mma was fuming by the time she’d finished breakfast.Once again, Kenny had left to practice before they’d made plans for the day. Her research schedule was falling sadly behind. He kept forgetting that he was supposed to be working forher.

The phone rang twice, and a moment later Patrick called down from the second floor, “It’s for you, and I think I’m going to faint. The man says he’s a duke!”

Finally! Beddington had heard about last night, and he was calling to break off the engagement! She flew across the kitchen, took a deep breath, and picked up the wall phone that hung near the counter. “Good morning, Your Grace.”

“Emma, my dear, I’ve heard some distressing news.”

Her muscles tensed with anticipation. This was it, then. Within minutes, she’d be free of him, and, if luck was with her, St. Gert’s would still be safe.

“Word has reached me that you were seen purchasing a tabloid newspaper. A small point, I admit, but still troubling. I had no idea you read garbage like that.”

She frowned. Buying a tabloid had been her least scandalous activity. What about the rest?

She waited for him to mention the other purchases she’d made or comment on the fact that she’d misbehaved at the Roustabout. What about the fact that she’d kissed Kenny in front of the drugstore?

“If you must read those awful rags, would you at least get someone else to buy them for you?”

She held her breath and waited for him to comment on the pregnancy kit, the condoms, thelice shampoo!

“I nearly forgot. My sister asked me to tell you that she’s found a gown for you to wear to the engagement party. She’ll have it waiting when you get back.”

She sank down on one of the chintz-covered barstools at the counter, trying to think what to say. “Are—are you having me followed?”

“Followed? Of course not. I simply have my sources.”

“And that’s all your sources told you? That I bought a tabloid newspaper?”

“I can’t think why you’d be interested in such drivel. Still, if that’s your worst sin, I’m sure I can live with it. Anne, my second wife, was fond of the tabloids.” There was a pause as he turned away from the receiver to speak with one of his aides. “I have to go, Emma; I have another call waiting. And from now on, please try to remember that whatever you do reflects on me.”

He broke the connection before she could reply.

The blueberry muffin she’d enjoyed for breakfast clotted in her stomach as she sat on the stool, receiver in her hand, telephone cord twisted around her fingers. How could he know about the tabloid, but not the rest of it? She tried to sort out her thoughts, but nothing made sense.

Patrick came into the kitchen, eager to hear the details of Emma’s connection with a duke. She gave him a highly abridged version, and he was just beginning to press for more information when Torie entered from the front hallway. “Hey, Lady Emma. Let’s get hoppin’.”

She wore white jeans along with a light blue T-shirt, and her fashionably untidy hair tumbled from a bright yellow banana clip at the crown of her head. She was also working away at a piece of gum.

“Where are we going?”

“Driving lesson.” Torie spit her gum into the trash and immediately pulled another stick out of her pocket.

“I don’t have any desire to learn how to drive.”

“I know, but you’re going to anyway.” She plopped the fresh piece in her mouth.

“Really, Torie—”

“Haul ass, Your Ladyship. My royal chariot’s waiting. Or are you chicken?”

“Of course I’m chicken! Why do you think I’ve gone all these years without learning to drive?”

“All you have to do is steer up and down Kenny’s driveway. You can steer, can’t you?”

“Probably, but there’s no point.”

“There’s always a point to spitting in the devil’s eye.” Torie’s familiar green eyes held a challenge.

Patrick took Emma’s arm and drew her off the stool. “Do what she says, Lady Emma. Life’s too short to spend it bogged down by phobias.”

Emma could fight one of them, but not both, without looking completely spineless. “All right,” she said reluctantly. “Up and down the drive. But that’s all.”

It wasn’t all, of course. After half an hour in the drive, Torie somehow managed to bully her into pulling out onto the road by promising that hardly anyone ever used it.

Emma found herself with wet palms and a damp T-shirt, driving a car with the steering on the wrong side. As her fingers gripped the wheel, she fought the memory of that terrifying day when she’d been ten and she’d watched a bright yellow lorry come barreling toward the car.

She crept too close to the center line and jerked the wheel.

“Relax,” Torie said. “You’re fingers are going to start cramping up.”

“Stop cracking your gum!”

“Damn, you’re cranky. By the way, in this country we drive on the right side of the road instead of the left.”

“Oh, God!” Emma wrenched the wheel to the right, but didn’t straighten in time to keep the tires from biting into the gravel on the shoulder. Finally, she managed to maneuver the car into the proper lane. “You should have told me at once! I think I’m going to faint.”

“Take deep breaths.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this! Oh, Lord, Torie, there’s a car coming up behind us!”

“As long as you don’t slam on the brakes, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Why are youdoing this to me?”

“I decided to stop smoking, and I need a distraction. Making somebody else miserable seemed like a good idea.” Torie’s voice grew belligerent. “And I’m giving up cigarettes for myself, not for anybody else. So if anybody says anything to you about the fact that I’m not smoking, you tell him to mind his own gee dee business!”

“I can’t do this much longer. I want to stop.”

“There’s a diner in town. We’ll stop there.”

“Town! I can’t!”

“Now that you’ve got your tendency to drive on the wrong side of the road straightened out, you’re doing just fine.”

“I don’t—I don’t have a license.”

“I’m good friends with most of the cops around here. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried. I’m terrified!”

“We’re both still alive, so that should count for something.”

Somehow she made it into town and managed to pull into a large space next to the diner. She turned off the ignition and leaned back against the seat in relief.

Torie grinned. “Proud of yourself?”

Emma scowled at her.

“Come on, admit it. You’ve done something you didn’t think you could do.”

Now that her heart rate was beginning to return to normal, maybe she did feel a little proud. Being unable to drive limited her life in so many ways. Not that she could drive now. “I’ll admit I’m happy we’re still alive,” she said begrudgingly.

Torie laughed. “Come on. I’ll buy you coffee to celebrate.”

Inside Jimmy’s Diner a model train chugged along a track that ran just below the ceiling. Chrome chairs sat around tables covered in black-and-white-checked oilcloth, and two ceiling fans spun overhead. A blackboard near the entrance listed the day’s lunch special: chicken-fried pork chops, stewed okra, along with a carrot and “raisen” salad. Emma was uncomfortable with the idea of a young child coming in and seeing that, so she requested a piece of chalk from the woman at the register and corrected the spelling.

Torie hooted and hugged her.

They sat at a table that held A-1 Steak Sauce and Tabasco, along with the more usual condiments. On the wall next to them hung a painting of a rooster and a red lantern. As the model train passed over their heads, she saw that each car was painted with the sign of a local business.

While Torie sipped the coffee the waitress brought and Emma waited for her tea, she thought back to her conversation with Beddington. Why hadn’t the burly man told him everything he’d seen? What kind of incompetent spy had Hugh hired?

“Good morning, ladies.”

Dexter O’Conner approached the table. This morning he wore a yellow oxford shirt instead of blue. He looked pleasantly rumpled, a bit distracted, and rather adorable. She smiled at him. “Hello, Dexter.”

“Emma. Victoria.”

“That’s Lady Emma to you,” Torie snapped.

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I see your attitude hasn’t changed. You might as well go ahead and order your wedding dress.”

Emma expected Torie to leap all over that, but instead, she seemed to make an effort to pull herself together. She even managed to give Dexter a rather stiff smile. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. If it’s all right with Lady Emma, you can join us.”

“Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dexter smiled and took a seat at the end of the table.

“You’re not working today?” Torie said with forced politeness.

“I’m on my way. I’ve been staying late every night for weeks, and I decided to take some time off. What about you two?”

“I gave Lady Emma a driving lesson.”

“You don’t drive?” Dexter asked.

“She does now,” Torie replied.

“Only a very charitable person would describe what I was doing as driving.” Emma gave Dexter a lighthearted description of what had happened on the road, but instead of laughing, he encouraged her. Once again, she thought how nice he was, and, at the same time, she began to wonder if a match between Torie and Dexter was quite as outlandish as everyone seemed to think. They were both intelligent, attractive people, and each of them had something the other needed. Dexter’s stability could easily turn to stodginess as he grew older. And Torie seemed to need an anchor in her life.

The conversation drifted to other topics, and gradually some of Torie’s stiffness eased, until Emma began to believe she might even be enjoying Dexter’s company. That changed when Emma made the mistake of mentioning that Torie had stopped smoking.

Torie glowered, then stuck her finger in Dexter’s chest. “I’ve been planning to quit for months. It has nothing to do with you! Got it?”

He regarded her steadily. “I certainly do.” Ignoring the French-manicured fingernail implanted in his shirt-front, he turned to Emma and asked about her plans for the day.

With one eye on Torie, Emma told him she’d hoped to go to Austin. “I wanted to spend a few hours at the University of Texas library, but Kenny seems to have disappeared.”

“I’ll be happy to take you,” he said.

“Don’t you have to work?”

“Our main office is in Austin, and there are some people I need to see. I can do that while you’re at the library.”

“Are you certain about this?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I hadn’t wanted to.”

“Well, then, I’d quite love to. You don’t mind, do you, Torie?”

Torie frowned. “Why should I?”

Torie was obviously displeased, and Emma hesitated. Then she remembered her driving lesson and decided she wasn’t the only person who needed to look the devil in the eye. It might be good for Kenny’s sister to discover that not every woman found Dexter unappealing. “Excellent, then. I have my notebook in my purse, so I’m ready to go.” She thanked Torie for the driving lesson, then let Dexter lead her from the diner.

Torie scowled as she watched the door close behind them.Fine! She hoped the two of them bored each other to death.

Through the plate-glass window, she caught sight of Ted Beaudine. He walked up to Dexter and Emma, and they all chatted for a few minutes. The next thing she knew, Ted was climbing into Dex’s Audi, too, and all three of them were heading off to Austin. Without her.

“You want more coffee, Torie?” Mary Kate Pling called over from the counter.

“Uh, no. No, thanks.” She leaned back in her chair and thought about how much she liked Lady Emma. Still, nobody would ever call her drop-dead gorgeous. So how had it happened that she had just managed to drive off with Dex and Ted, while Torie Traveler, unanimously regarded to be the most beautiful girl in town, had been left behind?

She scowled, gazed down into her empty mug, and chalked her bad mood up to nicotine withdrawal.

Kenny was furious. “What do youmean, Emma went off to Austin with Dex?”

Torie climbed out of his pool and wrapped a towel around the three scraps of amethyst nylon that were passing for her bathing suit. “Ted went along, too.”

“Is that supposed to make it all right?”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? They’re all adults.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t stop her. At the very least, you should have gone along to chaperone. Why didn’t you do that?”

“Because I wasn’t invited! Besides, Lady Emma hardly needs a chaperone.”

“That’s what you think.” Kenny stalked over to the table and snatched up one of the glasses of iced tea Patrick had brought out for them.

His housekeeper regarded him with a speculative eye. “It’s flavored with passion fruit, Kenneth. Maybe you’d better drink something else. You don’t want to OD.”

Kenny ignored him. He knew exactly why Emma hadn’t invited Torie. She didn’t want any competition. Not that she’d try anything with Ted, since she knew whose son he was, but she’d been attracted to Dexter from the start. He rounded on his sister. “You listen to me. Dexter is your responsibility, and I want you to keep him away from Emma!”

“Mine!” Beads of water flew from her hair as she whirled around. “Damn, Kenny, are you jealous?”

That really made him mad. “Jealous! Of course not. It’s just that Emma’s sort of a—a sexual predator right now, and she’s got Dexter in her sights. The way she looks and everything—I mean, her mouth—well, the point is, if she sets her mind to it, it won’t take her long to get him in bed with her, and that wouldn’t be good... for him.”

“A sexual predator?” Torie stared at him.

“Since you’re a woman, you might have a hard time understanding, but you’ll have to trust me.”

“I’m not a woman,” Patrick drawled, “and I think you’ve lost your freaking mind.”

Kenny didn’t lower himself to pointing out the obvious. “Both of you’ll just have to believe me. Emma’s one of those women who was born with... The thing is, the minute aheterosexual man looks at her, all he can think about is—well, her mouth, and—”

“Emma?”Torie’s own mouth gaped in astonishment.

Patrick crossed his legs. “Maybe we’re not talking about the same person. British accent? Good appetite? Hums songs fromThe Lion King when she doesn’t think anybody’s listening?”

Kenny clenched his jaw in frustration. “I knew the two of you wouldn’t understand. I don’t know why I even tried to explain.” He glared at his sister. “You just keep Dexter the hell away from her!”

With that, he headed for his car. He wasn’t sure where he was going; he only knew he wasn’t hanging around so Torie and Patrick could laugh at him.

Torie watched his car peel down the driveway, then looked over at Patrick. “What was that all about?”

Patrick looked glum as he pushed his sunglasses on top of his head. “It seems I have a serious rival for Kenneth’s affections.”

“Ten minutes ago I would have said you’re crazy, but I don’t now. I like Emma a lot, but Kenny’s way out of her league. It’s like matching up Snow White with, well, Kenny Traveler.”

“I like her, too. As a matter of fact, I adore her. But, you’re right. She’s hardly his type. Still, I must admit Kenny’s little hissy fit has thrown me for a loop.” He gave a deep, tragic sigh. “You have no idea what it’s like being a victim of hopeless passion.”

Torie regarded him sympathetically. Everybody but Kenny knew that Patrick had been in love with her brother from the moment he’d started swinging his fists in that roadhouse fight. Torie used to feel sorry for Patrick, but, as she’d grown to know him better, she’d realized he loved the drama of unrequited love as much as he loved Kenny.

Still, Kenny lusting after Lady Emma? She’d known his suspension had thrown him into an internal tailspin. Maybe he needed an emotional resting place right now, and that was why he’d chosen Lady Emma. She was stable, available, and completely temporary. Thanks to their crazy mother, he didn’t know how to relate to women as friends, and he’d confused his emotional needs with sexual ones.

Torie frowned, already worried about Emma. No woman could resist Kenny once he had his sights set, and Lady Emma, for all her intelligence, lacked experience, which made her more vulnerable than other women. If Kenny didn’t come to his senses, she was going to end up with a broken heart.

Unless Dexter got to her first.

Torie shoved a stick of gum in her mouth and tried to tell herself that a mutual attraction between Emma and Dexter would solve a lot of problems. Torie’d be off the hook as far as marrying him, and Emma would be safe from all the heartbreak Kenny was going to bring her. Anyone could see that Dexter and Lady Emma were perfect for each other. He was a dweeb, but—All right! He was a sexy dweeb. And Lady Emma was a cute dweeb. The two of them were made for each other. So why didn’t Torie feel happier about it?

Maybe because she’d just this moment realized something completely crazy. She’d been looking forward to getting to know Dexter a little better. But that wouldn’t happen if Lady Emma’d already caught his attention.

Kenny sat on the chaise staring at the pool lights and having a serious love affair with a very expensive pinot noir. It was after midnight, but Emma still wasn’t back from Austin.

Although Kenny wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t stone sober, either, which was okay by him because he was a lot more pleasant when he was sober, and he didn’t want to be pleasant right now. He’d come out here after he’d made himself miserable watching a video of last year’s final round of the Masters, but he’d only watched the video because he’d been trying to distract himself from images of Emma getting naked for Dexter.

If it weren’t for Dallie, he’d be preparing for Augusta now instead of thinking about Emma naked. His short game had never been better, he’d cleared up the problem he’d been having with his driving, and something inside him had been telling him for months that this was his year to wear the green jacket. But instead of doing that, he was baby-sitting a domineering thirty-year-old virgin.

Above him, the lights went on in her bedroom. So, she’d finally returned. His eyes narrowed just as they did when he was lining up a lightning-fast downhill putt.

He took his time finishing his wine, then carried the bottle inside. Usually this place seemed to welcome him, but tonight it didn’t feel so friendly. Maybe the house knew what he had in mind.

Carpet muffled the sound of his shoes on the stairs. He heard water running in the guest bathroom and, without bothering to knock, pushed open the door of the bedroom where she was staying.

She’d already put her mark on the place. Her straw hat decorated with cherries hung over one poster of the bed, and, although the flower-filled vase on the chest of drawers bore Patrick’s artistic touch, the bright yellow teapot containing the same kind of wildflowers that grew near the pasture fence could only have been arranged by Emma. She had books open everywhere, along with a folder of her research notes, a pink lotion jar, and an enormous bar of Cadbury dark chocolate, with the wrapper peeled back to expose the jagged edge where she’d nibbled at it.

The clothes she’d discarded lay on the bed, along with a lavender bra printed with little white daisies. A matching pair of bikini panties lay on the carpet next to her sandals. He stared at them for a moment, then wandered around the room before picking up her jar of lotion. He unscrewed it and took a sniff.

Baby powder, flowers, and spice. Even in his not-quite-sober state, the symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

He carried the jar to an overstuffed chair, sat down, and stretched out his legs. He dipped a finger inside and pulled out a fat pink curl of lotion, then rubbed it against his thumb. It was silky and utterly feminine. He brought it to his nose and thought about how women’s things could lull men’s senses. But not his—never entirely—because mixed with all that soft and silky femininity was a female’s need to reshape a man to fit her image of what she thought he should be.

His own manhood had been so hard won that he’d never been tempted to put it at risk by letting another woman get a stranglehold on him, especially an opinionated one. There was a private place inside him that made up who he was, and nobody ever touched that. Yet somehow today Emma had done it. Not knowingly. But it had happened, and now it was going to end.

As he rubbed the lotion into his palm and replaced the lid of the jar, he thought that women weren’t the only ones who could manipulate. His need to survive as a man had made him a master at the subtle art of getting what he wanted without giving up a thing.

The bathroom door swung open. She gave a hiss of surprise as she saw him and fumbled with the bath towel. He glimpsed breasts rosy from her shower, soft nipples, and damp ringlets of pubic hair a darker shade of butterscotch than the curls sticking to her cheeks. Blood surged to his groin.

“Bugger!” She finally managed to secure the towel. “You scared the life out of me! What are you doing in here?”

“Back a little late, aren’t you?”

Emma felt her heart kick an extra few beats from fright. He looked dangerous—sensuous lips thinned, violet eyes hooded. Something had happened to set him off. “I had no idea you’d be waiting up.”

“You must have forgotten that I’m responsible for you.”

“Rubbish. I’m responsible for myself. Now you’d better leave.”

He uncoiled from the chair and studied her for a long, hard moment. “Did you manage to give it away tonight?”

It took her a moment to absorb what he was saying, and then an indignant reply leaped to her lips. At the very last minute, however, she discovered that her curiosity was stronger than her displeasure. What was bothering him enough to make him look like a Cold War interrogator? “Are you asking if I had sex with Dexter tonight? Is that what this is about?”

Unfortunately, her directness didn’t make him back down an inch. “It might have been tough with Ted looking on. But maybe the two of you managed to get rid of him.”

Which to do first? Put on her robe or dump a pitcher of flower water on his head? She decided to stick with this a bit longer. “We dropped him off at his house about three hours ago.”

“So you and Dexter have been alone since then? Just the two of you.”

The flower water was too far away. She marched to the closet and pulled out her robe. “And I enjoyed every minute I spent with him.” She shoved her arms into her robe, yanked the towel out from beneath, and secured the sash. “If you have anything else to say about this—and I strongly advise against it—we can talk in the morning.”

“Nothing happened between you and Dex, did it?” A strange expression had come over his face. Almost... relief?

“The passion of his lovemaking was exceeded only by my screams of ecstasy.”

He came toward her, but he seemed to be speaking to himself. “Of course nothing happened. I knew that all along.” One of his hands curled over the bedpost. “But something could have happened, which is why I’m telling you right now that I don’t want you alone with him again.”

“If you’d been around this morning,” she pointed out, “I wouldn’t have been.”

“I wasn’t planning to be gone for long.”

“I didn’t know that, did I?” She dumped her clothes on a chair.

“From now on, you will. First thing tomorrow, we’re heading for the range. Then the rest of the day is yours.”

“Thank you. Now good night.”

He didn’t budge. “It’s still early. Let’s go for a swim.”

“I just took a shower.”

“So what? You can take another one. Matter of fact, I’ll take one with you. Or—you know what?” He paused and his eyes dipped to her mouth. “How about we just skip the swimming part and go right to the shower?”

She no longer felt quite as much in control as she had earlier. “What are you getting at?”

“I guess it’s obvious I’ve been worried about you.”

“Whatever for?”

He dropped his hand from the bedpost. “Because I don’t believe you realize how vulnerable you are. I guess I didn’t realize it, either, or I’d never have said what I did about how nothing was ever going to happen between us.”

She blinked her eyes. What exactly did he mean by that? “I’m not vulnerable.”

“You sure are. You’re hell bent on sleeping with somebody, and both of us know it. Unfortunately—and this is where I’m starting to lose sleep myself—you don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re doing.”

She bristled. “Considering the fact that you’re in my bedroom right now, and I’m nearly naked, I suppose I can’t argue.”

“I’m the safest man in the world for you to be nearly naked with.”

“You? Safe?”

“Sure I am.” Her incredulity seemed to irritate him. “Just think about it. You saw right through me the moment we met. You know I’m only out for sex, and you don’t have a single illusion about me. I guess that makes me about perfect for what you need.”

She swallowed. “That’s true.” Except it wasn’t entirely true. Kenny liked to paint the worst possible picture of himself, but he wasn’t the villain he pretended to be.

He gave her a satisfied nod. “Tonight I made up my mind not to take any more chances that you’re going to hook up with someone completely unsuitable.”

“Somebody like Dexter O’Conner, for example?”

His eyes narrowed. “He’s your worst nightmare. In the first place, a man like Dexter’s not going to know much more than the bare minimum about sex, so you’re guaranteed to have a rocky initiation. And in the second place, he’s likely to get distracted somewhere along the line and forget about birth control. The next thing you know, you’ll be pregnant with a little nerd baby, but old Dexter will have forgotten your name.”

She laughed. Obviously, he didn’t know Dexter nearly as well as he thought. She wondered how he was going to react when he figured out that his sister, despite her protests, was attracted to the “nerd.” For that matter, she wondered what Torie would do.

Emma considered the irony of knowing that Dexter was exactly the kind of man she’d always wanted to fall in love with, but not once today had she caught herself fantasizing about how he’d look naked. He’d been a marvelous guide, a great conversationalist, and they’d had a wonderful time, but she hadn’t looked at his lips and imagined what they’d feel like touching her own.

She tore her eyes away from Kenny’s lips. “So you’re saying you’ve changed your mind?”

“I have to, don’t I?”

His air of self-sacrifice got her hackles up. “Don’t put yourself out.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you want to swim first, or just go right to that shower?”

“Forgive me for not being overwhelmed by your intensely romantic offer.”

“Not interested, huh?”

“Not a bit.”

He took a slow step forward. “Does this mean you aren’t attracted to me?”

“Sorry.” She noticed her panties on the floor, snatched them up, and thrust them into the pocket of her robe.

He sighed. “All right, then. I guess I’m a big enough man to handle honest rejection. It is honest, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s honest.”

“I’m not doubting your word or anything...” He came toward her in a lazy, sensuous movement that reminded her of oil sliding over water. “But just to be sure...” His slacks brushed her robe as he stopped in front of her.

“Kenny...”

He smothered her protest with his kiss.

She wouldn’t do it! She wasn’t going to give in to this blatant power struggle he’d mistaken for seduction.

And then his tongue glided over the seam of her lips, leaving heat in its path.

Her annoyance began to fade as he took his time, not rushing her but content to dabble. Oh, but there was something splendid about being kissed by a lazy man.

Her spine bumped the bedpost at the same time that his hips flattened against her own. He was already aroused. Huge. His body’s response entranced her, and she deepened the kiss.

His hand flattened against the base of her throat, ready to dip lower and cup her breast. She arched toward him, craving his touch, but he played in her mouth instead, dallying here and there in intimate tongue play that went on until only the bedpost and his body were holding her upright.

Her breasts ached for his hands, but he still hadn’t touched them. She rubbed against his chest to urge him on, letting the silk of her robe and the fabric of his shirt abrade her nipples. He didn’t take the hint.

No longer so content with his laziness, she dropped her hands to his hips and cupped his buttocks. They were as hard as the rest of him, so different from her own body, which was plump and pliant.

Their kiss went wild. She loved it—loved kissing him—had never imagined kissing could be like this. But she wanted more, and she pushed her hand between their bodies to open the knot of her robe.

He drew her down to the bed without missing a beat. But instead of going on from there, he kept kissing her.

She throbbed. She purred. She moaned her need into his mouth. “Kenny... please...”

He moved his lips to the tender spot just beneath her ear and dabbled there for a while. Her skin prickled, her toes curled. She realized she might very well melt all over the bedspread before he got to the good part.Lower!

Oh, why wouldn’t he hurry? Obviously, he needed a little prodding on her part, so she mustered her concentration and reached between them for the snap on his slacks.

He immediately rolled over on top of her and used his mouth to investigate the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat.

Her breasts! Why wouldn’t he touch her breasts? She wanted to plead with him, then realized she was too weak to speak.

He found an unbelievably sensitive spot on her collarbone, and she moaned against the top of his head. His hand moved lower.Finally!

But her relief was short-lived as his thumb slipped beneath the sleeve of her robe, only to stop and dawdle at her wrist. Herwrist! It was maddening! He was supposed to be an experienced lover, but he didn’t seem to have even the vaguest notion how to find the sensitive parts of the female anatomy.

The skin along the underside of her arm quivered at his stroking, and tiny shock waves shot through her middle. But instead of taking advantage of her all-too-obvious arousal, he kept dawdling! How could she overcome his natural laziness? How could she point him in the proper direction?

She would simply have to be more forthright.