he helicopter's rotor was still whipping when Noah reached the main deck, looking for Sloan. He passed one of the crew who was securing the deck furniture in preparation for getting under way, and rather than waste time looking for her, Noah said abruptly, "Is Miss Reynolds aboard?"

The crewman knew only three significant things about Miss Reynolds—the rumor among the crew was that she'd been a close friend of the FBI agent who'd caused his employer's ship to be impounded; she'd been accused of murder; and she'd been brought aboard by his employer's young sister who told the crew to keep her presence a secret The man decided his safest course was complete ignorance. "No sir, not as far as I know."

Noah nodded and frowning, he walked up the exterior steps to his stateroom. It would have been impossible for the launch or the helicopter to have arrived without the crewman on deck noticing that. Apparently, Sloan had changed her mind about coming to talk to him, which seemed very odd.

Shoving his hands in his pockets he stared at the king-size bed where he'd shared so many hours of stormy passion and quiet conversation with Sloan and he began to wonder how much truth there'd actually been in Richardson's defense of her. The woman Noah had watched on that videotape wouldn't have been afraid to confront him if she were innocent.

Sloan stood in the doorway behind him, working up her courage. She'd had a few hours to think about the reality of what had happened between them, and despite Courtney's belief that Noah would be willing to forgive and forget, and everything would be rosy once he saw her, Sloan didn't think that was true. This wasn't a fairy tale. The reality was that she loved him with all her heart, but she had brought him nothing but public humiliation. The reality was that Noah had never said he loved her, he didn't believe in marriage, and he didn't want children. Besides that, they were from two entirely different worlds. The most she could hope for now was honesty during this last visit and perhaps, someday, his forgiveness.

She stepped forward, shaking with nerves, fortified with determination. Noah had his back to her, his hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly bent, as if he was lost in thought. "I came to say goodbye," Sloan said softly.

His shoulders tensed, he turned around slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I came to ask you to forgive me, and I know that will take you a long time." Sloan paused to steady her voice, her eyes pleading with him to believe her and understand. "I don't blame you for how you feel about me. I wanted to tell you the truth so many times, but Paul was afraid you'd say something to Carter." Trying to keep her voice from shattering with the love and sorrow she felt, she drew a long breath and then went on. "I should have told you anyway, because I knew in my heart you wouldn't. But in a way, it's best that things came to such a quick end for us. It would never have worked out for us."

He spoke for the first time. "It wouldn't?"

"No." She gestured toward the elegant stateroom. "You're you… and I'm… me."

"That's always been a tremendous drawback for us," he said, straightfaced.

Sloan was so shaken that she didn't catch the thread of amusement in his voice. "Yes, I know, but that wouldn't have stopped me from falling more hopelessly in love with you every day. You don't want marriage, and I would have wanted to be your wife."

"I see."

"I love children," she said achingly. Tears were blurring her vision so badly that she could hardly see him.

His gaze on her, Noah reached down slightly and pulled the cover back on the bed.

"And you don't want children."

He unbuttoned the collar of his shirt.

"I would have wanted to have your baby."

He unbuttoned the next button…