"It's compassionate. She loves that horse-"

"She's a nine-year-old kid with a serious spinal condition. She isn't qualified to make the decision as to whether or not she can ride a horse. Neither are you."

"She did great. Nick, she laughed, for God's sake. She laughed! The instant she got on that horse, she came alive."

"I'm aware of her wants, McNeal. I don't need you pointing them out to me."

"Are you sure about that?"

Nick tried to bank his boiling temper, but she was pushing him too hard. "You don't know anything about her. You sure as hell don't know anything about me."

"Maybe I know more than you think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know about the accident, Nick. I know what happened to your wife. I know why. I think that explains a lot about you."

He paused two feet away from her. If he got any closer, he wasn't sure what he would do. Kiss her, maybe; he was too angry to be rational. He didn't have a rational bone in his body when it came to this woman.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Rita," he said.

"Maybe this has more to do with her than you realize."

"This is about you and your recklessness and the havoc that kind of recklessness wreaks on people's lives. Stephanie and I have been through it once, and I don't plan to let you or anyone else put us through that same hell again."

"Life is full of risks," she said softly. "You can't stop living because you're afraid of getting hurt."

"Don't get living and living dangerously confused, McNeal. Not everyone has your taste for adrenaline."

"This isn't about me. It's about you and the fact that you're holding on too tight-"

"This is about you risking my daughter's safety because you need some kind of personal absolution."

"Maybe I'm just a convenient scapegoat because you can't face your own fears."

Nick's control snapped with an almost audible click. Anger and fear and another emotion he didn't want to name burst free, like shrapnel exploding from a bomb. He reached Erin in a single, swift stride. Her eyes widened, but he didn't stop. Grasping her arms, he moved her backward. "You have a real gift for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

She gasped when her back met the wall. "You're out of control."

Nick knew he'd lost the battle for emotional distance-if he'd ever had that to begin with when it came to this woman. He'd somehow gotten tangled up with her, physically, emotionally, and the only way he knew how to save himself was to drive her away once and for all.

"Damn right I am," he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

Erin hadn't expected Nick to kiss her gently. She'd expected urgency and heat and the fire she'd seen in his eyes.

What she got was nothing like what she'd expected.

His kiss spoke of desire. The raw sensuality of it overwhelmed her. He tasted of restraint and frustration harnessed by a tattered veil of discipline that was quickly disintegrating. The combination took her breath away and tested every ounce of control she possessed. A well of unleashed emotions rushed through her like a river bursting its banks. She rode with the current, letting it push her, tumble her, until she barely knew up from down, until she no longer cared.

His hands slipped from her biceps, down her arms, igniting every nerve ending along the way. His fingers entwined with hers. All the while his mouth undermined her judgment, tore down her defenses until she stood silent and still and accepted him with every fiber of her being. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she welcomed him. Vaguely, she was aware of him sliding her hands upward, until he pinned her to the wall, her hands stretched above her head, his body snug against hers. She felt the weight of him, the hard shaft of his arousal like steel against her belly. Blood pooled in erogenous zones she never knew existed.

Nick tore his mouth from hers. He was breathing hard, his breath warm and sweet against her cheek. He gazed at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Let's have it out, McNeal," he whispered. "Right here. Right now. You know I want you. Let's cut to the chase and get this out of our systems once and for all."

Without waiting for a reply, he kissed her. Hard. Hungrily. With an unrelenting intensity that left her dizzy from a troubling mix of confusion and lust. She shouldn't be kissing him back. She knew better than to play with fire. And at the moment, Nick Ryan was like a powder keg about to explode. Erin knew she would be the one to get burned. He didn't care about her. He was angry with her.

So what was he doing kissing her? What was she doing letting him?

Her intellect told her to pull away. To stop the insanity before things went too far. But her body refused the command and proceeded to betray her. Vaguely, she was aware of his hands sliding down, skimming her shoulders, pausing at her breasts. The contact brought a moan to her lips. Her nipples beaded. Her breasts swelled against his hands, straining against the confines of her bra. The ache between her legs turned liquid and soft.

"What do you say, McNeal?" he whispered. "There's a loft a few feet away. I don't think we can ignore this much longer."

Anticipation coiled deep inside her. When his fingers went to the button of her slacks she didn't stop him. A gasp escaped her when his hand pressed flat against her belly. She wanted to protest, but his kiss battered her senses. Too much stimuli coming too quickly for her brain to process. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. She didn't seem to need either of those things as long as he didn't stop touching her.

A mewling sound broke from her lips when his finger slipped inside her. The contact shocked her. His boldness stole her breath. Her body arched involuntarily. She cried out, but his kiss swallowed the sound. Control fluttered away, taking the last of her wisdom, the last of her dignity. Her body clenched, released. The madness built like a storm, promising a violent end. She opened to him. Felt the burn of his fingers against her most intimate place. He stroked her, driving her higher, closer to the edge, beyond the point of no return.

"Don't fight it, McNeal," Nick whispered darkly. "Don't fight me."

The meaning behind his words shocked her. She'd never known need could be so powerful. She wanted Nick more than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. More than she thought herself capable. But even as he kissed her like she'd never been kissed before, and caressed her body with hands that were driving her slowly insane, his anger stood between them as tangibly as a block of ice. She couldn't let him touch her out of anger.

Putting her hands against his chest, she twisted away from him. "I can't do this." She stumbled back, flushed, embarrassed, her body trembling. "Not like this."

Nick let her go, his eyes dark and menacing, his nostrils flaring with each breath. "Why not?"

Erin turned away from him, unable to face him, struggling to control her breathing. "You're angry."

"That didn't seem to bother you a moment ago."

"I don't want this to happen out of anger."

"What exactly do you think is going to happen?"

She stared straight ahead, starkly aware of him behind her, appalled that she'd stepped right into his trap. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing's going to happen."

"You sure about that?"

Erin knew what he was trying to do. Push her away so he wouldn't have to face the fact that there was more going on between them than either of them was willing to admit. Emotions and issues that didn't have anything to do with matters of the flesh.

Humiliation that she'd lost control burned through her. She didn't give her body on a whim. She hadn't taken a lover since her disastrous breakup with Warren years ago. Until she met Nick, she hadn't even missed the physical aspect of a relationship.