第 27 页

She set the cup down. "All right, I'll spell it out for you. It makes sense that we share a bed this winter-and I mean th in the most intimate way."

Stone Man's coffee cup hit the table with a clang. He didn't know what he thought she'd concocted in that steel-trap mind of hers, but he damn sure hadn't counted on this. " Y-You mean we should..." His words trailed off. What the hell was a nice word for screw?

Heat climbed up her cheeks, but she didn't look away. "Yes. I think we should engage in sexual congress."

Sexual congress? He frowned. Did that take more than two people? Stone Man eyed her uneasily.

His every instinct was on full alert. Little miss levelheaded had just tossed a burning match onto a puddle of pure hootch. His voice, when he found it, was unsteady. "You've decided that it's... sensible for us to become lovers. Why?"

She beamed, in her element now. Turning her attention to the list, she began reading. "One, close proximity. Two, warmth. Three, you're my last chance. Four-"

"Wait a sec. Go back to three. What the hell does that mean, 'I'm you're last chance'?"

Darn it! She'd meant to skip right over that one.

"Devon?"

Well, there was nothing to do now but answer. "It's nothing, really." She hoped her voice sounded matter-of-fact. "I'm almost thirty years old. It's not likely I'll find a man willing to marry me."

"What does that have to do with me?"

She stared at her hands. When she finally spoke her voice was wobbly and weak. "I want... to be loved." She lifted her overbright eyes to his face. "And I want that with you. Only you. Number four, if you're interested, is that I care for you."

Stone Man felt as if he were falling over a precipice. He hoped to God there was a net at the bottom. He reached out, taking her hands in his. "Ah, Dev," he said in a harsh, barely recognizable voice,"do you know what you're asking for?"

"Yes," she answered matter-of-factly."I read that chapter in Dr. Cowan's book. It was a bit sketchy on details, but- what are you smiling about?"

"A whole chapter. Do you think that's enough?"

"I should think so. I haven't noticed species dying out for lack of reading matter on the subject. I suspect it comes naturally."

His mouth tilted crookedly. "If done correctly."

She thought about that for a moment. "Is there a wrong way?"

Stone Man's grin faded at the reminder of her naivete. "What are the disadvantages to our... sexual congressing?"

She glanced down at her notes. "One, pregnancy- however, Dr. Cowan's section on contraception was quite informative. Two, loss of virginity-just in case I am lucky enough to find a husband."

A white-hot bolt of jealousy stabbed Stone Man. He couldn't help scowling. "Certainly. And number three?"

Her voice dropped. "You could break my heart."

Stone Man swallowed hard. Three was a humdinger, because it worked both ways. Wanting her without having her was one thing, but once they'd slept together he might actually need her, and what then? His life wouldn't be worth shit.

Christ, he thought savagely, who was he kidding? It was too late for that thought. Way too late.

She'd already wormed her way into his heart, and there was no turning back. Not now.

Leaning forward, he took her face in his hands, holding her as if she were made of spun glass.

"Forget the list, forget the pros and cons, and just tell me what you want."

She didn't even blink. "I want you to make love to me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the images her words conjured. His blood burned.

"What if I 'm not the man you think I am? What then?"

"What do you mean?"

The seconds ticked by as Stone Man tried to find the courage to answer her. He stared at the scarred tabletop, unable to force the words out. For years the memories had been boxed away, shoved into a dark corner of his mind and forgotten, and now when he needed them they were reluctant to come into the light.

Her fingers curled around his forearm and gave a reassuring squeeze.

He winced. Once he told her the truth she'd yank her hand away, and she'd never touch him again. The thought made him feel hollow and sick inside. But he couldn't lie to her, and his silence was a lie.

Clenching his fists, he said quickly, "I spent five years in prison."

Her hand didn't even flinch. "What for?"

"Murder." He tensed, waiting for her hand to withdraw.

Instead her hold tightened.

The silence stretched between them. Stone Man felt every muscle in his body tighten. Nothing had ever shut her up before. Disgust must have rendered her speechless.

"Aren't you going to ask me?" he asked wearily.

"Ask you what?"

Christ, she must be drunk. He turned his head to look at her. What he saw stole his breath.

Understanding and unconditional acceptance radiated from the dark-green depths of her eyes.

The relief he felt was staggering. He hadn't known until that very second how much he cared what she thought of him. Her silence told him all he needed to know: She didn't believe he was a murderer.

Awe seeped into his voice and eyes. "You aren't going to ask me whether I did it?"

"I know you didn't do it."

That simple sentence, the one he'd waited all his life to hear, shattered the final remnants of his resistance.

Chapter Eighteen

She looked up at him with love in her eyes, and Stone Man was lost. Her loving gaze warmed his cold bones, and for the first time in his life he knew what it meant to be wanted.

That she didn't ask about his past struck a chord deep in his soul. In her silence was absolute trust. "Ah, Dev..." The words were ragged, torn.

His arms came around her body, and for the first time in her life Devon knew what it felt like to be held, really held. She lay her cheek against the soft flannel of his shirt and breathed deeply of the familiar masculine scent of him.

Goodness it felt wonderful. Of course, it would be more wonderful to be held and kissed at the same time.

She figured he'd get to that, and so she waited.

Unfortunately, patience wasn't something she was good at.

Besides, he was taking too darn long.

Wiggling out of his embrace, she looked up at him with what she hoped was a sultry, inviting expression on her face.

He frowned. "Do you feel okay?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. She should have known better than to be subtle with Stone Man. Closing her eyes, she said, "Kiss me."

Then she puckered up and waited.

Her answer was a low, throaty chuckle. She was just about to open her eyes when she felt the hard, callused tip of his finger brush her jawline. The butterfly-soft touch brought a delightful tingle to her skin.

She decided to keep her eyes shut a moment longer. ' He bent forward. She could feel his breath, hot and rapid, flutter against her lips. "Open your eyes, Dev."

She did, blinking slowly. His face was a hair's breadth from hers. She felt the soft strains of his breath against her cheeks.

"Relax your lips," he ordered.

Her pucker faded. Her lips parted, and she wet them expectantly.

"Ah, that's better;" His lips brushed hers and then retreated.

Immediately she tilted her head up. "More please."

He smiled. "You can't control everything, Dev-especially not this. So just relax and enjoy."

He had to be jesting. How could one enjoy anything mindlessly? "But-"

His mouth covered hers in a long, lingering mating of lips that stole her breath. A delicious shiver sped up her spine. Dizziness danced at the edge of her mind.

This kiss was nothing like the others. It was hot and yearning and wrenching, and it made every nerve in Devon's body tingle. A strange sense of restlessness seized her.

He pulled away slowly, and as he did Devon frowned. Darn it, why did he always have to stop just when it was feeling so nice? She lifted up to her toes and tried to kiss him. His fingers closed around her shoulders, gently but firmly keeping her at bay.

"Relax, Dev." The words were drawled against her moist, aching-for-more lips.

Relax? When her blood was boiling and her skin was afire? Nothing short of a double dose of laudanum could calm her now. "I don't know if I can... I don't know how."

"Let me show you." He made an infinitesimal move and claimed her mouth with his. His tongue slipped past her parted lips and probed her mouth. The dull throbbing in her loins turned into a slow, burning need.

A hunger. It spread through her body like a flash fire. Suddenly she felt as if she'd drunk three pints of champagne.

Her response frightened her; it was so overpowering, so A HANDFITL OF HEAVEN desperate. The throbbing between her legs was making it difficult to breathe. She was losing control. Oh, God...

She stiffened. Her hands, still clasped around his body, curled into tight fists.

"Touch me," he whispered throatily.

"I'm afraid."

He pulled her closer, letting her absorb the safety of his embrace. "Don't be."

She wanted to touch him. God, did she. Timidly she let her fingers unfurl slowly, one by one, until they were splayed across his broad back. His body heat seeped through the damp flannel of his shirt, warming her fingers.

Moving cautiously, she explored his body with her hands, feeling the bumps and ridges and valleys of his broad back. The more comfortable she became with the feel of him the more she wanted, and soon her hands were roving freely down his back, across his broad shoulder, around his waist. Her boldness grew, and suddenly she found herself wishing she were rubbing naked skin instead of worn flannel.

His hands fell away from her shoulders and traveled slowly-oh so slowly-to her back. His touch was feather light, almost a tickle. Her body trembled in response.

Without warning his hot fingers cupped the firm wool-clad roundness of her bottom and dragged her closer.

She couldn't have protested if she'd wanted to; her body was like wax in his hands. They came together, hard and completely. Their bodies merged, melted together.

Need propelled her and made her suddenly bold. She stroked his hair, reveling in the feel of the coarse strands twined through her fingers. She rubbed up against him. The metal buttons on his shirt abraded her breasts.

She gasped at the feel of the buttons against her nipples. The taut crests hardened instantly, straining against the wool of her bodice. Drawn by some dark, instinctive need, she rubbed up against the buttons again.

Stone Man groaned, clutching her tighter. "Kiss me," he said in a raspy voice.

Good God, she thought she was. It took her a moment to realize what he was asking of her, but when she did she complied gladly. Her tongue sneaked forward, brushing the warm, wet tip of his. The contact jolted her to her very toes. She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew he'd been as shaken by the mating of their tongues as she. The realization brought with it a heady sense of daring, and she kissed him again, harder, with an urgency and a need that left her breathless.

The harsh fabric of her bodice gaped suddenly. A draft of cold night air slid along her skin, setting off a flurry of goosebumps. She gasped. Before she could utter a word of protest, the flimsy flannel of her winter chemise fell open as well.

Shock ripped through the hazy veil of numbness. She came to her senses with a jolt. Kissing; that's all they were supposed to do right now. Just kiss. She had planned tonight perfectly, and a gaping bodice was most assuredly not in the picture for this evening. At least not yet. They had hours of exchanging yet to do.

She pushed him away. "You're not doing it right."

Unprepared for her attack, he stumbled backward. "Huh?" he said when he'd regained his balance.

She started buttoning her chemise. "I said, you're not doing it correctly."

She waited for a response, and when none came she lifted her gaze from her buttons to his face.

He was standing not more than a foot from her, studying her intently. And smirking.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she demanded.

"Like what?" he drawled.

"Like you're trying not to laugh."

"I am trying not to laugh."

She tilted her nose in the air. "I don't find it the least bit amusing. You could have told me you had no experience in... these matters. I was rather hoping you could be the leader." She sighed.

"Now I suppose we'll have to learn together. The blind leading the blind." She started chewing on her thumbnail, thinking. This did put a kink in her plan.

But it couldn't be helped. "Don't worry," she said finally, "it's not your fault you're a virgin, too."

"A virgin? Me?"

She wasn't listening. She was thinking. "It's just too bad Dr. Cowan was so sketchy on details..."

"Devon?"

She looked up at him. "Yes?"

"How do you know I'm a virgin?"

She didn't like the smile that lurked at his mouth. Didn't like it at all. "Well, I suspect you'd know how to do it if you'd done it before."

The smile turned into a grin. "And I don't? Know how to doit, that is."

"Apparently not. Why, here you are going great guns, and we haven't sauntered or exchanged ideas or anything. It's all wrong."

"You lost me, Dev."

"In his treatise on Sexual Ethics, Dr. Cowan explains quite plainly how people make love." She peered up at him."The right way."

"Of course. There's a right way and a wrong way to do everything."

This time there was no mistaking the amusement in his voice. And his eyes! They were practically dancing with mirth.

She frowned at him. Goodness, one would think he'd be serious-it was, after all, rather a serious subject. But then he'd probably never been much of a student. "Do you care to learn how to do it or not?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Good. Then stop grinning and pay attention." She hurried over to the bookcase and grabbed her precious book, opening it to a dog-eared page. Looking down at page 172- the last page of the chapter entitled "The Consummation"- she began to read aloud. " 'An enjoyable walk and saunter, of an hour or more, into the pleasant morning sunshine.' " She flashed him a meaningful glance.