“No,” Harper murmured, “not me. Flann is the charmer. I don’t have her way with women.”

Presley pressed her palm to the center of Harper’s chest and kissed her, a firm but fleeting kiss. “There you are quite wrong, Dr. Rivers.”

“I have a terrible urge to put my hands on you,” Harper confessed.

Presley drew a shaky breath. Harper was trembling. I have a terrible urge to put my hands on you.

Presley couldn’t think why she should stop her. Harper just made her want so damn much. She summoned the last of her willpower. “And I would like it very much if you would go get into your truck and show me how to get to your house.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want a lot of things, but right now I think the safest place for us is in our separate vehicles.”

“All right. My place isn’t far.”

Presley sighed in relief when Harper turned away, doing what she had not been able to do—break the connection between them. Somehow Harper managed to do what no one and nothing else in her life had ever accomplished—broken her control. She didn’t want to want her. She didn’t want to touch her, and she couldn’t seem to stop either one. Hopefully by the time she’d driven a few miles, she’d have regained control of her reason and put her runaway hormones back where they belonged—behind locked doors until she was in charge again. Perhaps by the time she reached Harper’s, the kiss would no longer tingle on her lips. She could only hope, because she didn’t seem to have the ability to do anything else.

*

Harper watched Presley’s headlights in her rearview mirror as she traveled the empty roads home. The kiss left her agitated and high at the same time. She ought to back off, the timing was all wrong. Hell, Flann was probably right. Everything was all wrong, but Presley had kissed her back. And she wanted more.

The short drive wasn’t long enough to dispel the simmering in her gut, but the cool air had cleared her head a little by the time she reached the house. She stopped in front of the barn, and Presley pulled in behind her and got out.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Harper said when she climbed out of the truck. “You can wait for me on the back porch or come with me if you want. I need to do a few things in the barn.”

Presley walked toward her. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Company would be nice.” On impulse, Harper held out her hand. When Presley’s hand slipped into hers, a sense of rightness filled her. “I just need to feed the animals since I never got back here last night.”

The cats, one yellow male and a tortoiseshell female, were curled up together on a window shelf in the back of the barn, the same place they’d slept since they were kittens. They raised their heads when she opened two cans of food and jumped down as soon as she put the bowls on the floor.

“I have kittens,” Presley said.

“Oh yeah? How many?”

“Four. I haven’t seen the mother.”

“She might have left them.”

“No. Really?”

“It’s possible.” Harper petted the tortie. “Their mother hung around until they were about five weeks old, and then one day she just didn’t come back. They stayed, though.”

“I’d better check on them later. They might need food.”

Harper laughed. “It depends on what you want.”

“I’m sorry?”

“All you have to do to keep barn cats is feed them.”

“Well, of course I’ll feed them.”

“Then they’ll be yours forever.”

Clouds passed through Presley’s expressive eyes. “But what will happen when I’m not there anymore?”

“Then I imagine they’ll miss you,” Harper said softly.

Presley took Harper’s hand again. “Who else?”

“What do you mean?” Harper murmured.

“Who else do you need to feed?”

Harper smiled. “The goats.”

“Goats. What do you do with goats?”

“These particular goats are mostly pets, but they have excellent coats, and right before winter, we’ll strip them and donate the fiber to a local fiber mill. They’ll spin it into yarn.”

“Do you—knit?” Presley tried to hide her disbelief but failed.

“Not hardly. That’s why I donate it.” As they talked, Harper led Presley outside and around the back of the barn to another pasture. She opened the fence. “Be careful of the top line there, it’s electrified.”

Inside, she called to the goats, who bounded out of their shed and came toward her at a trot, several of them bleating in recognition. She checked their water, added more hay to the rack, and scratched their ears.

“Now it’s our turn for food.” Harper locked the pasture gate, and Presley took her hand again. They reached the house just as the sun came up.

“I can’t believe it’s morning.” Presley paused on the top step and took a deep breath. “God, the air smells good.”

“Tired?” Harper held open the screen door on the back porch. She rarely locked the house and hadn’t the day before when she’d left. The kitchen still smelled faintly of cornbread and bacon from the meal she’d cooked for Flann.

“I’m used to late hours and erratic schedules,” Presley said. “I’m more hungry than tired, and maybe a little grimy too.”

“Me too.” Harper grinned. “What would you like? Coffee or how about a shower?”

Presley stilled. The idea of a shower, one she didn’t take alone, was suddenly all she could think about. All she could see was Harper, steam rising around her, her hair plastered to her neck as water coursed over her shoulders, streaming between her breasts and down the length of her abdomen. The thought of sliding her palms where the water had just been, over the curves of Harper’s breasts and the hard, smooth plane of her abdomen, made her hands ache. Going to her knees and pressing her mouth to the heat between Harper’s thighs drove the hunger to a fever pitch.

“Coffee.”

Harper’s eyes searched hers. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say.”

“Were you reading my mind?” Presley laughed ruefully. “I certainly hope not.”

“I caught a glimpse of what you were thinking.” Harper rested both hands on Presley’s hips. “I hope I saw right.”

“What do you think you saw?”

“Us, naked, under the water, touching.”

Presley’s legs trembled and want clutched at her throat. “It’s crazy. We’d be crazy to even once—”

Harper pulled her closer. “How much crazier is it going to get if we don’t?”

Presley shivered. Heat poured from Harper’s body. “I don’t know. I’m not thinking very clearly.”

“I’m not thinking at all.” Harper kissed Presley’s throat. “You know what? That feels really good—just feeling you.” She kissed her again, palms sliding down the length of Presley’s back. “Feels right. You taste amazing.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about—”

“I don’t think we should talk about anything at all. Not right now.” Harper raised her head and her eyes were endless. “Tell me no now, if you mean it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Presley whispered.

“Then come with me.”

The next instant they were upstairs—at least Presley had no memory of anything other than suddenly being in a large stone-tiled bathroom with a glass-walled double shower, and warm water already streaming from the showerhead. Maybe she was still imagining… She blinked, but everything remained exactly the same. Only now Harper was opening her shirt. Somewhere a voice warned her she should stop, think, but the sound faded with every passing second. When the backs of Harper’s fingers brushed over the top of her breast, she heard only the steady beat of water on glass and her own heart pounding in her throat. She needed to feel her. Grasping Harper’s shirt, she tugged open the buttons and pushed the sleeves down Harper’s arms, realizing only after she did it she’d trapped Harper’s arms by her sides.

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t stop there,” Harper gasped.

“No.” Presley dropped to her knees, opened Harper’s pants, and pulled down the zipper. She kissed the hollow at the base of Harper’s belly. “I can’t.”

“Presley,” Harper said, her voice so deep and husky Presley wouldn’t have recognized it under any other circumstances. “You should be very careful there. I’m very much on the edge.”

“So am I.” Presley looked up and couldn’t hide her smile. Dominating someone as strong as Harper was an aphrodisiac so exciting a single touch would make her explode. She pulled Harper’s shirt the rest of the way off. “And I want you.”

Harper’s lids flickered closed. Her fingers wove into Presley’s hair. “Then I’m all yours.”

All yours. A figure of speech, one she liked. Presley pulled Harper’s pants and underclothes down over her hips and Harper stepped out of her shoes and the rest. Presley kissed low down on her belly again and rubbed her cheek against the soft skin. Muscles twitched beneath her mouth. “Hold on to something.”

“I am.” Harper’s hand tightened on the back of her neck, drawing her mouth closer.

Presley pressed a kiss to the delta between Harper’s thighs. Harper went rigid as stone beneath her palms. She kissed her again, deeper, and Harper groaned. The sound went through her like the surgeon’s knife, swift and clean and bright. She slid her arms around Harper’s hips and held her close, held her up, as she stroked and kissed and licked and drove her up…up and up and over. Harper trembled and groaned Presley’s name, rocking against her.

Presley slid one hand to her own trousers, opened them, and pushed them down. She was ready to come but she wanted Harper’s skin against her when she did. As soon as Harper stilled she rose, dragged Harper under the water, and kissed her. The water was cool compared to the heat of Harper’s mouth, the burning invitation of Harper’s skin.

“Ah God, I’m so ready for you.” Gasping, Presley pressed her face to Harper’s neck. “Please.”