Shane didn’t so much as crack a smile. He started to turn away, but Faith’s voice stopped him.

“Shane,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

She watched him struggle to mask confused emotions. His granite will won out, and he merely gave her a curt nod, then strode purposefully out of the room. The silence he left in his wake was almost painful.

Finally Jayne cleared her throat and said delicately, “Correct me if I’m wrong here, honey, but I think we just witnessed a very significant moment.”

Faith’s only answer was another delicate blush. How was she supposed to explain what was going on between Shane and herself when even she wasn’t certain where they were headed?

Alaina’s expression was a cross between wary and worried. “I thought you didn’t want to get involved with him.”

“I don’t seem to have a choice,” Faith said, staring at the door Shane had left through. “I’m in love with him.”

The captain’s suite was Faith’s favorite room in the inn. Located on the second floor of the Victorian part of the house, Captain Dugan’s bedroom had a large window that overlooked the ocean and allowed the afternoon sun to spill in. The furniture in the room was big and masculine-a massive mahogany bed with a flat canopy of cream-and-black brocade, marble-topped tables, an enormous chest of drawers, a regal-looking William and Mary arm chair with a black velvet seat cushion.

She had painted the room a rich shade of cream and accented it with pristine white and deep red. Many of the captain’s personal possessions had been used as decorative pieces, including his brass-bound sea chest, which now served as a storage place for extra blankets at the foot of the bed. Adjacent to the bedroom was a luxurious bath, and beyond that was a small, comfortable sitting room. Faith was certain this suite would quickly become a favorite with patrons of the inn.

Deep in thought, she wandered around the bedroom tucking potpourri sachets into drawers, wondering what to do about Shane. When the bedroom door swung open and he stepped inside, her heart squeezed painfully at his expression. He was definitely back to being guarded and wary. Her gentle lover had vanished, slipped behind his cold wall of isolation.

“So,” he said, his gaze roaming the elegantly appointed room, “this is where the infamous captain spent his nights.”

“Yes. I think he still does.” She managed a small laugh at the sharp glance her statement earned her. “Things get moved around in this room without my help.” She motioned to a small, perfectly horrible, oil painting of a ship that hung above the dresser. “Twice I’ve taken that down and put it in the attic. Twice it’s been back hanging on that wall the next morning. I’m told the ship in the painting was the captain’s favorite.”

Shane scowled at both the painting and the implication, and began prowling around the room, taking in every detail of the walls and floorboards.

Faith watched him with weary amusement. Ever the skeptic, she thought with a dying smile. He was skeptical about everything-love included. In fact, it was probably at the head of his list. She had taken hope for a few moments this morning at the breakfast table when he had reached out to give her support. Shane’s concern for her had overridden his deep-seated sense of caution, but his guard had quickly slipped back into place.

Now he flipped the light on in the closet and walked in, running his fingertips along the newly painted walls, pressing gently. Faith rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “Shane, you’ve been over every inch of this house. There are no secret passages.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“So you keep reminding me,” she muttered, unable to keep the bitter edge from her voice.

He turned and looked at her, his gray eyes stormy. “It’s best if we both remember why I’m here.”

“You’re right, of course,” Faith said, her voice suddenly tight with unshed tears. She pushed herself away from the closet door and went to stand by the table where her sachet supplies were neatly laid out. She stared down at the squares of lace, bits of satin ribbon, and dish of fragrant rose petals and lavender, unable to work up the strength to touch any of it.

She didn’t have any right to hurt, she thought. Shane had warned her he couldn’t get involved. But to be perfectly honest, she had to admit the romantic in her had never quite accepted that. All along she had secretly believed giving him her love would unlock his heart and free him to love her in return.

Would she never learn?

Shane swore under his breath and left his search to follow her. He stood behind her, staring at the rigid set of her slender shoulders, willing himself not to touch her. “Faith, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she whispered, reaching down deep inside for a scrap of strength and wondering when that well was going to run dry. “I’m a big girl. I knew the rules going in. You don’t have to worry about me. I told you I didn’t expect promises. Please don’t let what I said this morning ruin what time we have together.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said thickly, not surprised that his resolve was crumbling. He could no more keep from touching her than he could keep from breathing. His hands came up to cup her shoulders, his fingers gently rubbing at the tension in her muscles. “It’s just… more complicated now.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured automatically. Immediately she wanted to take the words back. What did she have to be sorry for?

“No,” she said angrily, turning to face him with dark eyes blazing. “I’m tired of having to apologize. I love you, and I won’t feel sorry for it. If that makes your job or your life complicated, that’s just too darn bad.”

Shane swore-more at the conflict within himself than at Faith. His professionalism was being torn to shreds because of his attraction to this woman. The frightening thing was that a part of him didn’t give a damn. Arguments chased each other around in his head. All the while he stared down at Faith’s heart-shaped face, the defiant expression she wore. Slowly logic receded until all he could focus on was the lush bow of her mouth and the heat of desire glowing inside him.

Faith trembled as Shane’s hands tightened on her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh, burning her through the fabric of her cotton sweater. The look he wore was primitive, almost savage. His eyes held a silver light that seemed capable of boring straight through her. A muscle in his strong jaw flexed as he lowered his head toward hers.

“You make me crazy,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.

Then his mouth was on hers, taking, plundering, and Faith could hear nothing but the blood pounding in her ears. The heat that flared between them burned away everything but desire. She surrendered to it immediately, melting against Shane’s big hard body, her hands going up to clutch at his broad shoulders. She welcomed the thrust of his tongue, drinking in the taste of him.

For Shane arousal was instantaneous. The truth was it had never left him. Even after a night of making love with her, he wanted more. Desire had not been burned out; he had simply banked it, and now it flared up full force, searing him with an inner heat that demanded release.

He swept a hand down the curve of Faith’s supple back to cup her bottom, his fingers kneading her soft flesh and gathering up the fabric of her gauzy cotton skirt. Lifting her, he pulled her hips to his, pressing her against the hard ridge of his masculinity. A deep groan rumbled up from his chest as Faith ran her leg up the outside of his thigh and squirmed to get even closer to him.

The shrill ring of the telephone brought them both back from the edge of sensual oblivion. It was on the tip of Shane’s tongue to tell Faith to let the damn thing ring, but he caught himself at the last instant and stood her away from him.