The second explosion was even more enormous than the first. Behind her eyelids everything went white. She heard J.D. groan as he buried himself deep one last time and came in a hot rush. Then time and space ceased to exist.

Awareness returned layer by gossamer layer. She was breathing, a chore that consumed her concentration for several moments. When she thought she had it mastered, she worked at opening her eyes. Her eyelids seemed to weigh ten pounds each and required incredible mental stamina to raise. When the feat was accomplished, she was staring into J.D.’s ear. He lay heavily on top of her, motionless.

“Are we still alive?” she asked in awe.

He raised himself up slowly. His chest was heaving. There were bits of dead leaf caught in his chest hair. Mari reached up and gently brushed it away, focusing on the task, putting off the inevitable.

J.D. studied her carefully, taking in her fading blush and hooded eyes. There was a bruise on her cheek. He couldn’t remember whether she had it before. Her wild mane was snarled and tangled with twigs and crumbs of earth.

Christ almighty. They were in the middle of the woods, lying naked on a carpet of wet dead leaves. Around them life on the mountain went on as usual. A jay called thief! from somewhere in the canopy of branches above them. A yellow warbler sang merrily-wee-see-wee-see-wiss-wiss-u. A red squirrel darted past them and Zip bounded from between a pair of aspen saplings and gave chase, gracefully leaping over his master’s prone form.

Embarrassment washed through J.D. He never lost control with a woman. Never. Even as a teenager he had managed his lust with an iron fist. It was a point of honor, part of the pledge he had taken all those years ago. It rattled him to think he could forget those hard lessons in the time it took to unzip his jeans.

Mary Lee was looking up at him now, watching him carefully. Mary Lee, the outsider. Mary Lee, heir to the throne of Lucy MacAdam.

Jesus, Rafferty, what were you thinking?

He moved away from her, jerking his pants up and fumbling with the zipper. Mari watched him, a cold, hard lump of dread settling in her stomach. It occurred to her belatedly that this was what was wrong with wild, hot, mind-numbing sex. Afterward, when the novocaine of arousal faded, you were left with whatever pains and problems were there to begin with. Rafferty didn’t want her on his precious mountain. He couldn’t look at her without seeing Lucy and Bryce and everyone else who was trying to take his homeland away from him.

She sighed and reached for the multicolored ball of fabric that was her shirt. Untangling the sleeves, she pulled T-shirt and sweatshirt over her head together, then shook her hair and tried to comb her fingers through it to dislodge the debris.

“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” she said dryly.

J.D. shot her a look as he shrugged into his shirt. She was trying to be tough. She was trying to be as nonchalant about this as Lucy would have been. But she didn’t look tough or unconcerned. She looked fragile. As if she needed holding. God knew he wasn’t the man to offer comfort or reassurance. He shouldn’t have wanted anything more between them than animosity. That was safest. That was best.

Their gazes caught. Her eyes were clear and huge, like blue glass jewels set deep beneath her dark brows. Her mouth was a soft, vulnerable bow, her lips swollen from his kisses. Possessiveness surged through him. He couldn’t seem to stop it. He reached for her, pulled her into his embrace, his gaze locked on hers.

“If you think this is over, you’d better think again, Mary Lee.”

Mari blinked at him, breathless at the prospects his words opened up. “We’re not finished?”

“Not by a long shot.” He bent his head and nuzzled her cheek, nipped her throat, her earlobe. He stroked a hand down her back to her bare bottom. His fingers cupped and kneaded the ripe swell of one buttock. He pulled her snug against him and growled low in his throat as arousal tightened again in his groin. “Hell, we just barely took the edge off.”

THE TRUCK was dealt with. Upon arriving back at Lucy’s ranch, Clyde, the traitorous mule, was dealt with. In the bathtub of the guest room the mud was dealt with. Then they dealt with each other.

Mari felt strangely shy with him, considering. The time that had elapsed had given the reservations a chance to take root. What would this mean? Where would it lead them? She didn’t allow herself to answer. She wanted to live in the moment. She wanted to put the tangle of questions and doubts and fears on hold and exist just on instinct for a while.

J.D. seemed content with that idea as they stood in the tub. He focused his attention on her body, exploring with his hands and his mouth, experimenting with touch and pressure as the water rained down on them from the shower head. He seemed unhindered by qualms of any kind as he washed her back and chased the soap suds down with his hands, hands that then found their way around her rib cage and up to her breasts.

Dripping water all over, they found their way into the guest room. They fell across the bed, oblivious of the tears in the mattress and sheets, oblivious of everything but each other. The afternoon was cloaked in gray, the room cloaked in shadows that softened the chaos the vandals had left behind. Outside, another thundershower had rolled across the valley from the Gallatin side and the rain fell steadily, drumming on the roof and the skylight above the bed.

Mari felt wilder than the weather, out of control of herself, as if her body had taken on a will of its own, making up for all the time she had spent bending to the expectations of others. The sensations were thrilling and frightening, overwhelming all thought. She gave herself over to them, gave herself over to J.D.

He kissed his way down her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, the point of her hip, the sensitive spot just above the delta of curls on her groin. Mari moaned with a mix of pleasure and frustration and tried to urge him lower, but J.D. had other ideas. He slid his body up along hers in one long, exquisite caress and buried his face against the curve of her neck, murmuring hot, dark words in her ear.

Burning with need, Mari took the initiative, setting off on an exploration of his body. He was powerfully built. His was the body of a man who had done hard physical work his whole life. Beautiful was too feminine a word; handsome too civilized. Male. Utterly male. Shoulders broad enough to carry the weight of his world. A chest thick and deep and rough with dark hair. A belly ridged with muscle. A horseman’s powerful thighs and calves.

He was tough, muscular, scarred in spots. Mari kissed those spots, wanting to offer him softness and comfort, knowing he would take only what he wanted-her body.

Just sex, J.D. told himself, it’s just sex. The disclaimer chanted through his mind over and over. The assurance didn’t make the need any less or the urgency any tamer. It didn’t even begin to loosen the tension at the core of him.

He slid his arms around her, groaning at the feel of her breasts, the silk of her skin, amazed at the sense of rightness, of belonging inside her. Somewhere in his wary heart he thought dimly that he shouldn’t allow himself to feel this way. But then all thought was swamped by sensation, absorbed by instinct.

Their gazes held. They moved together.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain washed across the skylight. None of it mattered. Only this ritual as old as time. Only having her take the essence of what made him male deep within the most feminine part of her.

Over the edge. Into a free fall. And then there was stillness, within and all around.