'And even though you worked unpaid as his housekeeper you knew you could never take another penny from your stepfather,' Thomson finished for her, and Yancie turned in her seat and stared at him.

'How do you know me so well?' she gasped.

The corner of his mouth twitched. `I don't I'm learning all the time.'

He made that sound so nice that Yancie was near to crumbling as he slowed the car and steered it up the drive to his house. That, she felt, as he pulled up at his door, had to be the most terrific drive of her life. The trouble was that she didn't want to part from him-yet had absolutely no reason to linger.

Yancie quickly pulled herself together. Good grief, they'd just been talking of pridehad she none where he was concerned? Acting on the moment, as Thomson started to come round to the passenger's door, she quickly got out and pinned a bright smile on her face.

'Thanks for the loan of the jacket!' she said cheerfully, taking it off and handing it to him-at once feeling in danger of getting frostbite as the cold night air nipped.

Thomson looked at her-five feet eight, slender and totally feminine. 'You'll be all right driving on your own at this hour?'

She looked back at him and sorely needed some backbone-she was in danger of melting. `You'll have to watch that, Wakefield,' she jibed. `Your gentlemanly streak is showing!'

He studied her. `Are you always looking for trouble?' he asked good-humouredly.

'It always seems to find me without me having to look for it especially,' she laughed-and then, as the cold night bit, she shivered-and Thomson took decisive action.

'You can't go home like that. You'd better come in; I'll get you a sweater.'

'I wouldn't dream…' She was talking to herself. He was already unlocking the door to his house, and he still had the car keys. `You don't have to…' she protested anyway, following him in. `Once I'm inside the car's heater will… '

'You've next to nothing on.' He closed the door behind her, and was totally intransigent. `With those bitty shoulder straps you're all bare arms and bare chest.'

'Thanks,' she said sniffily.

And suddenly he seemed to relent. From being several paces away from her he all at once came back to her.

'Give way, Yancie,' he said softly, and at his tone she was melting again. 'I'm not happy about your driving through London, stopping at traffic lights, dressed as you are.'

Because I'm an employee and you don't want the responsibility of someone opening a car door and getting in beside me? Just because I'm an employee? 'I'll lock myself in,' she said.

'Of course you will,' he answered. But instructed, `Wait there.'

She didn't, of course. Though she didn't go far. She watched him go up the curving staircase and then, her mind on him more than what she was doing, she wandered off to the room she had been in before-his drawing room.

Thomson did not keep her waiting but returned in no time, carrying a blue cashmere sweater which he handed to her. 'I'll take the very best care of it,' she promised solemnly and again knew the greatest reluctance to leave-heaven alone knew when, if ever, she might see him again. `Goodnight, then,' she said.

'Put the sweater on,' he said.

'Oh! Right!' she answered, though instead of putting it on-and she just couldn't believe it-she actually heard herself say, `You realise, of course, that you've done me out of my goodnight kiss?' Had she said that? Had she actually said those words? Had she really invited Thomson to kiss her? Was she so starved of love that she had to beg?

She wanted to apologise, to run-oh, heaven help her, Thomson was looking at her as if he couldn't believe his hearing either! Yancie could have wept from the embarrassment of it. But Thomson was coming nearer and there was suddenly a glint in his eyes which she was a little unsure about.

And while she stood there staring, wanting her words back, he calmly took the sweater out of her hands and dropped it on the back of a chair, remarking, `I find it quite astounding, Yancie Dawkins, that you're still a virgin.'

'L…' she tried, but her voice died in her throat as he came that little bit closer-but she no longer wanted to run because, while giving her all the time in the world to do just that if she so wished, Thomson was reaching for her.

He looked down into her wide blue eyes and, when she had no other comment to make, he gently pulled her closer to him. As his head came down, Yancie closed her eyes, her heart giving a great quivering sigh of gladness when his sensational mouth touched hers.

It wasn't a brief touch of his lips to hers, but was firm as well as gentle, and her legs went weak. Involuntarily, her hands went to his waist, and she held onto him. He was warm and wonderful and he held her to him and, as gently as it had begun, his kiss ended.

Thomson pulled back, and Yancie stared up at him. `That was's-some goodnight kiss,' she murmured huskily, and knew she should let go of him and get out of there. But she didn't want to go and, since Thomson still had his arms around her, it didn't look as if he wanted her to go either.

In fact, he was still looking warmly down into her upturned face when he enquired softly, `I don't suppose you'd care for another?'

Yancie smiled dreamily up at him, and if that wasn't enough of an answer she moved her hands from merely holding his waist, and put her arms around him. And, as she had known, Thomson was quicker than most on the uptake. The next she knew was that his mouth was capturing hers, and he was kissing her again, only this time it was a little different.

And since she was fully cooperating, giving him kiss for kiss, his mouth ceased merely giving but sought and took, and Yancie held tightly onto him. She had been kissed before, but there had always been a shut-off point, a so far but no further point. But, as Thomson's kisses deepened, so that invisible barrier was reached, and as he took her with him to one of the sofas in the room, so as new and exciting emotions started to rock her, her shut-off point was sublimely passed with Yancie being completely unaware of it.

All she was aware of as Thomson trailed kisses down her throat and over her shoulders was that this was the salve she needed to the loneliness of spirit she had endured each day that she had not seen him.

Then somehow she was on the wide sofa with him, Thomson half lying over her. He raised his head and looked into her warm, inviting eyes. `You're so lovely, Yancie,' he murmured, `so beautiful,' and again he kissed her, his long, sensitive fingers caressing her shoulders, brushing aside the fine shoulder straps of her dress, and Yancie wanted to be beautiful-for him.

But, even while she knew that she was willing to go wherever he led, suddenly, when gently, sensitively his hand caressed down to her breast, and she felt his warmth as he teased the hard pink tip, and she became aware that his intimate touch was on the inside and not outside of her dress, some unwanted kind of hesitancy started to stir in her which she did not want to stir.

To defy it, she held onto him, and, when he raised his head again, she kissed him. And would deny him nothing when he lowered his head once more and kissed her naked breast, taking its aroused pink apex into his mouth, causing her to clutch him from the pure pleasure of it.

To say no was nowhere in her mind. How could she say no, when she didn't want to say no? Why should she say no? She loved him what else mattered?

But something did matter, and she hated that it did, be it her inner convictions grown over the years, or the knowledge that this love she bore for Thomson was so utterly one-sided; she was too emotionally involved to be able to sort out what.

All she knew just then was that, while she wanted to continue to be held by Thomson, while she was aching to continue to make love with him, she couldn't-something was holding her back.

She felt his hand on her thigh. `Thomson,' she cried, and she guessed he must have picked up that something in her cry that wasn't yes, yes, yes, because his hand stilled, moved from her thigh, and came up to her chin.

'Yancie?' he queried, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her.

'Oh, Thomson,' she lamented, `I know I'm giving you all the-er-f-full-speed-ahead's-signals, but…'

She had no need to go on; she knew that as soon as he began to straighten her shoulder straps-and that was before he took up, `But you're not sure.'

He didn't add anything, but sat up, moving her to sit up. And, once sitting beside him, while with most of her she wanted to lie down with him again, to feel again the warmth of his embrace, there was that part of her that still said no.

'I'm sorry,' she said, starting to feel absolutely dreadful, particularly as Thomson was taking this halt to the proceedings so extremely well. `I d-don't suppose this has ever happened to you before.'

He smiled then, and she felt as if her heart would burst with the love she had for him when he gently tapped her on the nose, and dryly commented, `With you, Yancie, I'm learning it's wise to expect the unexpected.' And, while finding herself in such strange territory she had no clue to what she should do next, he stood up and went and collected the blue sweater from the chair. `Come on,' he instructed. `If you go now you might manage to get in a couple of hours' sleep before you have to get up again.'

Yancie left the sofa, and obediently pulled the sweater down over her head. 'I'm sorry,' she repeated as Thomson went with her to the front door.

'You're all right to drive?' he questioned.

'Yes, fine,' she answered, and as he unlocked the car and handed her the key she found that, away from the sofa, away from the drawing room, the house, the cold night air had some small sobering effect. She looked up at him, some tiny portion of her equilibrium restored. `Goodnight, Mr Wakefield, sir,' she managed lightly, and as he looked down at her she promptly had her equilibrium shattered when he bent and saluted her mouth with his own.