He backed away from the house and began walking, Charlotte's body stuck to the front of his. He crossed the drive toward his yard. Charlotte laughed.

"Where are you taking me?"

He stopped in his tracks. He said nothing, but just hugged her even harder.

"Joe?"

"I was going to take you to my bed, but I realized that probably wouldn't be a wise idea."

"Yeah. We need to be going."

Joe laughed. "Right. Want to ride in my car?"

Charlotte pulled back a little so she could look down into Joe's face. That baseline melancholy she sometimes saw in Joe was back, not quite hidden by his gentle smile. She kissed that smile, brushed her fingers through all his thick black hair, and wondered what made him so sad.

"I'd love to go for a ride in your car. The boys talk about it all the time."

"So I hear. Let's go."

She unhooked her legs and slipped down the front of his body until her feet hit the driveway. Joe took her hand. "Oh, wait! You really should change your shirt," she said.

Joe frowned and glanced down at himself. "You don't like this shirt?"

Charlotte laughed. "I love the shirt. But I don't think you have any idea what you're getting into-the concession stand is a pit of grease."

"Ah. Then come with me and I'll change."

Charlotte hadn't been inside the Connor house since before they began packing, so the bareness of the place shocked her. She stepped inside through the pool patio door to the kitchen, immediately noticing that there was no fruit on the counter. No art on the walls. No candles on the family room mantel. Just a black leather couch, one lamp on one end table, and a dinette set with two chairs. Joe lived simply.

"I'll be right back." He began walking toward the center hallway.

"I'm waiting down here?"

He turned to face her, the sadness back with a vengeance. "Please. If you don't mind."

The hurt was immediate. Apparently, Charlotte was good enough to grope in the drive but not good enough to let upstairs. She shrugged and looked down at her sandals.

Joe walked back to her. "Charlotte?".

At the brush of his fingers on hers, she looked up.

"I am not used to having a woman in my life. I've been alone a very long time."

She nodded and swallowed, overwhelmed by the serious tone of his voice and the pleading in his expression.

Whatever he was about to tell her was difficult for him.

"Okay," she whispered.

'There are things about me that I don't usually share with anyone."

"Your writing."

He smiled a little. "Because of the nature of my work, I've become a very private person."

"So you don't want me in your bedroom."

Joe's eyes closed, and she marveled at how long and lustrous his eyelashes were against his cheek. Joe's children would be beautiful creatures. And the next thought hit her before she could protect herself-their children would be beautiful creatures.

"I want you in my bedroom bad, Charlotte."

"We have about thirty seconds until we have to leave. Go change your shirt."

"I'm going to have you."

"Yes, you are, Joe."

He didn't have to say a word. They were driving along the state highway just past Main Street when the scent of honeysuckle whooshed down on them through the open roof of the Mustang. Charlotte's little hand landed on the top of his right thigh, telling him everything he needed to know.

She remembered, just as he did.

She'd cried that day so long ago. He'd never been with a woman who cried during sex, and it baffled him. She assured him she wasn't crying because she was sad or hurt, but only because it felt so good.

That first time, she'd straddled him. He thought it would make her feel more in control and less in danger. He didn't want to scare her or make her run. He only wanted to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her from the instant he saw her zoom by in that little car on the Beltway, red hair flying around that angelic face. It had been a primal urge. He had no choice but to follow her and get her.

He nearly hooted with joy when that notebook flew up and out of her car. If that wasn't a sign, he didn't know what. was.

The surface of her skin had been satin smooth and hot from the sun. Her entire little body was covered in that creamy pale satin. She felt ethereal under his hands. Fragile and delicate. But the way she kissed him-goddamn- that was anything but delicate. She was greedy and pushy and kept making these blissful little moaning sounds as her hands ran over his body and her lips attacked his. She might have been petite, but she had a big appetite for sex.

The second time, he took her standing up, much like the kiss they'd just shared in her driveway. In fact-feeling her ass in his hands, her legs clamped around his hips-it was like those thirteen years had never even happened. She tasted the same. She felt the same. And Joe wondered if he'd ever really existed outside her flesh and her heat and the sound of her voice.

He glanced over at Charlotte next to him and watched her hair whip in shiny flames around her face. Today was then or yesterday was now, he didn't know which, but he knew that he was right where he was meant to be-at this woman's side.

"Do you remember the third time we made love?" she asked.

Joe laughed. Apparently, his brain was the projector and his forehead the movie screen and she'd had a front row seat for the show.

"Hell yes, I remember." The third time had been the best And the most intense thing he'd ever experienced.

Joe took her hand from his thigh and raised it to his lips. Then he put it right back where it had been, only his hand now cupped hers.

As he looked at the profile of her face in the mellow evening light, he told himself that he would find a way to love this woman and keep her safe. It was possible. Every day he spent in Minton made him feel closer to normal. Every day he spent in her presence made him believe that anything was possible.

"I couldn't help myself that day, Charlotte. I wanted you so much. I just went crazy."

"It was a good crazy, Joe."

"A great crazy."

He'd never gone soft that day with her so long ago; As soon as he came, he was ready again. One look at her- from her smoky gray eyes to the sweet patch of honey red fuzz below her belly-and-he'd felt like there would never be adequate release. She was a drug, and he couldn't get high enough.

So he'd eased her down on her back and spread her thighs wide, running a finger along her to be sure she was ready. He found her swollen and tender and so slippery that his finger disappeared inside her with the slightest pressure. When he removed his hand, he'd seen the blood. It wasn't much and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he'd stared at his finger for a long moment before he dared look up at her face.

What he'd seen in her expression blindsided him- naked vulnerability and pure female lust. Tears spilled down the sides of her face and into the hair fanning out beneath her in the honeysuckle. She offered him a shy smile, in spite of the tears, and whispered, "Thank you for this."

He'd been unable to come up with a reply.

Her smile widened.

"Why are you crying?" he'd asked her.

She'd reached up and touched his face, caressing his brow and cheek. "Because you're everything I needed."

And that's when it hit him-this woman wasn't a playful conquest. She was a gift-a rare and beautiful gift

He'd nearly begged her, "Tell me your name, baby. Please."

She'd pressed a fingertip to his lips. "Shhh."

He'd licked at that finger, then pressed his mouth on hers as he penetrated her. He'd cradled her in his arms, feeling the sheen of tears, sweat, and honeysuckle blossoms that seemed to cover every inch of their skin. She'd cried out into his open mouth, shuddered beneath him, and gripped him so tight he could feel every bone in her body.