin sizzle. And cursed the fact that she was so easy when it came to him.

She looked down into the ice cream, fighting the urge to forget his tantrum and throw herself into his arms, to simply take up where they'd left off before Davies spoiled everything. No, she corrected herself. Before Steven thought the worst of her. "I figured that out the day we first met."

"You were right then." He came closer until his hand closed over hers, sending the spoon back into the ice cream and a current straight down the middle of her body. "You were right tonight. I was a jealous jerk. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him and knew she'd be lucky to hold out for a reasonable explanation. She was a done duck. "Why are you a jealous jerk?"

He tugged on her hand and she let him pull her to her feet. "Because I never had a woman look at me the way you do," he said softly.

Damn. Slick words. "Save your rehearsed lines, Steven," she managed. "I'm not interested."

"They aren't rehearsed lines," he said sharply. "It's the truth." He closed his eyes and she watched his lips move as he counted backward from ten. When his eyes opened they were calm. And vulnerable. "I was hurt," he said. "O saw the way you looked at Davies and I…" He shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to be different." His lip quirked self-consciously. "Special." He rolled his eyes. "It sounds really stupid when I say it out loud like that."

Her heart touched, Jenna shook her head. "No, Steven, it doesn't. You are different." She reached up and rested her fingertips against his jaw. "Special," she whispered.

His brown eyes flashed. "How?" His whisper was fierce. "Tell me how I'm different."

In that flash of a moment Jenna remembered the Italian place on Capitol and her own jealous feelings when the waitress brushed too close to Steven's side. And the way he just kept looking at her, Jenna, as if the waitress didn't even exist. He was wrong about Neil, but now she understood his pain. Something caught in her throat, making her voice shaky. "Because of the way you look at me," she told him. "Like I'm the only woman in the room."

His hands trembled as they gently framed her face. "You are," he whispered, then all she saw was his brown eyes as he came closer.

Then she closed her eyes and saw nothing at all. Just felt his mouth on hers, gentle at first. Then he groaned and she groaned and the kiss went wild and his hands were on her breasts through her sweater, then under her sweater and under her bra and finally on her bare skin. His fingertips plucked at her nipples and she heard the sharp intake of her own breath as she pulled her lips away from his. She looked up at him, panting just as he was, sure her eyes were just as aroused as his. But he was still holding back. She could sense it.

"What do you want, Steven?"

He never blinked. "Everything."

"So take it," she challenged in a whisper and that seemed to finally crack the hold of his control. Grabbing at the hem of her sweater he pulled it over her head, taking the bra with it. She could feel the burn of his eyes on her bare breasts as he yanked off his jacket, his shoulder holster, his shirt. Until he stood before her naked from the waist up.

His chest was covered with the coarse hair she'd only felt, but never seen. Golden, it shimmered in the light, beckoning her touch. Then he was kissing her again, hot openmouthed kisses that stole her breath even as he flattened her hands on his chest, moving her palms back and forth across the nipples that were almost hidden within the golden hair.