“Seems that I’d signed my half of the farm over to Jenna in that lawyer’s office,” Hawk said.

Contempt and amusement laced his voice and made his eyes as bleak as a winter sky.

“Seems that Jenna had been sleeping with that lawyer for a while,” Hawk said. “Seems that I was on my own. And Jenna? Well, Jenna was gone. Big city lights and men who didn’t have Texas dirt ground into the skin of their hands.”

“What did you do?” asked Angel after a moment.

Her voice was soft, almost afraid. The Hawk she knew today would have hunted Jenna down. Then Angel realized that the Hawk she knew today wouldn’t have been taken in by Jenna.

Hawk wouldn’t have cared enough to hunt anyone down.

“I raced cars,” Hawk said.

The clipped words told Angel more than she wanted to know. She saw a younger Hawk driving like a man possessed, not caring about living or dying or anything in between.

“I had women, too,” Hawk said. “As long as I was winning, anyway. Too many losses, a crash, and the women went away. Start winning again, and they came back like great, buzzing black flies.”

Angel closed her eyes at the contempt in Hawk’s voice, contempt for the women and for himself.

“You’re lucky you didn’t kill yourself,” she said when she trusted her voice.

“It took me a while to figure that out,” Hawk admitted. “At first, I was kind of disappointed by all the near misses.”

Angel shuddered.

“Then a funny thing happened,” Hawk said slowly. “Each time I nearly died, life became more valuable to me. By the time I was twenty-three, I knew that racing wasn’t a bright way for a grown man to make a living. It took me six months to come back from that crash, and another three years to make enough money to get out of the race game altogether.”

“What did you do?”

“Played the stock market. Bought and sold land. I had a flair for it. Like racing. And like racing, I didn’t really care whether I won or lost. The adrenaline was enough.”

“And now?” Angel whispered.

Hawk’s hand hesitated. Without touching her, he traced the smooth line of her spine and thought of all the women he’d taken and then left, the cold emptiness of the sky and his heart, the hunt and the kill and the taste of ashes.

“Now, adrenaline isn’t enough,” he said. “But it’s better than nothing.”

The bleak acceptance in Hawk’s voice was a talon sliding into Angel, pain searing through her. She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to bear looking at him without touching him, giving him a simple moment of human contact, human caring.

But she was still afraid of him, afraid of herself. Most of all, she was afraid of the sensual hunger that rippled tightly through her when she remembered the initial beauty of their lovemaking.

She hadn’t forgotten how it ended, pain and contempt and fury.

Hawk lifted the cloth, touched Angel’s skin gently, and reached for the antibiotic salve. He had picked it up along with his jeans – the jeans he had pulled over his swimsuit, blurring the blunt outline of his desire.

He rubbed the balm into Angel’s skin so carefully that she hardly felt it.

“How does your back feel now?” he asked after a time.

“Better,” she said, sitting up. “Much less sore.”

Angel’s words reassured Hawk, but her voice was frayed and she refused to look at him.

“Angel?”

Silently she shook her head. Her hair fell over her face, veiling her tears before Hawk could see them. He had heard them in her voice, though.

Gently he smoothed back the bright fall of hair. Tears sparkled on her eyelashes.

“I’m sorry,” Hawk said, afraid to touch her, to wound her again. “I never meant to hurt you, Angel. Not you. I didn’t realize that you were different from the others.”

Angel’s eyes opened, releasing the glittering tears. Through them she saw the pain on Hawk’s face, the regret shadowing his eyes and making his voice hoarse.

“I know that now,” she whispered.

Slowly, Hawk gathered Angel into his arms, holding her lightly, murmuring words of comfort. Tears welled transparently, for she was helpless to stop them.

Hawk’s life had been so different from Angel’s. She knew now why he had become harsh, merciless, predatory, a man with neither softness nor love in him.

Yet he wanted love, needed it, longed for it with a fierceness that would have frightened Angel if it hadn’t been so like her own hunger. She touched his cheek with a hand that shook very slightly.

“It’s all right, Hawk. Now I understand what happened. You had never known love, and I had never known hate.”

“Angel… ” Hawk whispered.

Her lips curved in a sad smile.

“No wonder we misjudged each other so badly,” she said. “You thought I was pretending to love. That’s what you called me, wasn’t it? An actress?”

Hawk closed his eyes, unable to bear seeing Angel’s sadness and trembling smile.

“Yes,” he said.

“I’m a terrible actress.”

“Yes,” he whispered, smoothing his palms over her arms, her shoulders. “I know that. Now.”

Angel stared up at Hawk, caught by the emotion in his voice.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said fiercely. “Hawk, listen to me! I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“I do.”

“But – ”

“You gave me what you had given to no other man,” Hawk said. “And I… I gave you what I’d given to every other woman. Your innocence shocked me. Your truth destroyed me. So I hurt you. Badly. You’re still hurting.”

Hawk’s mouth brushed over Angel’s hand, her wrist, the parted lips that trembled too close to his.

“Let me give you something besides pain,” he said softly. “Let me use what I know for something besides destruction. I won’t take you. I won’t touch you with more than my hands, my mouth, my breath.”

Angel looked into Hawk’s clear, extraordinary eyes and saw only herself reflected in them, her own need to create beauty from the jagged shards of the past.

Hawk’s face was no longer cruel. It held an agony of hope suspended, waiting like a child for presents that never came, waiting for a love that was measured only by its absence, an aching emptiness as cold and blue as the sky.

Then Hawk felt the warmth of Angel’s body beneath his hands, felt the sweet sigh of her breath against his chest, felt the tremor ripple through her as she gave herself to his keeping.

“Yes,” Angel whispered.

The word swept through Hawk, a gift greater than any he had ever been given. He tried to speak, to thank Angel for the trust he didn’t deserve. He had no voice.

Hawk’s hands trembled as they caressed Angel’s hair. He held her lightly against his body and rocked slowly, eyes closed, absorbing her presence within his arms.

Lips that were warm and gentle kissed Angel’s temple, her eyelids, the hollow of her cheek. Long, strong fingers eased into her hair, bringing its sun-bright warmth to Hawk’s mouth.

He buried his face in her silky curls, breathing in her scent until he was dizzy with her sweetness. Then he felt Angel smooth her cheek against the gleaming black hair on his chest and thought he would break with pleasure.

Slowly his index finger tilted her face up to his. For a long moment Hawk looked at the blue-green mystery of Angel’s eyes, radiance and color and almost no shadow at all. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.

The first touch was so sweet, so gentle, that tears formed in Angel’s eyes. Her eyelashes lowered, concealing her tears. When her breath came in through parted lips, it brought with it a subtle taste of Hawk, warmth and tenderness and restraint.

Tenderly Hawk kissed the corners of Angel’s mouth, outlined the curve of her smile with the moist tip of his tongue, and then brushed his mouth repeatedly over hers. His lips barely touched hers with each kiss, each gliding caress that ended almost before it began.

Then he began all over again, touching her temples and eyes and smile, his tongue gentle on her lips, his mouth restrained and sweet as he worshipped her with small, exquisite caresses.

Deep inside her body, Angel felt herself come apart with a slow, liquid unraveling that brought a soft moan to her throat. Tears slid soundlessly down her cheeks, moistening Hawk’s lips as his tongue had moistened hers.

He felt her tears, tasted them, and lifted his head.

“Angel?” he asked softly, his voice deepening over a tremor of emotion. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You make me feel so beautiful,” she whispered, opening her eyes and looking into Hawk’s. “I’ve never felt beautiful before. Not like this.”

The words both humbled and exalted Hawk, shaking him with a fierce pleasure he had never known until this instant.

“Thank you,” he said huskily. Then he whispered against Angel’s cheek, “Touching you teaches me the meaning of the word beauty.”

Angel shivered as Hawk’s lips found the sensitive rim of her ear. His tongue tip moved lightly, sensuously, warmly, spiraling down and in until he knew all the secret turns and curves of her ear. For a moment his tongue hardened, probing, and then he retreated, taking warmth with him.

Trembling, Angel made a small sound. Hawk lifted his head and looked at her through half-closed eyes, reading pleasure and growing passion in the taut line of her body. His hand shaped itself to her throat, savoring the softness and the pulse racing beneath his thumb.

Angel’s own hands reached out to Hawk. Her fingers were warm at his waist and the small of his back as she snuggled against him. He closed his eyes, not wanting her to see the hunger clawing through him at her innocent touch.

“You’re so warm,” she said, turning her head until she could rest her lips against Hawk’s chest. “And furry.”

She lifted her head. Laughter and sensual pleasure made her eyes brilliant.