For a minute he thought she was going to take that step.

Then she turned and closed the door behind her.

Dammit. He took a half step toward the door before his could stop himself.

No, it had been close. Don't ruin it because he was so hot he was about to explode. Be patient.

Patient? No way.

MEGAN LEANED AGAINST THE DOOR, fighting to keep herself from opening it again and going to him.

There it was again, sexuality, raw, hot, tingling, taking her breath away. An emotional and physical response that had completely blown her away.

Stop shaking. Get over it. Get your suitcases and leave the hotel and go find Renata. Not yet. Give it time.

If she saw him in the next few minutes, she wasn't sure they would leave the bedroom, much less the hotel.

THE COTTAGE WAS SMALL WITH a thatched roof and flowers in the window boxes.

"Talk about Sound of Music ambiance," Grady murmured as he held the car door open for her. "You expect to see Julie Andrews running back to the abbey."

She shook her head. "No mountains. Just forest. And I'd rather see Renata running toward us." She avoided his hand and got out of the car. "Is Harley supposed to meet us here?"

"Yes. The key is under the rock beside the door. I'll call him when we get inside." He moved toward the cottage. "He said he needed a nap. He's been watching her cottage since she arrived last night. I'll see you settled and then take over watching Renata for him."

"That's fine with me."

"I'm sure it is," he said dryly. "The more distance between us the more you'll like it. You're treating me as if I have a contagious disease."

It was true. On the trip here she had been very careful not to touch him even casually. Yet sitting beside him had still been too provocative. She had been able to feel the heat of his body, smell the faint scent of him. "Really?" She didn't look at him. "And you're cut to the quick?"

"No, I kind of like it. It encourages me to know that I'm having an impact. The worst response would be no response with a woman with your emotional makeup." He stopped at the door. "Coming?"

She hesitated and then came toward him. "You think you know so much about me. I'm not a Pandora and even if I was, I wouldn't accept being put into a niche. I'm me and that means my character, my attitudes, my soul. Screw you, Grady."

He grinned. "That's exactly what I'm aiming toward." He reached down and retrieved the key from beneath the rock. "And I hope you don't turn out to be a Pandora. I wouldn't wish that headache on anyone." He unlocked the door and turned to face her. "It would hurt you. I won't allow anything to hurt you, Megan. Not even me."

Dammit, she couldn't breathe. She was dizzy, melting.

"Oh, shit," he said unevenly, "You remember when I told you that you had to take the first step?" She nodded.

"I'm willing to renegotiate. Just say the word. Any word. As long as it's not no."

It should be no. She wasn't able to think clearly and logic should rule in a situation this volatile. She should be prudent and control this physical response that was making her weak. Yet all she could think about was the Neal Grady who had been her playmate and mentor that summer on the beach. Playmate and mentor... and the object of a young girl's first passion. He had said he had wanted her for years. How long had she wanted him? Had desire been smothered with memory or had it merely been kept burning low? It seemed impossible that it could ever have been any less than the need she was feeling now.

To hell with it. Reach out and take it. Take him. "Inside," she said shakily. "Now."

"That'll do." He grasped her arm and opened the door. "Oh, will that do. Come on, let's find a bed."

Her arm was tingling, hot, beneath his touch. "Hurry. I don't care about the bed."

"Good." He turned on the light and pushed her back against the front door. His body rubbed slowly against her as he tilted her head back. His lips pressed against the hollow of her throat. "I don't think I could wait anyway." He was unbuttoning her shirt as his tongue licked delicately at her neck. "Hell, my hands are shaking so badly I'm not sure I can get these clothes off you."

"I'll do it." She backed away from him and stripped quickly. "I don't trust you. If you have time to consider, you might come up with some stupid reason why you won't—" She stopped and inhaled sharply as his hand went between her legs. "Or maybe not."

"Good call." He was pulling her down to the floor. "I can't reason at all right now." He took off his shirt and threw it aside. He was astride her and she felt the roughness of the denim of his jeans against her inner thighs. The sensation was vaguely erotic, she thought dazedly. Everything about him was erotic, his scent, his hands between her thighs, his flushed face above her.

"How do you want it?" he asked hoarsely. "Tell me. Anything you want, Megan."

His hands were driving her crazy. She arched upward as she jerked him down to her. "Just do it, dammit. I don't care."

"I SUPPOSE WE SHOULD FIND THE bedroom." Grady's hands cupped her breasts from behind. "Or a shower." He pulled gently on her nipples. "Or a kitchen."

"Why?" Lord, she still wanted him, she realized in surprise. How many times had they come together in the past few hours? They had made love frantically, endlessly, with almost animal ferocity. "I don't want to move."

"I told you that I didn't want you hurt." He was rubbing her bottom. "And I'll bet you have rug burns on your ass."

"Maybe. Battle wounds."

"Now that the edge is off, I think we can get off this floor." He got up and reached down to take her hand and pull her to her feet. "Come on. The shower first, I think."

"You want to take a shower?"

"No, I want to continue doing what we've been doing in a different location." He was leading her across the living room. "I figure by the time I become guilty enough to call Harley and tell him I'm ready to relieve him that we'll have had time to make love in every room in this house. It's good that it's such a small place or Harley would be out of luck."

Make love. Not screw. Not fuck.

They were just words, she told herself. They didn't mean anything. Yet why did she feel this sudden flow of warmth that had nothing to do with passion?

"What's your view on kitchen tables?" Grady asked.

"Interesting. I don't believe I've ever done it on one."

"Good. I'll have to try to make sure the experience memorable. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed."

"YOU SHOULD CALL HARLEY," she said as she rolled over in bed. "He'll wonder why he hasn't heard from us."

"He'll make an educated guess. Harley is damn perceptive." He pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "In this case he wouldn't have to be. A blind man could have seen how I felt about you."

"Um-hmm. Lust is pretty difficult to hide."

He chuckled. "That's an understatement. Physically it's damn well impossible for a man." He reached for his phone on the bedside table. "You're certain I can't persuade you to forget about Harley for another hour?"

"No."

"Thirty minutes?"

"No."

"Fifteen? I promise I'll make it worth your time."