She was very much afraid this was the real deal. It might not make sense, but there you had it all the same.

The question was, what did she do about it?

For instance, even if he were to return her feelings— and face it, that was a mighty big if—was she willing to simply set aside her dream of opening her own restaurant to follow a soldier around the country?

No. Straightening, she dropped the sheet to reach for her periwinkle satin robe hanging from the back of the door. Let's get real here for a minute . Love was all very grand, but despite what the songs would have you believe, it wasn't always the be-all and end-all of every problem. Her dream was something she'd nourished for a lifetime … and that wasn't an aspiration one just blithely tossed aside. Not to mention she'd had her fill of moving every nine months with her parents and wasn't prepared to do it again.

Zach would probably be horrified in any case, if he had any idea she was in here attempting to decide their future. Chances were fair to decent that before he'd ever made his move, he'd figured the odds of her equating a roll in the hay with the chime of wedding bells. And considering she was a long way from anyone's idea of a starry-eyed kid, he'd undoubtedly come to the conclusion that she was old enough to know the score—that she could be trusted not to build fantastical scenarios out of thin air simply because the two of them had finally acted on the sexual tension that had been simmering between them since they'd first laid eyes on one another.

Tweaking her hair into some semblance of order, she pulled herself up to her tallest posture, then pulled her robe closed and tied the belt around her waist. She had to get back in there before he began wondering just what the heck she was doing. About all she could do at this point was take the situation as it came and live minute to minute if that's what it took.

Only, please, God, don't let me give myself away. All these new emotions left her feeling vulnerable and exposed, and she didn't want to look like a fool. It was the one thing she didn't think she could bear.

Zach was lying on his side with his head resting against the biceps of his updrawn arm when she walked back into the room, but he pushed up on his elbow the moment he saw her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, sure. Absolutely." And his genuine concern made it easy for her to flash him a natural smile. He looked dark and powerful against the white sheet that had fallen to his waist. But for such a tough guy, he certainly was protective of her feelings.

In the next instant, as if fearing she might misread his solicitude, his eyebrows drew together. "Listen, Lily, I think we should talk about—"

Oh, gawd. Quickly crossing to the bed, she plopped down next to his hip and reached out to press her finger to his lips. The last thing she thought she could stand right now was the big, serious this-has-been-fun-but-let's-not-lose-perspective talk. "You don't have to worry that I'll expect too much from you," she promised softly. "We're both adults here, and I know the important thing right now is for you to get Glynnis and David back. So why don't we just keep things nice and easy between us?"

He wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her finger away from his lips. "I haven't nearly had my fill of you," he said harshly.

Lily thought it a pretty sad commentary that his obvious frustration lit her up like a mason jar full of fireflies. Good grief, was that a measure of how far gone she was, or what? But she managed to keep her voice light when she replied, "Good. Because I haven't had my fill of you, either."

"Then you can be damn sure we'll do this again," he said. "Only—"

"I know," she interrupted him gently, realizing she couldn't bear to have his reservations spelled out for her. Not right this minute, while she was still raw from all these new feelings. "You have Glynnis to rescue, and I… well, my priority is getting my dream restaurant up and running. So I understand, okay?"

"Yeah," he said roughly, and his deep voice licked goosebumps down her spine from nape to tailbone. Whipping his arm around her waist, he tumbled her flat on her back next to him and rose up over her. "Yeah," he repeated, looking down at her with those charcoal-rimmed, intense pale eyes. "Okay."

As the busy signal sounded in his ear yet one more time, it took everything Zach had to keep from slamming down the phone in frustration. Instead he replaced the receiver with exaggerated care, then turned to stare for about the dozenth time at the door connecting his room to the bathroom that connected to Lily's. It was a damn good thing she was downstairs preparing breakfast for everyone, he thought, because he had a wild hair up his butt urging him to go pick a fight with her.

The thought brought him up short. Jesus, Taylor, what is your problem? Last night was fantastic — she pretty much handed you everything you could possibly ask for, all gift wrapped with a nice gold bow. So what's got you feeling so pissed off ? He plowed both hands through his hair. He wasn't so egotistical that he thought one hot session between the sheets, no matter how inspired, would motivate her to declare her love everlasting. On the other hand, they had shared some-thing pretty damn special—and she'd been in an awful big rush to just blow it all off, hadn't she?

"Uh!" Loosening his fingers from his hair, he smacked himself in the forehead with the heels of his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? They'd fucked like minks all night long, and he ought to be relieved he hadn't needed to tell her not to expect a lot from him in the way of the emotional garbage that most women seemed to want. So why did the fact she'd beaten him to the punch have him all bent out of shape instead? Hell, she'd offered him the best of all worlds. She'd volunteered her kisses, and access to her gorgeous body, and all of her sweetness and smiles, without any of that messy, clingy, needy shit that usually went along with it. He ought to—

Screwought to. Uttering another rough sound, he turned back to the phone and snatched up the receiver again. This time when he punched in Cooper's number, the phone on the other end of the line rang.

It was picked up on the third ring. "Yeah?"

"Coop, it's Zach."

"Hey, Midnight, how y'holding together? I imagine all this waiting around has gotta be a bitch, huh?"

Not as tough as it would've been without Lily's brand of distraction. The thought no sooner crossed his mind than he shook his head impatiently. "I'm hanging tough. I, uh, wonder, though, if I could ask you and John a favor."

"Sure. Shoot."

"We're supposed to hear back from the kidnapper on Saturday. Would you and Rocket lend a hand with the take-down? I could use some backup that I can trust—a reserve force that no one living in this heap of rocks knows anything about."

There was a momentary hesitation, and Zach, already sensitive at having to ask, asked stiffly, "Is there a problem?"

"Hell no. I'm just trying to think what I'll tell Ronnie."

What he'd—? For the first time that morning, Zach felt a smile crook up the corners of his mouth. "The Iceman has to ask the little woman if he can go out and play? Tell me it isn't true, Blackstock."

"It isn't true," Coop promptly replied. Then he laughed. "Shit. If I hear even a whisper of the word pussy-whipped, pal, I'll have to hurt you. But I know Ronnie, and she's gonna want to come along to lend a hand. I have to find a way to avoid that."

Zach was nonplussed. "What does she think she can do that three trained Marines can't?"

"Beats the hell outta me, but she'll want to help anyhow. In any case, count us in. We'll come up Friday and find a place to stay. Just pick a place for us to get together to work out the logistics."

"Thanks, Coop."

His friend made a rude noise. "Screw that. I'd want to be there when Glynnis gets home anyway, to check out her new boyfriend. Someone's gotta make sure the peckerwood's good enough for her." A voice rumbled in the background and Coop snorted.

"What?" Zach demanded.

"Rocket says the peckerwood's got money, and the way your baby sis runs through hers, that's at least a start."

A bark of laughter escaped Zach's throat.

"Here, John wants to talk to you," Coop said, and there was a faint shuffling sound as he handed off the phone.

A second later, Rocket's voice came down the line. "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Then, too antsy for small talk, he demanded, "You have any luck with those background checks?"

"Depends on your definition of luck." At Zach's impatient sound, his voice turned serious. "Sorry, Midnight. But just once it would be nice to investigate a family who was less Borgia and more frigging Brady Bunch. I have information, but it doesn't narrow down the field much."

Great. Zach had known better than to expect an easy solution, but still his gut clenched. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he blew out a breath. "So what are you telling me here—that the Beaumonts are all in bed together?"

John laughed. "No, it's not that bad. No machinations with incestuous overtones. As with most things, amigo, it pretty much boils down to money. The wealth in that family belongs strictly to Glynnis's David. He inherited the whole ball of wax when his father died."

"No shit?" Zach looked around the sumptuous room he'd been assigned. "Everything went to him?"

"Looks like. Mama Bear receives a modest annual stipend, but all the rest—the family business, the family home—went to Baby Bear."

"Kinda makes you wonder how she feels about that, doesn't it?"