Clearly, it would not be enough to provide comfort to her. He wanted her. He had to have her. So Lucio raked his fingers through her hair, tore out the ponytail holder, and tossed it to the floor. In one motion, Lucio grabbed a fistful of all that fiery hair, tilted her head back, and claimed her mouth with his.

The power in that kiss left him dazed. It felt as if he had pulled her very spirit inside him and delivered his own into her. Their bodies melded. His heart melted. They collapsed to the tile floor, where he cradled her in his arms.

It was not enough. He could not get enough. She was hot and sighing and pushing her breasts against him as they kissed with such abandon that Lucio felt a jolt of confusion. Where had this kind of need originated? Why had he never felt it before? Lucio thought he'd experienced all that sex had to offer!

God. Take me. Ginger's breath was hot against the side of his neck. I want it. Now. Please. Please don't make me wait another day for you.

She clawed at his clothing. He helped her unbutton his shirt, open his belt, pull off his trousers. With two smooth and economical movements, he had the sports bra up over her head and the exercise pants down around her ankles. She lay there before him in the glow of the skylight, wearing only a pair of the flimsiest, palest pink panties he'd ever seen. He could see her red curls pushing up against the crotch, her juices already darkening the thin strip of material. That thin strip was the only thing between him and her opening.

Joder! he hissed roughly, dragging his lips over her belly, her thighs, back up to her breasts and hard nipples. It was a beautiful realizationthe soft pink of her nipples matched the soft pink of her panties. She was beyond beautiful. Her hands were in his hair.

Without warning, her body seized under his touch. She called out his name. She had come from the merest attention. He hadn't put his lips to her sex and just barely sucked on her breasts, yet she'd come in a fierce shudder.

How deprived she must be.

Suddenly Ginger sat up, her back straight, horror claiming her face. Get up. Now. Get your clothes. Go!

What?

She jumped to her feet, pulling up her pants. It was over! For some reason, Ginger had taken herself from him, and now she was ordering him to get dressed. He had not been intimate with many American women. Briefly, he wondered if this were a particularly aggressive type of foreplay.

Get in the living room! Go! Here, take your clothes! Hurry! Ginger shoved him toward the sitting room.

Lucio stumbled through the room and around the corner to the dining area, where he stood behind the wall as he dressed. This was not foreplay, he decided. This was him getting the boot.

What is wrong? What is going on? Lucio had seen women change their minds, most certainly, but never with this conviction and speed.

The little dog began to bark. Ginger had already pulled on the sports bra and was tucking her hair back into its holder when the front door flew open.

From his hiding place, Lucio saw two tall, towheaded young men. One opened a bloody mouth to show missing teeth. The other opened the folds of a towel, which contained the teeth.

In the car. Now. The boys did as ordered. Ginger raced to the kitchen and back to the door in seconds. In one hand she carried a pair of athletic shoes and in the other a purse. Clenched in her teeth were a set of keys. With a panicked glance in his direction, she slammed the door behind her.

She was gone.

The dog toddled up to Lucio and sat at his feet, the very tip of her little pink tongue protruding from her tiny lips.

Is it always so unruly here in the Garrison home? he asked her. Is this your natural habitat?

She wagged her miniature feather duster of a tail, her tiny black eyes filled with anticipation.

I suppose this is where I show myself out, yes?

Lucio strolled through the sitting room and back to the foyer, the dog at his heels. He spied a telephone table near the door, where there was memo paper and a pen. He jotted down the phone number for Rick's Pacific Heights home and this message: I will be waiting for you.

He moved toward the door, almost stepping on the little white dog, which had placed itself between him and the exit. It was almost as if she wanted him to stay.

Is there something you need?

Those must have been magic words, because the dog popped up and toddled away, looking over her shoulder to make sure Lucio was following, which he was. Admittedly, he knew very little about domesticated canine behavior, but this struck him as unusual.

The dog went into the nicely furnished sitting room, and made her way to the far corner, near the fireplace. On the floor was a bed. A dog bed. Lucio cocked his head to make sure he was seeing what he was seeinga creamy cafe au lait satin pillow, tufted. A matching little blanket, also satin. A bed ruffle, pleated. All on a raised platform about six inches off the carpet. The dog waited.

I am at a loss, little one, Lucio said. What is it I'm supposed to do?

With that, the white fluff ball put her front paws on the edge of the pillow, glanced over her doggie shoulder, and waited. Lucio had seen that look many times in his lifeit was the look of a woman who expected a door to be opened or a chair to be pulled out. There was no mistaking it.

Lucio took a few cautious steps toward the dog. He leaned down and picked up her hindquarters and scooted her onto her throne. The poofy-headed creature circled a few times before she settled in, resting her pointed little nose between her front paws. Then she turned her face away and closed her eyes.

Lucio laughed softly. He knew the meaning of that universal gesture, as wellhe had just been dismissed.

He let himself out.

There were so many reasons Ginger was unhinged that she hardly knew where to begin.

Joshua was in oral surgery because his twin brother had punched him in the mouth, knocking out one top and two bottom teeth. Their fight had been over Larry, who was not answering his cell, his pager, or his hospital or private practice line. All the while, his nurse hadn't a clue where he was.

And there Ginger sat, outfitted in a sports bra and a bare midriff, an ensemble she hardly felt comfortable wearing at home with the blinds drawn, let alone in public. The man three chairs down didn't seem to mind her clothing selection, however, and Ginger clutched her bag to the front of her body, trying not to smear dried blood on the orange leather.

Worse yet, Ginger could not stop cringing at how she'd let a hot rush of insanity rule her the second Lucio Montevez walked through her front door. She'd never had such a ferocious sexual response in her life, including the night on the porch. Apparently that was just the way it was with Lucio Montevez. All he had to do was show up, and Ginger was stripping down. No one had ever done that to her. Just as no one had ever looked into her eyes and instantly known the truth.

You have never known a man's love, have you?

How could a stranger know this about her when she'd only recently acknowledged it to herself?

Ginger fidgeted in the plastic waiting room chair. It was horrible to admit, but it bothered her that she'd left Lucio in her house. Alone. She wasn't thinking he'd steal the big-screen TV, necessarily, but it did highlight an unsettling reality: She'd almost had sex on the floor with a man she didn't know well enough to leave in her home unsupervised.

What the hell was I thinking?

As all of this tumbled around in her mind, she had to wondermaybe Lucio really was what Mrs. Needleman had warned her about. Maybe Lucio was who she'd warned her about. Maybe meeting him really was more than a coincidence.