"Take your time." His voice was hoarse, almost guttural, and there was tension about his massive shadow that generated a matching nervousness within her. She couldn't decipher his expression in the dusk, but she could feel his gaze on her. She was suddenly conscious of her partial nudity and had the impulse to scramble hurriedly back into her shirt. How very stupid! She was wearing more than she customarily did on the beach and they were in a situation where practicality, not modesty should prevail. "I wish I had something else to wear," she said with forced cheerfulness.

"I have another shirt in my backpack that you can have." He was moving slowly toward her. "It will probably come down to your knees but at least it's clean." He paused beside her, looming over her like a solid wall. "I'll go and get it."

She shook her head. "Then you won't have anything to wear. I've taken too much from you already.' She tilted her head to gaze up at him. "I'm very grateful, you know. I don't think I told you that."

"I don't want your gratitude." He dropped to his knees beside her. "I'm going to want a hell of a lot of things from you, but gratitude isn't one of them." He laid his rifle on the ground beside him. His fingers were rapidly unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it off. Then he was bending over the creek, delving into the water and scrubbing his face and throat with the energy that characterized his every movement. The bronzed muscles of his shoulders and back were rippling and sliding as he moved, and her gaze clung to him compulsively. He wasn't really handsome by any conventional standard. There was no reason for her to get this breathless and to be unable to look away from him. Virile magnetism and the muscular grace of a Roman gladiator were all he possessed. All? It was more than enough to make her knees go weak and cause her hands to shake so badly that she could hardly hold on to the handkerchief.

He was splashing the cool water on the cloud of furry hair on his chest now, and she could see the water beading his flesh. She had a sudden impulse to lean forward and lick the drops away. The  thought sent a thrill of pure shock through her. Desire.

Despite the assurance of the psychiatrist she'd been seeing every week for the past six years, she had never believed she would experience that particular emotion. Yet how could this primitive yearning be anything else?

She could feel her breasts swell, their peaks hardening in an incredible response. She wanted to cover that response with her hands, but that would have been too revealing an action. She snatched up her shirt instead.

"No!"

Her eyes widened and flew swiftly to his face.

His gaze was on her full breasts veiled only by the sheer lace of the bra she wore. His face was heavy with a sensuality that made her catch her breath. "Not yet," he said huskily. "Come here."

Her tongue moistened her lips. "I don't think that would be a good idea. This situation is so . . . extraordinary that our reactions are a little out of kilter."

"Yours may only be out of kilter, but mine are going crazy." His finger reached out to touch the betraying prominence of one nipple through the lace of her bra. "And I think you're progressing nicely in the same direction."

She flinched back. It was as if she were being stroked with electricity when he touched her so lightly.

He smiled crookedly. "See?" His hands cupped her shoulders gently. "Pretty explosive, isn't it?"

"All the more reason . . ." He was pulling her into his embrace and she was yielding like a bit of metal to a magnet. Why wasn't she struggling? Then she was pressed against the warm hardness of his chest and she forgot about questions. His fiery mat of hair was stroking her woman's softness with flames of sensation. Her head was swimming and she couldn't seem to get her breath. She trustingly rested her cheek against him with a little sigh. "This is a mistake, Daniel. It's too soon. We don't know anything about each other."

"We'll find out everything we need to know." His fingers were tangled in her hair as he pulled her head back to look into her eyes. The expression emanating from his own eyes was grave. "Just a little now. I won't ask more than you want to give." He shook his head ruefully. "Five minutes ago I was promising myself I'd be very cool and patient. Now all I can do is promise I won't throw you down and rape you." He lowered his head slowly. "I want to be so gentle with you, Zilah. I've never felt this way before. I usually like it hard and fast, but not with you." His warm breath was feathering her lips. "I want to savor every touch." The first brush of his lips was so light she scarcely felt it. Then he captured, held, and cherished her. His lips moved, brushed, angled as one caress became a hundred. Taking breath and warmth and yet giving more back than he took.

How lovely, Zilah thought dreamily as her hands moved to caress his shoulders. He was so smooth and warm. So strong to be so gentle. It was all so new. As if each kiss, each touch were being created at this magic moment. How did he manage to create sorcery like that?

"Zilah."

"Hmmm."

"Open your lips, love. I want to taste you." His fingers were combing through her hair with tactile sensuality while he coaxed her lips apart. "Don't you want to taste me too?"

"Yes." She wanted to taste everything about him, touch every part of him, with a hunger that amazed her. Then his tongue was warm on her lips, lazily brushing, before he plunged inside, exploring her teeeth, toying playfully with her tongue. It was an intimacy performed so lovingly that it became surprisingly natural, even comfortable. She almost laughed aloud when that thought filtered through the sensual haze Daniel was weaving about her. How could she be sp aware in every throbbing pore and still think it comfortable, for heaven's sake?

Daniel's hands were fumbling beneath her hair and she felt a sudden loosening. Then he was slipping the straps of her bra off her arms while his lips covered hers. Flesh to flesh, warmth to warmth,

hard muscle against the soft cushion of her breasts.

A wrenching ache began throbbing between her thighs. "Oh, Zilah, isn't this great, love?" He pushed her away to look down at her. "It's getting too dark to

see you, damm it." He gave her a swift, hard kiss. Come on." He was on his feet, his hand grasping hers and pulling her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" she asked, startled.

He draped his discarded shirt around her carefully before picking up his rifle and her bra and blouse. "Back to the cave," he said. "I can't see you in

the dark and I won't risk your neck and mine making love to you out here in the open. "

"Is that what you were doing?" she asked quietly.

"Making love?" He shot her a glance. "You're damn right I was making love to you. If I was just using you sexually you'd know it, Zilah. I'm not very subtle."

She suddenly giggled, feeling ridiculously lightheaded. "Hard and fast?"

"Right." His hand was at her waist, propelling her up the hill. "With lots of fireworks. You'll like it like that, too, I hope, but we'll start out slow and easy."

She stiffened and was silent for a long moment. "I don't think I'm ready for . . . fireworks," she said hesitantly. "This has come as something of a surprise to me."

He didn't answer until they had reached the mouth of the cave. "Like I said, we'll keep it slow and easy. Right now I kind of like the idea of courting you." His grasp tightened on her waist. "Just don't try to shut me out entirely. I couldn't stand it after touching you. I'll do without the Roman candles, but a few firecrackers are required."