They’d been wild during the night.

But now, with sunlight filtering into the room, she reached instinctively for the sheet, drawing it up to her breasts as she turned a nervous gaze on him. “I…meant to be out of here. Martique must be awake. She’ll—”

He cut in sharply. “Where did you get that tattoo?”

“What?”

“Your tattoo. Where and when did you get it?”

“I really don’t see that it’s any of your business!” she replied irritably.

Kyle took a deep breath, realizing that he was tense and acting like a drill sergeant. “It’s important, Madison.”

She stared at him for a moment, then started to turn away, as if anxious to find her robe and get out. He caught her arm. “Madison, get back here.”

“Let me go, Kyle.”

“Madison, two of the murder victims had rose tattoos.”

“Lots of women have tattoos.”

“Not just tattoos, rose tattoos.”

“I hadn’t heard—”

“And you won’t hear. The police are keeping the information quiet. When murders like these occur, they get dozens of cranks calling in, confessing to them. Information like this helps them weed out the phonies. Trust me, Madison, or hell! If you don’t trust me, call your sister. Two of the victims had rose tattoos. Another of the victims had just received a huge vase of roses. Now please, where and when did you get your tattoo?”

She paused, looking at his hand, where it rested on her arm. The look meant that he should let go. He didn’t.

“Kyle, I’ve had that tattoo since my first year of college. I was out with a bunch of my girlfriends. We went to a club, had a few drinks and all decided to get tattoos. Luckily, we weren’t too loaded, or it might have been a lot bigger.”

Kyle frowned, shaking his head. “What ever made you think about getting tattoos?”

She shrugged, her beautiful mane of auburn hair waving down her back, a small, rueful smile curling her lips. “We were college kids. On break, with too much time and too much money. We were being wild, decadent—adult, or so we thought. I think the tattoo parlor was somewhere in Virginia. Near Manassas, I’m pretty sure. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago. It was one of those things kids do—I had blue hair once, too.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And as to the rose, well…”

“Yes?”

Her eyes rested on his. “I guess I felt guilty.”

“Guilty? How?”

“I spent so much time not wanting to be like my mother. I still worry about it, now and again, I think because I’m the spitting image of her, and I—I don’t want to have a life like hers, though it does seem I’m on the path, doesn’t it?” She didn’t want an answer; she was already talking again. “I did love Lainie. She was a horrible wife, and she was selfish, but in her way, she was a wonderful mother. She was in costume and all made up for a play once, and the director yelled at her that my sitting on her lap was going to mess up her dress. She hugged me tighter and told him that her children were more important that any dress, and for that matter, they were more important than any play. She did love us. Anyway…Lainie had this rose.”

Kyle exhaled a long breath of relief. “Your mother had a rose tattoo?”

Madison nodded gravely, then smiled again. “Do you remember how your father used to call her his rose? He’d say that Lainie was just like the most glorious rose, so beautiful and sweet-smelling—and so full of thorns. She had her tattoo done because of your father. She said that she got it complete with thorns because she didn’t want him to forget that she had her own defenses. She said she needed her thorns. You wouldn’t have seen it, because my mother was hardly going to run around naked in front of you, whereas she felt perfectly natural dressing in front of her daughters. The night I had mine done, I’d had a few glasses of champagne, and you know my tolerance for alcohol. I was probably a little weepy, thinking about my mother, even though she’d been dead a long time by then. My friend Cathy Tarlington had a sailfish done, because her boyfriend was an avid sports fisherman. Jill Anderson got a beautiful heron—she’s still working to save the Everglades. And I had…a rose.”

Kyle stared at her, nodding after a moment.

“There’s nothing remotely dangerous about my tattoo.”

“I guess not. It’s just so curious. An incredible coincidence.”

“You might never have seen it.”

He met her eyes. “I think you’re wrong. I would have seen it eventually. Last night was long overdue, and you know it.”

“It couldn’t have been too long overdue. You haven’t been down here that long.”

“Well, I’ve been fantasizing since the night I got here. How about you?”

“I hadn’t fantasized at all,” she assured him regally.

“No?”

“No.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m not.”

“You told me you were so curious you couldn’t stand it. Not another minute.”

“I never said that.”

“You said something damned close.”

“Well, I wasn’t fantasizing—”

“I see. But your friends have been pointing out the fact that I might be a good lay?”

She arched one brow with elegant disdain. “What a way with words.”

“How do you want to put it?”

“I don’t.”

She started to rise, drawing the sheet along with her. He pulled it back. She let it go, spinning around to face him.

“Hey, I’m being honest,” he told her huskily. “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“The best what?”

“You just told me I’m too graphic.”

“I didn’t say that. Not exactly. The best what?”

He stared at her for a long moment, resting on an elbow. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had in bed. You’re beautiful, erotic and giving. And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be sorry.”

She paused, watching him. “I didn’t say I was sorry, either,” she told him. Then, moving with pure grace and elegance, she reached down for her green silk robe, but she didn’t put it on.

She meant to leave him, he knew. She would be back, he told himself. Oh, God, yes, she would have to come back! Because he was more obsessed than he’d ever been. Still, he luxuriated in gazing at her as she veiled her nudity. She was so beautifully built, and her skin had the perfection of porcelain. He had the sheet now, covering him. But once again, he was discovering that watching her was all he needed for an erection.

It might cause some problem in the days ahead, he reflected.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he asked.

“It’s morning. Martique—”

“Would never dream of saying a word to anyone.”

“I have to take a shower and get ready. We’re doing some more shooting for the poster today.”

“Madison, it’s not over six-thirty. And do you really have to do more photos? Jaime must have taken hundreds of shots yesterday. I’ve got to go back to Miami—”

“And I have to work here.”

Kyle stepped out of bed. Meeting her eyes, he took the emerald green robe from her hands. He didn’t want to argue with her. Not now.

“I can be really quick, I promise,” he vowed solemnly.

“Kyle…”

“Really quick.”

He tugged at the robe more forcefully. “Once you get away,” he told her, taking the green silk garment from her and letting it fall back to the floor, “I don’t know when I’ll get you back again. Don’t leave me like this.” He pulled her into his arms and molded his hands over her buttocks, forcing her against his pelvis.

A smile twitched at her lips. It was good enough for him. He swept her up and laid her down.

And once he had her there…

It was impossible to let her up.

He was nowhere near as quick as he had promised.

Okay, she had walked into his room, Madison reminded herself. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t glad to have done so. Darryl had been a good lover, giving, exciting….

It was just that nothing in life was like being with Kyle. His passion was so explosive, each touch bringing new sensation. When she thought she was tired, he could reawaken her. When she thought she would die from reaching such peaks, he lifted her over another one. It was wonderful. And he was so vocal, telling her that she was the best lover he’d ever had. In defense of her soul, she didn’t dare return the compliment.