he next morning Daisy went to church as usual. She knew there had been talk about her during the week, thanks to Jack and the condom episode, and in a small town the best thing to do under those circumstances was to follow her normal routine.

Because she knew people would be watching her, she took extra pains with her hair and makeup; it was funny how fast it had become routine. The Weather Channel said that the day would be hot and humid, with temperatures climbing toward the century mark, so she dressed as coolly as possible, even leaving off her panty hose and dusting the insides of her pumps with baby powder so her feet wouldn't stick to them.

It was already hot, probably almost ninety, at nine-forty-five when she left the house. She turned the air-conditioning in her car on "high," but the church was only two miles away, so the blast of air was just getting cold when she arrived. The church was

nice and cool, though, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she entered the sanctuary and took her customary seat beside her mother and Aunt Jo, who both turned to her with beaming smiles. "You look great," Aunt Jo said, leaning over to pat Daisy's hand. "How did last night go?"

Daisy sighed. "I only danced three times," she whispered. "There was another fight. I didn't have anything to do with it," she hastily added when both women's eyes rounded. "But I think I may have to find some other club."

"I should hope so," said her mother. "All those fights!"

It wasn't the fights that disturbed Daisy, but the fact that the Buffalo Club seemed to be Jack's hangout. She was an intelligent woman; she knew better than to borrow trouble, and after last night it was obvious that being anywhere in his vicinity was a big problem. If he went to the Buffalo Club, she would go elsewhere. Period.

Someone slid into the pew beside her, and she automatically turned her head to smile a greeting. The smile froze on her face. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.

Jack looked around at the altar and choir loft, the stained-glass windows, and asked, “Attending church?" then leaned forward to say hello to Evelyn and Aunt Jo. Answering smiles came his way, and Evelyn asked him to come to dinner after services. He pleaded a prior engagement, which saved his toes, because Daisy had been prepared to grind her heel down on his foot if he'd accepted.

Daisy imagined she could feel the gaze of everyone in church centered on her back. "What are you doing here?" she whispered again, more fiercely this time.

He dipped his head closer to hers so he couldn't be overheard. "You didn't want everyone to think you bought condoms for a one-night stand, did you?"

Her eyes widened. He was right. By his coming to church and sitting beside her, everyone would assume there was a full-fledged

romance between them, because a man just didn't go to a woman's church and sit beside her unless they were seriously involved. By giving up one morning of his time, he had changed her status from suspect to understandable. In this day and age, a sexual relationship between two romantically involved adults was the expected thing, even if organized religion did frown on it.

Two hours later, Daisy was a nervous wreck. Knowing that the chief of police wanted to get naked with her wasn't conducive to having a peaceful morning at church. She had tried her best to pay attention to the sermon, just in case it was aimed at her, but her attention had kept wandering. Specifically, it had wandered to the man sitting on her right.

Their intimacy of the night before had been startling. Even though they had done nothing more than kiss and a little light petting, it felt as if they had done so much more. She had felt almost incandescent in his arms, and there hadn't been anything halfhearted about his erection. She couldn't lie to herself; they had teetered on the brink of making love, and she had pulled back just in the nick of time.

She couldn't help wondering what would have happened if she'd forgotten her morals, forgotten that he wasn't her type, forgotten everything except satisfying herself. No, she didn't wonder what would have happened, she knew—she just wondered what it would have been like.

She couldn't get his taste out of her mind. Would the rest of

his lovemaking have lived up to his kisses? He kissed like a

dream, and tasted like a honeypot. Even if he were the world's

worst lover, which she highly doubted, that would almost be

worth putting up with just to get those kisses. On the other hand,

going on the theory that a good kisser was also a good lover—

she'd read it somewhere—then Jack Russo was something else be-

tween the sheets.

Those were not good thoughts to have during a church service. She fidgeted restlessly, and every time she moved, her leg seemed to brush against his. The air-conditioned church was very cool, but she was burning up again and she felt an almost overwhelming urge to kick off her shoes and tear off her dress. Either she was in premature menopause and having hot flashes, or she was hot in a far more basic sense.

She kept sneaking glances at him; she just couldn't help it. He dressed neatly, conservatively. His shoes were always polished, and that was important. After reading an article that said the state of a man's shoes reflected his general attitude about himself and others, she'd always looked at shoes and was careful to keep her own footwear clean and polished.

His graying hair was way too short, but it looked good on him. There was just a hint of curl on top, so she suspected he kept it short to keep that curl tamed. He was big, but there was nothing clumsy about him; he moved with a sort of controlled, animalistic grace. And there was no extra weight on him; she'd discovered that last night. He was all rock-solid muscle.

She was spending way too much time thinking about a man who wasn't her type.

He moved his hand, and the backs of his fingers subtly rubbed against her thigh. Daisy swallowed and stared hard at Reverend Bridges, trying to make sense of what he was saying, but the reverend might as well have been speaking a foreign language.

Jack was seducing her, right there in church, and she knew it. He wasn't doing anything much—though he was still rubbing her thigh—but then he didn't have to. He was there, and that was enough. She was doing a very good job of seducing herself, remembering last night and working herself into a lather.

She had to be blowing this all out of proportion, because logic told her no kiss could possibly be as potent as she'd thought last night. It was just that Jack was the first man to kiss her in... she couldn't remember exactly how long. Years. Which was entirely her fault, because she'd been sitting at home instead of getting out and doing something about her unkissed situation. But it had still been years since she'd been kissed, and the fact was, she had gone overboard in her reaction. It probably hadn't been nearly as exciting to him.

Then she remembered the way his heartbeat had thundered under her hand, and the only way he could have faked that erection was if he'd had a flashlight stuffed in his pants. A big flashlight.

Oh, dear. These were not good thoughts to be having during a sermon.

At last, at last, the sermon was over and the last hymn had been sung. People milled around, shaking hands, smiling and talking. Jack stood at the end of the pew, blocking her exit, while everyone in the church, it seemed, came over to greet him. Aunt Jo and Evelyn turned around and went out the other end of the pew and Daisy turned to do the same, but without looking Jack reached back and caught her arm. "Hold on a minute," he said, then returned to shaking hands. The men wanted to talk about the police force and feel macho by association; the women merely flirted, even the great-grandmothers. Jack just had that kind of effect on women. Daisy had used to think she was immune, but learned that feeling superior set you up for a big fall.

When the crowd had finally cleared out some and they could make their way out of the pew, Jack stepped aside and let Daisy exit in front of him, his hand going to her waist. Her heart jumped at his touch. He was really getting into the "we're a couple" act for everyone else's benefit, but his main objective was to get naked with her; forget the couple angle. He didn't want to get married and have children—come to think of it, he'd already been married, so he might already have children, too.

There was only one way to find out. She leaned forward and whispered, "Do you have any children?"

He gave her an appalled look. "Hell, no!" Then he remembered where he was and muttered, "Let's get out of here."

That was easier said than done. Reverend Bridges was still at the door, shaking hands and chatting with everyone as they left, and it seemed he had a lot to talk to Jack about. None of it seemed very important to Daisy as she patiently waited her turn, but the reverend was a man just like all the others, and he wanted to talk to the police chief. She wondered if it got on Jack's nerves. No one ever buttonholed her because of her job, and she was just as glad. Did all cops have to put up with this?

But at last her hand was shaken and small talk was made; Reverend Bridges gave her a speaking look, making her wonder if the sermon had been targeted toward her, which, after the talk of this past week, was certainly possible. She'd have to remember to ask her mother.

The heat was almost unbearable, rising off the street in waves. Men, Jack included, were shedding their coats and loosening their ties as soon as they left the church; the women, however, were stuck with bras and pantyhose, and Daisy was glad her legs were bare. The slight breeze was hot, but at least she could feel it.

He stripped his tie from around his neck and stuffed it in his coat pocket. “I’ll follow you."

"Where are we going?" she asked in bewilderment.

"To your house."

Her heart jumped again. "I always eat Sunday dinner with Mother and Aunt Jo."

"Call them and cancel. You've just moved in; you have things to do."

And one of those things was him, if she was correctly reading

the intent look in his eyes. She cleared her throat. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"I think it's the best damn idea I've had in years."

Swiftly she looked around. The church parking lot was mostly deserted now, with no one wanting to linger in the heat. Still she leaned closer so there was no chance of being overheard. "You know what would happen!"

"I'm counting on it."

"I don't want an affair!" she hissed. "I want a relationship, and you're getting in the way!"

"So until a relationship comes along, have an affair with me." He moved closer, looming over her. As hot as the day was, he was hotter; his heat wrapped around her. His gray-green eyes burned. "I'm healthy. I'm normal, nothing too kinky. I'll try not to get you pregnant."

"Try?" she echoed, outraged.

He shrugged. "Things happen. Rubbers break."

That should have been an appalling thought. It wasn't. The fact that it wasn't told her how far gone she was, when not even the thought of an accidental pregnancy could cool her down. And what was—

"What's too kinky?" she whispered.

A grin flashed across his hard face. "I'll show you."

The old Daisy would have stormed off in a huff. Well, maybe not, because the old Daisy would have been as powerfully tempted as the new Daisy was. But the old Daisy wouldn't have had the nerve to go with a man for the express purpose of having sex, and the new Daisy couldn't seem to think of anything else. She wanted this man, and she was afraid that if anyone else came along, she wouldn't pay any attention to him because she was too busy obsessing about Jack.

"C'mon, try me on for size," he murmured. "I dare you."

It wasn't the dare that did it; it was the thought of trying him on.

"If you get me pregnant," she said, "you have to marry me."

"Deal," he said, and they got in their respective cars and drove to Lassiter Avenue, with him keeping a respectful distance between their bumpers.

She should have been shaking like a leaf, she thought a few minutes later as she put her key in the lock, but her hands were steady. She was only shaking on the inside, where it didn't count.

Jack stood in the middle of her cozy little living room, looking around, while she went to the phone and called her mother. As usual, she wasn't very good at lying, and when her mother asked her why she wasn't coming to dinner, all Daisy could do was look at him and blurt, "Jack's here."

He grinned.

"Oh!" said her mother, and giggled. Her mother giggled. "I understand completely. You two have fun."

Daisy desperately hoped her mother didn't understand completely, but the way things had been going lately, maybe she did. She put the phone down and said, "She told us to have fun."

"I intend to." He still stood in the middle of the room, making it look even smaller. "Are you hungry? For food," he added, feeling the need to be specific.

She shook her head.

"Good," he said, and reached for her.

She had almost convinced herself she'd imagined how good he tasted, until he kissed her again. She made a little humming sound and twined her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to press against him and meet his demanding mouth with demands of her own.

The peculiar melting sensation spread through her again, weakening her knees so that she had to lean against him, let him

support all of her weight, and that made the melting spread even faster. Oh, God, he felt good. Her entire body throbbed from the contact. The incredible hardness of his muscles, the heat that practically glowed from him, wrapped her in a cocoon of physical delight that also robbed her of strength and left her totally pliable to his touch.

His arms tightened, and he pulled her even closer, fitting her soft curves to all the hard angles of his body, tilting her so that her pelvis cradled the hard bulge of his erection. She made another little sound, and he deepened the kiss until her breath was no longer her own, until it didn't matter if she breathed or not.

This was desire. This. The heat and need, the deep throb of emptiness, the tension and lassitude and sharp tingles. This.

She moaned, her head falling weakly back. He took the opportunity offered, his hot mouth trailing down her throat to close on the exquisitely sensitive juncture between neck and shoulder, scraping the tendon with his teeth, sucking her skin. Her entire body jolted at the wild, uncontained pleasure; her knees gave out completely, but it didn't matter, because he had her safe in his grasp.

His hands moved over her with slow, maddening purpose, stroking her breasts, unzipping her dress and pulling it down and off her arms, then unsnapping her bra and disposing of it. The dress bunched around her waist, unable to drop because there wasn't even a breath of space between their hips. At last his hands were on naked flesh, and he rubbed her nipples into hard, aching points, then tilted her back over his arm and bent his head to suck them. He wasn't gentle, but he didn't have to be. She clasped her hands around his head and held him there, gasping out cries of pleasure as the pressure of his mouth catapulted her to an even higher level of sensation.

She was desperate to feel his skin, and she jerked at his shirt, trying to get it off over his head without unbuttoning it. He

raised his head long enough to help her, using only one hand because he didn't release her. They both fought the garment, and a couple of buttons fell to the rug; then it was off and both arms were around her again, her breasts crushed against the crisp hair that rasped her nipples almost as deliciously as his thumbs. She ached all over, the most heated, wonderful ache she'd ever felt in her life. She felt as if her entire body pulsed with need and excitement and desire, even between her legs.

"I thought they were lying," she gasped, barely aware that she was even speaking.

"Who?" he asked against her throat.

"Women. About this."

"This?" He didn't sound very interested. He found that sensitive place on her neck again, and held it with his teeth.

"The way it feels. This."

"How does it feel?" he whispered.

"I... throb." She could barely get the words out. "Between my legs."

A rough sound burst out of his throat and a shudder ran through him, his erection pulsing against her. "I'll make it stop," he said, his tone so low and rough the words were barely intelligible.

He slid his hands up her legs, tugging the close-fitting dress up as he went until the fabric was bunched over his forearms and his hands were inside her panties, his hot palms cupping her bottom for a moment, just a moment; then he moved them down, down, his fingers delving into her closed cleft and finding her opening. Daisy gasped, the sound strangling in her throat as her whole body seemed to seize, waiting, frozen in anticipation. Then he pushed two big fingers up into her and all her nerve endings rioted, arching her against him in a mindless search for more. Oh, God. She was stretched, penetrated—and it wasn't enough.

Her hips began to move, surging like the tide. "More," she managed to say, begging, whimpering the word. "More."

She couldn't seem to do anything except cling to him as he stripped her panties down and off, retrieved a condom from his pocket, then kicked off his shoes and fought his way out of the rest of his clothing. Naked, holding her to him, he stumbled back to sit on the couch and pull her over him, arranging her legs so that she straddled his lap. He put on the condom with quick, jerky movements, then grasped her hips and guided her into position.

Abruptly, time slowed. She gripped his shoulders at the feel of his penis probing between her legs, not inside her but nudging, as if enticing her to open and admit him.

Her breath came in quick little gasps; his bellowed out of his lungs. His jaw was set, his neck corded with strain, and yet he remained still and let her set the pace. The wonder of it suffused her. She moved back and forth in a subtle motion, caressing herself with the hard length, lifting and moving and—ah. He slipped into her, just a little, but enough to make him clench his teeth on another rough sound. His fingers bit into her buttocks, then relaxed.

Entranced, the expression in her eyes distant as she concentrated on the sensation of heat and stretching and fullness, Daisy lifted herself once more, settled, and took the broad head fully inside her. Jack groaned, his face twisted as if he were in pain. He shifted so his hips were on the edge of the cushion, stretching out his legs so she could take him at a deeper angle. She rose and fell, her eyes closing, savoring the slow, slow impalement as she squirmed and adjusted and finally, finally, he was completely inside her.

Magic.

That's what it felt like, her body not her own anymore but moving with a will of its own, twisting, seeking. She reveled in his size and nakedness, in the way she felt him deep inside where she

had never been touched before. She loved the harsh sounds he made, loved the growing desperation of his grip, loved the increasing tension and heat of her own body as sensation wound tighter and tighter, and she leaned forward to kiss him, as everything suddenly reached critical mass and her senses exploded. The world dimmed around her. She heard herself shrieking and sobbing, felt her hips frantically surging against him; then abruptly she was on her back and he was pounding into her and she climaxed again just moments before he stiffened and heaved in his own orgasm.

In the aftermath she lay limply under his heavy body, comfortable on the overstuffed cabbage rose cushions. The cool air fanned against her sides, while perspiration glued their fronts together. She nuzzled her face against his throat, inhaling his heady, musky scent. He pressed a loss to her temple.

"You had a condom in your pocket in church," she managed to say weakly, suddenly bemused by the thought.

"Yeah. I kept waiting for lightning to strike." His voice sounded hoarse, as if he could barely speak.

She smoothed her hand down his muscled back, over the coolness of his buttocks. "Did you just have one?" she whispered.

He lifted his head and smiled down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded, his hair dark with sweat. "You still have the PartyPak, don't you?"