t was a nightmare. Only this time, Delaney was definitely awake. The evening had started out wonderful enough. The wedding ceremony had gone smoothly. Lisa looked beautiful, and the pictures afterward hadn’t lasted too long. She’d left Henry’s Cadillac at the church and ridden to the Lake Shore with Lisa’s cousin Ali, who owned a salon in Boise. For the first time in a long while, Delaney had been able to chat hair trends with another professional, but most important, she’d been able to avoid Nick.

Until now. She’d known about the wedding dinner of course, but she hadn’t known the tables would be organized in a large open rectangle with all the guests seated on the outside so everyone could see everyone else. And she hadn’t known about the arranged seating or she would have switched her engraved placecard to avoid the nightmare she was living.

Beneath the table, something brushed the side of Delaney’s foot, and she would bet it wasn’t an amorous mouse. She pulled both feet beneath her chair and stared down at the remains of her filet mignon, wild rice, and asparagus spears. Somehow, she’d been seated on the groom’s side, sandwiched between Narcisa Hormaechea, who clearly didn’t care for her, and the man who refused to cooperate and let her ignore him any longer. The harder she tried to pretend Nick didn’t exist, the more pleasure he took in provoking her. Like accidentally bumping her arm and making her rice shoot off her fork.

“Did you bring your handcuffs?” he asked next to her left ear as he reached across her for a bottle of Basque Red. His tuxedo lapel brushed her bare arm.

Like an erotic movie wrapped for continuous play, visions of his hot mouth on her naked breast played in her head. She couldn’t even look at him without blushing like an embarrassed virgin, but she didn’t need to actually see him to know when he raised his wine to his lips, or when his thumb stroked the clear stem, or when he shoved his black bow tie into a pocket and removed the black stud at his throat. She didn’t have to look at him to know he wore his pleated cotton shirt and tuxedo jacket with the same casual ease he wore flannel and denim.

“Excuse me.” Narcisa touched Delaney’s shoulder, and she turned her attention to the older woman, who had two white streaks on the sides in her perfect dome of black hair. Her brows were lowered and her brown eyes were magnified behind a pair of thick octagon-shaped glasses, making her appear a little like a myopic Bride of Frankenstein. “Could you pass the butter, please?” she asked and pointed to a small bowl sitting by Nick’s knife.

Delaney reached for the butter, careful to keep any part of her from touching Nick. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something rude, crude, or socially unacceptable. He didn’t utter a word, and she immediately grew suspicious, wondering what he planned next.

“It was a beautiful wedding, don’t you think?” Narcisa asked someone further down the table. She took the bowl from Delaney, then ignored her completely.

Delaney didn’t really expect warm fuzzies from Benita’s sister and turned her gaze to the bride and groom, who were surrounded by parents and grandparents on both sides. Earlier, she’d braided Lisa’s brown hair in an inside-out coronet. She’d stuck in a few sprigs of baby’s breath, and wove in a piece of tulle. Lisa looked great in a white off-the-shoulder gown, and Louie was quite dapper in his black tails. Everyone seated near the bride and groom appeared happy, and even Benita Allegrezza smiled. Delaney didn’t think she’d ever seen the woman smile, and she was surprised at how much younger Benita looked when she wasn’t glaring. Sophie sat next to her father with her hair pulled up in a simple ponytail. Delaney would have loved to have gotten her hands and scissors on all that thick dark hair, but Sophie had insisted her grandmother fix it for her.

“When is it your turn to get married, Nick?” The booming question came from down the table.

Nick’s quiet laughter mixed with the other noise in the room. “I’m too young, Josu.”

“Too wild, you mean.”

Delaney glanced a few feet down the table. She hadn’t seen Nick’s uncle in a long time. Josu was stocky like a bull and had florid cheeks, due in part to the amount of vino he’d poured back.

“You just haven’t found the right woman, but I’m sure you’ll find a nice Basque girl,” Narcisa predicted.

“No Basque girls, Tia. You’re all too stubborn.”

“You need someone stubborn. You’re too handsome for you own good, and you need a girl who will tell you no. Someone who won’t say yes to you all the time about everything. You need a good girl.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Delaney watched Nick’s long blunt fingers brush the linen tablecloth. When he responded, his voice was smooth and sensual, “Even good girls say yes eventually.”

“You’re bad, Nick Allegrezza. My sister was too easy on you, and you’ve grown into a libertine. Your cousin Skip is always chasing skirts, too, so maybe it’s genetic.” She paused and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Well, how about you?”

It was probably to much to hope that Narcisa was talking to someone else. Delaney lifted her gaze to Nick’s aunt and stared into her magnified eyes. “Me?”

“Are you married?”

Delaney shook her head.

“Why not?” she asked, then looked Delaney over as if the answer was written somewhere. “You’re attractive enough.”

Not only was Delaney sick of that particular question, she was getting really tired of being treated as if there had to be something wrong with her because she was single. She leaned toward Narcisa and said just above a whisper, “One man could never satisfy me. I need lots.”

“You’re kidding?”

Delaney choked back her laughter. “Don’t tell anyone because I do have my standards.”

Narcisa blinked twice. “What?”

She put her mouth even closer to Narcisa’s ear. “Well, he has to have teeth, for one.”

The older woman leaned back to get a good look at Delaney, and her mouth fell open. “My lord.”

Delaney smiled and raised her glass to her lips. She hoped she’d scared Narcisa off the subject of marriage for a while.

Nick nudged her arm with his elbow and her wine sloshed. “Have you found any more notes since Halloween?”

She lowered her glass and wiped a bead of wine from the corner of her mouth. She shook her head, doing her best to ignore him as much as possible.

“Did you part your hair with a lightening bolt?” Nick asked loud enough for those around them to hear.

Before the wedding, she’d done a zig-zag part, pulled the flat bangs behind her ears, and teased the crown into a nice little bouffant. With her hair back to blonde, she thought she looked like a 60’s go-go dancer. Delaney lifted her gaze up the pleats of his cotton shirt, to the exposed hollow of his tan throat. No way was she going to get sucked in by his eyes. “I like it.”

“You dyed it again.”

“I dyed it back.” Unable to resist, she raised her gaze past his chin to his lips. “I’m a natural blond.”

The corners of his sensuous mouth curved upward. “I remember that about you, wild thing,” he said, then picked up his spoon and tapped it on the edge of his glass. When the room fell silent, he rose to his feet, looking like a model out of one of those bride magazines. “As my brother’s best man, it is my duty and honor to toast him and his new bride,” he began. “When my big brother sees something he wants, he always goes after it with unyielding determination. The first time he met Lisa Collins, he knew he wanted her in his life. She didn’t know it then, but she didn’t stand a chance against his tenacity. I watched him proceed with an absolute certainty that left me bewildered and, I admit, envious.

“As always, I am in awe of my brother. He has found real joy with a wonderful woman, and I am happy for him.” He reached for his glass. “To Louie and Lisa Allegrezza. Ongi-etorri, Lisa. Welcome.”

“To Louie and Lisa,” Delaney toasted with the other guests. She cast a glance upward and watched Nick tip back his head and drain his wine. Then he sat once again, relaxed and easy with his hands in the pockets of his wool pants. He pressed his leg against the length of hers, as if it were as unintentional as breathing. She knew better.

“Ongi-etorri,” Josu echoed, then unleashed a Basque yell that started out like mocking laughter but quickly changed into a cross between the ooh of a wolf’s howl and the expiring ahh of a braying donkey. Other male relatives joined Josu and the dining room reverberated with the sounds. While each family member tried to outdo the other, Nick leaned in front of Delaney and grabbed her glass. He filled it and then his own, in typical Nick style: he didn’t ask first. For one brief moment, he enveloped her in the smell of his skin and cologne. Her heart beat a little faster and her head got a little lighter as she breathed him in. Then he was gone and she could almost relax again.

Lisa’s father hit his spoon against his glass and the room fell silent. “Today my little girl...” he began, and Delaney shoved her plate away and folded her arms on the table. If she concentrated on Mr. Collins, she could almost ignore Nick. If she concentrated on Mr. Collins’s hair, which was a lot whiter than she remembered, and his—

Nick lightly brushed his fingers over the top of her thigh, and she froze. Through the sheer barrier of nylon, his fingertips swept her from knee to the hem of her dress. Unfortunately, it was a short dress.

Delaney grabbed his wrist beneath the table and stopped his hand from sliding up the inside of her thigh. She looked into his face, but he wasn’t looking back at her. His attention was focused on Lisa’s father.

“... to my daughter and my new son, Louie,” Mr. Collins finished.

With his free hand, Nick raised his wine glass and toasted the couple. As he took two big swallows, his thumb stroked the top of Delaney’s leg. Back and forth his fingers caressed over the smooth nylon. Sensation she couldn’t ignore settled low in her abdomen and she squeezed her legs together. “Aren’t you going to toast the happy couple?” he asked.

As carefully as possible, she shoved his hand, but his grasp tightened. She pushed a little harder and accidentally bumped Nick’s aunt.

“What’s that matter?” Narcisa asked. “Why are you wiggling around?”

Because your libertine nephew is inching his hand up my thigh. “No reason.”

Nick leaned toward her and whispered, “Be still or people will think I’m copping a feel under the table.”

“You are!”

“I know.” He smiled and turned his attention to his uncle. “Josu, how many sheep are you running this year?”

“Twenty thousand. Are you interested in working for me like when you were a boy?”

“Hell no.” He slanted her a look from the corner of his eye and chuckled deep in his chest. “I have my hands full right here.” His hot palm warmed her flesh through her pantyhose, and Delaney sat perfectly still, trying to appear as if the heat from Nick’s hand wasn’t pouring through her body like a warm flood. It swept up her chest and down her thighs, tingling her breasts and pooling desire between her legs. Her grasp on his wrist tightened, but she was no longer sure if she was holding his hand to keep it from moving further up her leg, or to keep it from moving away.

“Nick.”

He tilted his head toward hers. “Yes?”

“Let go.” She pasted a smile on her face like she and Nick were chatting up a good time, and let her gaze skim the crowd. “Someone could see you.”

“Tablecloth is too long. I checked.”

“How did I end up sitting next to you anyway?”

He reached for his wine and said behind the glass, “I switched your little name card with my Aunt Angeles’s. She’s the mean looking lady sitting over there clutching her purse like someone’s going to mug her. She’s a Rottweiler.” He took a drink. “You’re more fun.”

Angeles stuck out like a storm cloud on an otherwise sunny day. Her hair was scraped up into a black bun, and her scowl lowered her dark brows. She obviously didn’t like being stuck among Lisa’s family. Delaney moved her gaze down the table, past the bride and groom to Nick’s mother. Benita’s dark eyes stared back at her, and Delaney recognized the look that used to unnerve her as a child. “I know you’re up to no good,” it said.

Delaney turned to Nick and whispered, “You have to stop. Your mother is watching us. I think she knows.”

He looked into her face, then gazed past her to his mother. “What does she know?”

“She’s giving me the evil eye. She knows where you’ve got your hand.” Delaney glanced over her shoulder at Narcisa, but the older woman had turned and was talking to someone else. No one but Benita seemed to be paying any attention to them.

“Relax.” His palm slid up another half an inch, and the tips of his fingers drifted along the elastic leg of her underwear.

Relax. Delaney wanted to shut her eyes and moan.

“She doesn’t know anything.” He paused a moment, then said, “Except maybe that your nipples are hard and it isn’t cold in here.”

Delaney looked down at her breasts and the two very distinct points in the red velvet. “Jerk.” She shoved his hand at the same time she shoved her chair backward. Grabbing her velvet handbag, she walked from the dining room and hurried down two different narrow hallways before she found the women’s restroom. Once inside, she took a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. Beneath the fluorescent lighting, her cheeks looked flushed, her eyes overly bright.

There was definitely something wrong with her. Something that made her brain-dead where Nick was concerned. Something that allowed him to caress her in a room filled with people.

She tossed her red velvet handbag on the counter and ran a paper towel under cold water. She pressed it against her warm face and sucked in a breath. Maybe she’d been on the wagon so long, she was suffering from sexual deprivation. Starving for attention and affection like an abandoned cat.

A toilet flushed behind her and a hotel employee appeared from a stall. As the woman washed her hands, Delaney opened her bag and pulled out a tube of Rebel Red lipstick.

“If you’re with the wedding party, they’re cutting the cake now.”

Delaney looked at the woman through the mirror and smeared red across her bottom lip. “Thanks. I guess I better get back then.” She watched the hotel employee leave and dropped her lipstick back into her little purse. Using her wet fingers, she smoothed the front of her hair and fluffed the back.

If Lisa and Louie were cutting their wedding cake, then dinner was officially over and she wouldn’t have to sit by Nick any longer.

She grabbed her bag and swung open the door. Nick leaned back against the opposite wall in the narrow hallway. The sides of his tuxedo jacket were brushed aside, and his hands were buried in his front pockets. When he saw her, he pushed away from the wall.

“Stay away from me, Nick.” She held out a hand to hold him off.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her against his chest. “I can’t,” he said softly. He crushed her to him, and his mouth slashed across hers in a fiery kiss that left her numb. He tasted like unchecked passion and warm wine. His tongue caressed and plundered, and when he pulled back, his breathing was uneven, like he’d just run the mile.

Delaney placed a hand over her racing heart and licked the taste of him from her lips. “We can’t do this here.”

“You’re right.” He grabbed her arm and propelled her down the hall until he found an unlocked linen closet. Once inside, he pressed her backward against the closed door, and Delaney had an impression of white towels and mop buckets before he was on her. Kissing her. Touching her anywhere his hands landed. Her palms slid up the pleats of his shirt to the warm sides of his neck, and she combed her fingers through the side of his hair. The kiss became an avaricious feeding frenzy of mouths and lips and tongues. They tore at each other. Her handbag fell to the floor, and she pushed at the shoulders of his jacket. She kicked the little velvet pumps from her feet and raised onto the balls of her feet. Like a complete wanton, she hooked a leg over his hip and strained against the swollen ridge of his erection.

He groaned his pleasure deep, deep within his chest, and pulled back to look at her through eyes heavy with lust. “Delaney,” he said, his voice rough, then he repeated her name as if he couldn’t quite believe she was with him. He kissed her face. Her throat. Her ear. “Tell me you want me.”

“I do,” she whispered, pushing his jacket from his shoulders.

“Say it.” He shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it to the side. Then his hands were on her breasts, and he brushed her hard nipples through the velvet dress and lace bra. “Say my name.”

“Nick.” She trailed kisses down his neck to the hollow of his throat. “I want you, Nick.”

“Here?” His hands moved to her hips, her behind, holding her against him, grinding against her soft inner thigh.

“Yes.”

“Now? Where anyone could walk in and find us?”

“Yes.” She was beyond caring. She ached with desire and emptiness and the need for him to fill her with pleasure. “Tell me you want me, too.”

“I’ve always wanted you,” he breathed into her hair. “Always.”

The tension inside her built and pulled and made her mindless to anything but him. She wanted to climb on top of him. Inside him, and stay there forever. He rubbed his straining erection back and forth against her aroused flesh.

Nick removed her leg from him and bunched the hem of her dress and slip in one fist, holding them up as he shoved her hose and silky panties down her thighs to her knees. He planted his foot in the crotch of her underwear and nylons, pushing the garments to her feet. Delaney kicked them free, and his hand moved between their bodies, and he touched her between her legs. His fingers slid into her slick flesh and she shuddered, feeling herself slowly propelled toward climax with each caress. A moan slipped past her lips, a husky sound of need.

“I want deep inside you.” His gaze locked on hers and he shrugged off his suspenders, leaving them to hang at his sides. His hands tore at the waistband, fumbling with the button and zipper closing his wool pants. Delaney reached for him and pushed his cotton briefs. His penis jutted free in her palm, huge and hard and smooth as polished teakwood. His skin stretched tight and he slowly pushed himself into her tight grasp. “I have to have you—now.”

Nick lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. The voluptuous head of his hot erection nudged her slick opening. Their flesh touched, and he reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around the shaft of his penis. He forced her down as he thrust upward inside, stretching her until a stitch of pain invaded Delaney’s erotic haze, but he withdrew, then buried himself deep, and there was nothing but intense pleasure. The penetration was so powerful and complete, his knees buckled and for one tense moment she feared he might drop her, but he didn’t. His grip on her hips tightened; he withdrew then plunged into her again, deeper. “Sweet Jesus,” he gasped as his powerful body crushed her against the door. His chest heaved as he fought to pull air into his lungs, and his uneven breath whispered across her temple, the sound of his passion and pleasure all the same.

Her legs tightened around his waist and she moved with him, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the pressure built. Her heart beat in her ears as he hammered into her, over and over, pushing her closer to orgasm with each thrust of his pumping hips. Like their frantic mating, there was nothing slow or easy about the intense pleasure that grabbed her, pulled her down, and turned her inside out. Tremor upon tremor shook her, rippled across her flesh, and robbed her of breath. She felt weightless, and a sound like a hurricane thundered in her head. Her back arched and she clutched at his shirt. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her dry throat. His strong arms crushed her against his chest, his big shoulders shook, and he held her tight as wave after luscious wave continued to roll through her. Her muscles contracted, gripping him tight within her. Her spasms had barely slowed when his began. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he plunged into her. His muscles turned as hard as stone, and he whispered her name one last time.

When it was over, she felt battered and bruised, as if she’d just lived through a battle. Nick rested his forehead on the door behind her until his breathing slowed and he pulled back far enough to look into her face. He was still embedded deep within her body and their clothes were in disarray. Carefully he eased himself out of her, and she lowered her feet to the ground. Her dress slid down her hips and thighs. His gray eyes looked into hers, but he didn’t utter a word. He studied her for a moment longer, his gaze more guarded with each passing second, then he reached for his pants and pulled them to his waist.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

He glanced at her, then returned his gaze to his pants. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who like to talk afterward?”

Something wonderful and awful had just happened, she wasn’t quite sure which. Something more than sex. She’d had her share of orgasms in the past, some really good ones, too, but what she’d just experienced was more than getting off. More than waves crashing and the earth quaking. Nick Allegrezza had taken her someplace she’d never been before, and she felt like sitting down and crying about it. A sob escaped her throat, and she pressed her fingers to her lips. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want him to see her cry.

His gaze shot to her as he shoved his shirttails into his pants. “Are you crying?”

She shook her head, but her eyes began to water.

“Yes, you are.” He threaded his arms through his suspenders and snapped them in place.

“I’m not.” He’d just given her the most intense pleasure of her life, and now he calmly got dressed as if this sort of thing happened to him all the time. Maybe it did. She wanted to scream. To curl up her fist and hit him. She’d thought they’d shared something special, but obviously they hadn’t. She felt raw and exposed, her body still aching from his touch. If he said something nasty, she was afraid she’d shatter. “Don’t do this to me, Nick.”

“The damage is done,” he said as he retrieved his jacket from the floor. “Tell me you’re taking some form of birth control.”

She could feel the blood drain from her face and she shook her head. She thought back to her last period and felt a glimmer of relief. “It’s the wrong time of the month for me to get pregnant.”

“Honey, I’m Catholic. A lot of us are conceived at the wrong time of the month.” He pushed his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and straightened the collar. “I haven’t forgotten a condom in about ten years. How about you?”

“Ah...” She was a woman of the nineties. In charge of her life and her body, but for some reason she couldn’t talk about this with Nick without getting embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“What exactly does ‘ah... yeah’ mean?”

“You’re the first in a really long time, and before this, I was careful.”

He studied her for a moment. “Okay,” he said and tossed her underwear and pantyhose to her. “Where’s your coat?”

She clutched the garments to her chest, suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. An odd delayed reaction, considering what she’d held in her hand a few moments before. “On a rack by the front doors. Why?”

“I’m taking you home.”

Home had never sounded so good.

“Get dressed before a maid decides she needs some towels or something.” His unreadable gaze stared into hers as he pulled on his cuffs. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then slowly opened the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Once she was alone, Delaney looked around the room. She spotted her handbag by her left foot, a velvet pump beneath a step chair, and the other beside an empty bucket. Without Nick to distract her, thoughts and self-recriminations came rushing at her. She couldn’t believe what she’d done. She’d had unprotected sex with Nick Allegrezza in a linen closet in the Lake Shore Hotel. He’d made her lose complete control with nothing more than a kiss, and if it weren’t for the lingering physical proof, she probably wouldn’t believe it even now.

She carefully sat on the step chair and put on her underwear and pantyhose. Just last month she’d assured Louie that she and Nick wouldn’t do anything to cause gossip at his wedding, yet she’d had wild sex with his brother behind an unlocked door where anyone could have caught them. If anyone found out, she’d never live it down. She’d probably have to kill herself.

Just as she pulled her hose to her waist and shoved her feet into the shoes, the door swung open and Nick entered the small room. She had trouble looking at him as he held her coat open for her. “I need to tell Lisa I’m leaving.”

“I told her you got sick and I’m taking you home.”

“Did she believe you?” She glanced up quickly, then shoved her arms into her wool coat.

“Narcisa saw you run out of the dining room and told everyone you looked like death.”

“Gee, maybe I should thank her.”

They left out a side door, and white downy snow drifted from the black sky and settled on their hair and shoulders. A new layer slid inside Delaney’s pumps as she made her way across the parking lot toward Nick’s Jeep. Her feet slipped from beneath her, and she would have fallen on her behind if he hadn’t reached out and grabbed her upper arm. His grasp tightened as they walked across the slick ground, but neither of them spoke, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath the soles of their shoes.

He helped her into the Jeep, but didn’t wait for the engine to warm before he shoved the four-wheel drive into gear and headed away from the Lake Shore. The inside of the Jeep was pitched in darkness and smelled of leather seats and Nick. He stopped at the corner of Chipmunk and Main and reached for her, practically pulling her into his lap. The tips of his fingers touched her cheek as he looked down into her face. Then slowly his head lowered and he pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her once, twice, and stayed the third time to leave a soft lingering kiss on her lips.

He pulled back and whispered, “Buckle your seatbelt.” The wide tires spun until the knobby tread found traction, and cool air blasted Delaney’s warm cheeks from the heater vent. She buried her chin in the collar of her coat and cast a sideways glance at him. The dash light cast his face and hands in a green glow. Melted snow glistened like tiny emeralds in his black hair and on the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket. A street lamp illuminated the inside of the Jeep for several seconds as he blew past her salon.

“You missed the turn to my apartment.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Aren’t you taking me home?”

“Yep. My home. Did you think we were finished?” He shifted into a lower gear and took a left along the east end of the lake. “We haven’t even begun.”

She turned in her seat and looked at him. “Begun doing what exactly?”

“What we did in that closet wasn’t near enough.”

The thought of his fully nude body pressed to hers wasn’t exactly abhorrent, in fact it turned her insides warm. As Nick had said earlier, the damage was done. Why not spend the night with a man who was very good at making her body come alive in ways she’d never known possible? She’d been on the wagon a long time and wasn’t likely to get a better offer in the foreseeable future. One night. One night she would probably regret, but she’d worry about that tomorrow. “Are you trying to tell me—in your own typically macho way—that you want to make love again?”

He glanced at her. “I’m not trying to tell you anything. I want you. You want me. Someone is going to end up wearing nothing but a satisfied smile on her lips.”

“I don’t know, Nick, I might talk afterward. Do you think you can handle it?”

“I can handle anything you can think up, and a few things you’ve probably never even thought of.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure, wild thing. I have four bedrooms. You can choose which one we use first.”

Nick didn’t scare her. She knew he wouldn’t force her to do anything against her will. Of course, around him, she seemed to pretty much abandon anything resembling a will of her own.

The Jeep slowed and turned into a wide driveway lined on both sides with Ponderosa and lodge pole pine. Out of the dense forest rose a huge house made of split log and lake rock. Its cathedral windows spilled panels of light on the freshly fallen snow. Nick reached for his visor and the middle of three garage doors opened. The four-wheel drive rolled between his Bayliner and Harley.

The inside of the house was just as impressive as the outside. Lots of exposed beams, muted colors, and natural fibers. Delaney stood in front of a wall of windows and looked outside onto the deck. It was still snowing, and the white flakes accumulated on the rail and landed in the Jacuzzi. Nick had taken her coat, and with the ceiling so high and the rooms so open, she was surprised she wasn’t cold.

“What do you think?”

She turned and watched him approach her from the kitchen. He’d taken off his jacket and his shoes. One more black stud had been removed from his pleated white shirt, and he’d rolled the sleeves up his forearms. The black suspenders lay flat against his wide chest. He handed her a Budweiser, then took a drink from his own. His eyes watched her over the bottle, and she got the feeling he cared about her answer more than he wanted her to know.

“It’s beautiful, but huge. Do you live here alone?”

He lowered the beer. “Of course. Who else?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a family of five.” She glanced up at the balcony which she presumed lead to those four bedrooms he’d mentioned. “Are you planning for a large family with lots of children someday?”

“I don’t plan to get married.”

His answer pleased her, but she didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like she cared if he wanted to spend his life with another woman, or kiss her, or make love to her, or overwhelm her with his touch.

“No kids, either... unless you’re pregnant.” He glanced at her stomach as if he could tell by looking. “When will you know for sure?”

“I already know I’m not.”

“I hope you’re right.” He moved to the window and looked out into the night. “I know single women are getting pregnant on purpose these days. Being illegitimate doesn’t have the stigma it used to have, but that doesn’t make it easy. I know what it’s like to grow up like that. I don’t want to do that to some poor kid.”

The Y of his suspenders lay against his back and up over his big shoulders. She remembered the times she’d seen his mother and Josu sitting in the gymnasium watching school plays and holiday programs. Henry and Gwen would have been there, too, somewhere. She’d never thought about what that must have been like for Nick. She set her bottle on a cherrywood coffee table and moved to him.

“You’re not like Henry. You wouldn’t deny your own child.” She wanted to slide her hands around his waist to his flat stomach and press her cheek against his spine, but she held back.

“Henry’s probably spinning in his grave.”

“He’s probably congratulating himself.”

“Why? He didn’t want us to—” Her eyes widened. “Oh, no, Nick. I forgot about the will. I guess you forgot, too.”

He turned to face her. “For a few crucial moments, it did slip my mind.”

She looked into his eyes. He didn’t appear all that upset. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want that property. I promise.”

“That’s up to you.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from her face and softly traced her ear with his fingertips. Then he took her hand and led her upstairs to his bedroom.

As they moved up the steps, she thought about Henry’s will and the repercussions of tonight. Nick didn’t strike her as the type of man who let anything slip his mind, especially not his multimillion dollar inheritance. He had to care for her as much as she feared she was beginning to care for him. He risked a lot to be with her, while she risked nothing but a little self-respect. And actually, when she thought of it, she didn’t feel dirty or used or regret anything. Not now—maybe she would in the morning.

Delaney stepped into a room with thick beige carpet and a set of closed French doors leading to an upper deck. There was a huge hardwood mission bed with pillows and comforters of striped sage green and beige. Keys were thrown on one dresser, and a newspaper lay unopened on the other. There wasn’t a flower printed on anything, no spots of lace or strings of fringe in sight. Not even on the bolsters. It was a man’s room. Elk antlers hung above the rock mantel. The bed was unmade, and a pair of Levi’s was thrown over a chair.

As he set their beer bottles on a nightstand, Delaney raised her hands to the black studs and worked them free until the shirt lay open to his waist. “It’s time I got to see you naked,” she said, then slid her palms up his warm skin. Her fingers combed through the fine hair growing in a dark line up his belly and across his chest. She pushed the white cotton and suspenders from his shoulders and down his arms.

He balled the shirt in one hand and tossed it to the floor. She ran her gaze over his taut skin, powerful chest, and flat brown nipples surrounded by dark hair. She swallowed and thought maybe she should check for drool. Only one word came to mind. “Wow,” she said and pressed her hand against his flat stomach. She ran her palm up his ribs and looked into his gray eyes. He watched her from beneath lowered lids as she stripped him to his BVDs. He was beautiful. His legs were long and thick with muscles. Her fingers traced the tattoo circling his biceps. She touched his chest and shoulders, and slid her hands over his back and rounded behind. When her examination moved south, he grabbed her wrist and took over. He slowly undressed her, then laid her on soft flannel sheets. His warm skin pressed the length of hers, and he took his time making love to her.

His touch was different from before. His hands lingered over her body, and he seduced her with stirring languid kisses. He teased her breasts with his hot mouth and slick tongue, and when he entered her, his thrusts were slow and controlled. He held her face between his palms and his gaze locked with hers, holding himself back as he drove her wild.

She felt herself propelled toward orgasm, and her eyes drifted shut.

“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice husky. “Look at me. I want you to see my face when I make you come.”

Her lids opened and she looked into his intense gaze. Something bothered her about his request, but she didn’t have time to think about it before he thrust harder, deeper, and she wrapped one leg around his behind and forgot about everything but the hot tingles building with steady pressure in her body.

It wasn’t until just before dawn the next morning as he kissed her good-bye at her door, that she thought about it again. As she watched him drive away, she remembered the look in his eyes as he’d held her face between his palms. It was if he were watching her from a distance, yet at the same time wanting her to know it was Nick Allegrezza who held her and kissed her and drove her wild.

He made love to her in his bed and later in the Jacuzzi, but neither time had been like that hurried, hungry mating in the linen closet when he’d touched her with an urgency and need he hadn’t been able to control. She’d never felt so wanted as she had smashed against his chest in the Lake Shore Hotel. “I have to have you—now,” he’d said, as desperate for her as she’d been for him. His touch had been needy and greedy, and she craved it more than the slow lingering caresses.

Delaney shut her apartment door behind her and unbuttoned her coat. They hadn’t talked of seeing each other again. He hadn’t said he’d call her, and even though she knew it was probably for the best, disappointment tugged at her heart. Nick was the kind of guy a girl couldn’t depend on for anything but great sex, and it was best not to even think about things like next time. Best but impossible.

The sun rose over dense jagged pine, topped with snow. Silvery rays spread across the partially frozen lake to the bottom of Nick’s retaining wall. He stood behind the French doors in his bedroom and watched brilliant light stretch across his deck, chasing away dusky shadows. The snow sparkled like it was embedded with tiny diamonds, so bright he was forced to turn away. His gaze fell on his bed, the sheets and comforter shoved to the very end.

Now he knew. Now he knew what it was like to hold her and touch her as he’d always wanted. Now he knew what it was like to live out his oldest fantasy, to have Delaney in his bed, looking into his eyes with him buried deep inside her. Her wanting him. Him pleasing her.

Nick had been with his share of women. Maybe more than some men, but less than he’d been given credit for. He’d been with women who liked their sex slow or fast, raunchy or strictly missionary. Women who thought he should do most of the work, and those who’d gone overboard to please him. Some of the women he’d shared friendships with, others he’d never seen again. Most had known what to do with their mouths and hands, a few were just drunken episodes he’d mostly forgotten, but none of them had made him lose control. Not until Delaney.

Once he’d pulled her into that closet, there’d been no turning back. Once she’d kissed him like she wanted to eat him alive, hooking her leg over his hip and grinding against his hard-on, nothing had mattered but losing himself in her hot slick body—not Henry’s will, and certainly not the chance of discovery by a hotel employee. Nothing had mattered but possessing her. Then he did and the feeling nearly sent him to his knees. It shook him to the core, changing everything he thought he knew about sex. Sex was sometimes slow and easy, other times fast and sweaty, but never like with Delaney. Never had it slammed into him like a hot fist.

Now he knew, and he wished he didn’t. It ate a hole in his gut and made him hate her as much as he wanted to hold her close and never let her leave him. But she would leave. She would leave Truly, blowing out of town in her little yellow car.

Now he knew, and it was hell.