she let go of the handle and reached up to feel if her scalp was bleeding.

Then she turned around. She couldn't have gotten another word out if her life had depended on it. Theo stood in his doorway, casually leaning against the frame with his arms folded across his bare chest and one bare foot crossed over the other. His hair was tousled, his face needed a shave, and he looked as though he'd just been awakened from a deep sleep. He had pulled on a pair of Levi's, but hadn't bothered to zip them.

He was simply irresistible.

She stared at the narrow opening between the zipper, then realized she was staring and forced herself to look away. She

settled on his chest, realized that was a mistake, and ended up staring at his feet. He had great feet.

Oh, boy, did she need help. Now his feet were turning her on. She needed therapy, intense therapy, to help her figure out how

any man could make her so nuts.

He wasn't just any man, though. All along she'd known how dangerous the attraction was. It was the damned fence, she

decided. If he hadn't bought the damned fence for little John Patrick, she might have been able to continue to resist him. Too late now. She let out a little groan. Theo was still a big jerk, but she'd fallen for him anyway.

She swallowed hard. He looked good enough to… don't go there. Then she looked into his eyes. She wanted him to scoop her

up into his muscular arms, kiss her senseless, and carry her to bed. She wanted him to take her nightgown off and caress every inch of her body. Maybe she would toss him on the bed, take his Levi's off, and caress every inch of his body. She wanted to-

"Michelle, what are you doing? It's two-thirty in the morning."

Her fantasy came to a screeching halt. "Your door doesn't squeak."

"What?" he asked.

She shrugged, then pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I didn't hear you because your door didn't make any noise

when you opened it. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to watch you play with your door."

"It squeaks."

"Yes, I know, the door squeaks."

"I'm sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to disturb you, but since you're awake…"

"Yes?"

"You want to play cards?"

He blinked. Then that slow, easy smile appeared, and she started feeling light-headed.

"No, I don't want to play cards. Do you?"

"Not really."

"Then why did you ask?"

The way he was staring at her with that penetrating gaze of his made her extremely nervous, but it was the good kind of

nervous she'd felt just before he'd kissed her the night before, which meant that it was bad, because she'd never wanted the

kiss to end, and what kind of convoluted sense did that make? She was losing her mind, all right. She wondered if she could schedule her patient appointments from the psychiatric ward.

"Please stop looking at me like that." Her toes curled into the carpet, and she felt her stomach doing back flips.

"Like what?"

"I don't know," she muttered. "I can't sleep. So do you want to do something until I get sleepy?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Besides cards?" she asked nervously.

"Uh-huh."

"I could fix you a sandwich."

"No thanks."

"Pancakes," she said then. "I could fix you pancakes."

On a scale of one to ten, her anxiety was climbing past nine. Did he have any idea how much she wanted him? Just don't

think about it. Keep busy. "I make great pancakes."

"I'm not hungry."

"What do you mean, you're not hungry? You're always hungry."

"Not tonight."

I'm drowning here, babe. Work with me. She caught her lower lip between her teeth while she frantically tried to come up

with another idea.

"Television," she suddenly blurted, acting as though she'd just correctly answered the million-dollar question and Regis was

handing her the check. "What?"

"Would you like to watch television?" "No." She felt as if he'd just snatched the lifeline out of her hands.

She sighed. "Then you think of something."

"Something we could do together? Until you get sleepy."

"Yes."

"I want to go to bed."

She didn't try to mask her disappointment. She guessed she was going to go back to counting those damn smelly sheep.

"Okay. Good night, then."

He didn't go back into his bedroom, though. Pulling away from the doorway with the agility of a big, lazy, well-fed cat, he

closed the distance between them in two long strides. His toes touched hers as he reached behind her and opened her bedroom door. He smelled faintly of aftershave, Dial soap, and man, and she found the combination extremely arousing. Who was she kidding? At this point, a sneeze would turn her on.

He took hold of her hand, but his grip was light. She could have easily pulled away if she'd wanted to, but she didn't. In fact,

she held tight.

Then he tugged her into her bedroom. He shut the door, backed her against it, and pinned her there with his arms on either side

of her face and his pelvis pressed snugly against her thighs.

The wood was cool against her back, bis skin hot against her belly.

Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, "God, you smell good."

"I thought you wanted to sleep."

He kissed the base of her neck. "I never said that."

"Yes… yes, you did."

"No," he corrected. He was kissing that wonderfully sensitive spot below her ear now, driving her to distraction. Her breath

caught in her throat when his teeth gently closed on her earlobe. "No?" she whispered.

"I said I wanted to go to bed. And you said…" His hands moved to cup the sides of her face. He looked into her eyes for

several long seconds, and then said, "… okay."

She was a goner and she knew it. His mouth covered hers in a long, hot, passionate kiss that let her know how much he wanted her. Her lips parted, and she felt a jolt of pleasure all the way down to her toes when "his tongue went in search of hers. Her

arms went around his waist, and then her hands began to stroke and caress him. She could feel the hard muscles under her fingertips, and when her hips began to move restlessly against him, she felt him tremble.

The kiss went on and on until she was gripping his shoulders and shaking with desire. It was decadent the way he made her

feel, and frightening too, because she had never experienced such passion before, never felt this kind of desperation to hold

tight and never let go. Oh, how she loved him.

They were both panting when he lifted his head. He saw the tears glistening in her eyes and went completely still.

"Michelle. Do you want me to stop?"

She frantically shook her head. "I'll die if you do."

"We can't have that," he said gruffly.

She tugged on his jeans, trying unsuccessfully to get them past his hips.

"Slow down, sweetheart. We've got all night."

And that was the problem. She wanted more than one night. She wanted forever, but she knew that wasn't possible, and so

she decided to take what he offered and cherish the moments they did have. She would love him in a way no other woman

could, with her heart, her body, and her soul. And when he left her, he would never be able to forget.

They shared another long, hot, open-mouth, tongue-thrusting kiss that only made them want more. He pulled away, stepped

back, and stripped out of his jeans. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He was beautiful. And fully aroused. The sight

of him overwhelmed her because he was so perfectly sculpted.

In the moonlight, his skin seemed to glisten like gold. She reached for the straps of her gown, but he stilled her hands. "Let me."

He slowly pulled her nightgown up over her head and tossed it on the floor.