He stroked her back with terrifying tenderness, his eyes alight with a desire she’d waited so desperately to see. She heard his harsh intake of breath as he shifted over her, pressing hips to hips, felt the muscles in his shoulders bunch as he moved down. Then, through the thin cotton of her shirt, he nuzzled her, gently nipping with his teeth.

Her hands ran over his shoulders, his chest, over the sleek muscles of his back, pressing, urging. In response, his body moved against hers in a rhythm as old as time. Long, lean fingers skimmed up her thigh, raising the shirt as they went, over her hip, past the indentation of her waist, high on her ribs.

Trisha held her breath, watching his bent head drink in the sight of her. Gently, he cupped a breast, his thumb gliding over the hard, aching tip. Her head fell back against the arm that held her to him, as an intense, sharp need left her limp. Then he took her pebbled nipple into his mouth, his tongue slowly circling it teasingly, until she thought she would die of the pleasure. When he sucked her into his mouth, hard, she felt nothing but a bright burst of raw desire.

Hunter looked at her flushed face, at her glorious body spread out before him. He’d been trying to regain some semblance of control, but it was slipping, badly. Drinking in the sight of her body, bathed softly in moonlight, almost undid him. The virginal white of her T-shirt flirted with the creamy, soft texture of her skin. Her full, curved breasts, still damp from his tongue, made his mouth water, the lush flare of her hips made his fingers itch to touch. White bikini panties covered her feminine secrets. Demure, yet incredibly sensual. The powerful combination electrified him. “Trisha, you’re so beautiful.” The choppy little sounds escaping her lips were the sexiest he’d ever heard. Lightly, gently, he cupped her.

She whimpered his name, gripping him tight.

His control shattered.

He wrapped Trisha in his arms, pressed her hard into the bedding, and crushed his mouth to hers. Kissing her with a heated thoroughness didn’t diminish the need, instead it fueled it. So did the endearingly awkward way she held him so close he could hardly breathe. He didn’t mind one bit. Reaching down, he slid his fingers under cotton, through soft curls, and found her slick and hot for him.

She gasped. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

He thrust gently into her and groaned at the exquisite wet, velvety feel of her. Tight, he thought, so unbelievably tight. Lightly, but sure and utterly relentless, he moved his fingers until his name tumbled from her lips, her voice low, shaky… anxious.

“It’s all right,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to feel you explode, Trisha. Come for me.” Then he kissed her fiercely, while his touch had her quivering, panting. In the next instant the delicious tension in her shattered as she surrendered with a wordless cry of wonder.

He held back, waiting until she was lost in the storm, trembling and shuddering, before he patiently started again, dipping his head to lave at her breast.

Trisha could hardly stand it. Drowning in the endless waves of pleasure, she couldn’t catch her breath. Within seconds she felt herself trembling again, so close, so very close…

Above her, Hunter went still.

With hungry, desperate desire pounding her, blood raging through her veins, Trisha couldn’t think beyond her own need. She gripped his arms. Beneath her fingers, she felt him quiver and knew he was holding back purposely. “Hunter.”

Lifting his head, he stared at her, his mouth still wet from kissing her breast. “The alarm,” he said thickly.

She let out a little laugh. She’d heard bells, too, they’d been ringing in her head ever since he first kissed her so hotly. “It’s not real -” She stiffened.

They were real. She heard them now. Only it wasn’t a bell, but a siren, loud and getting louder.

With regret and an unleashed fire burning in his eyes, Hunter’s gaze ran down the length of her exposed body. “They’re coming here.”

The siren came closer, got louder.

“No,” she whispered. “No!” Reflexively, she clamped her thighs tight, holding his hand against her.

Hunter sighed and dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry, Trisha.”

She didn’t relax her thighs, still imprisoning his hand against the hot, desperate part of her that needed him. She couldn’t. A sound of wordless remorse left his lips as he tenderly pried open her legs. With a last, soft kiss to her lips, he sat up, slowly, regretfully.

From her window came the flash of red-and-white lights. The siren wailed once loudly, then cut.

“But…” Her hips were still mindlessly rocking, her body still tingled and ached and wanted… Dammit, she felt like crying.

Then Hunter reached for her, ran the pad of his thumb once lightly over her lips before pulling her shirt back down to her thighs. “Someone must have called them when the alarm went off,” he said quietly, his voice not quite steady as he stood and walked to the door.

From far below came the sound of voices.

“I’ll go tell them what happened.”

Still sprawled on the bed, she could only stare at him. Was she the only one rendered positively speechless by what had just happened, by what had almost happened?

No. Even in the dark, she could see the blatant evidence of his own raging desire.

“I still want you,” she whispered.

“Trisha – God, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to go before they come up here looking for the fire.”

“Come back?” she whispered, but he’d turned away and didn’t hear her. The skin of his sleek back glistened, and she knew no matter what he wanted to think, he wasn’t immune to what had taken place between them.

She ached to touch him.

“Try to go back to sleep,” he said quietly, then turned back to her. “It’s late.”

Her gaze rose to his face and she realized the awful truth. He wasn’t coming back. Already, he’d reestablished his distance. Her only comfort was that barely checked hunger flickering in his eyes.

Fine, he wanted to suffer alone, she’d let him. Pride refused to allow her to beg him. But it was difficult, knowing he was leaving, and that every inch of her still trembled for his touch. “Good-bye, Hunter.”

For one last interminable moment, he looked at her. Stark need shimmered there, for her. So did something else, something deeper. Basic affection, yes, but even more. It thrilled, even as it terrified. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Anything she said now would have him bolting, running scared.

“Trisha.”

Her name spoken so sweetly made her heart thump. But then his lashes lowered, and he masked his emotions from her. “Good night,” he whispered, and he left.

He still feared this, she realized. The loss of control wasn’t acceptable to him.

Sleep, he’d suggested.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered with a shaky sigh. “I’ll be able to get some sleep now.” Trisha punched her pillow, burrowed deeply into her blankets, and tried not to remember what his mere touch had done to her. Or how good his body had felt against hers.

Tried not to think about something even more disturbing: She was falling in love with him, if she wasn’t already there.

“So,” Celia asked with a sly smile when Trisha made it into work the next day, “did the basket do the trick? Did it do something for you?”

“It did something, all right.” It had given her a ridiculous headache, among other things. Trisha slipped out of her coat and moved into the shop. The scent of lilacs and wood filled the air. Music drummed, pulsing pleasantly. From deep inside, an inner peace worked its way through Trisha’s tense body. Her slight hangover began to fade.

Here, at least, she could relax.

She hoped.

“You don’t look so well,” Celia said, moving close, looking worried. Her hair today was red, still spiky, with an interesting white streak down one side. Her one-piece bodysuit, jet-black and vinyl, matched her black-lacquered fingernails. Somehow, in the way only Celia could carry off, she looked gorgeous. “What’s the matter, honey?”

“Late night,” Trisha muttered, shrugging off the concern. It just might make her fall apart.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

She hadn’t slept at all once Hunter had left her, her body so charged and fired up, it wouldn’t, couldn’t relax. Finally she’d hugged her pillow tight, imagined it was Hunter’s long, lean, hard body, and dozed fitfully until dawn.

His car, bent fender and all, had been gone when she awoke.

“Trisha?” came Celia’s worried voice.

“I’m fine.” She sighed, turned, and faced her closest – and only – friend. Celia had been there through thick and thin – always. Even when Trisha had moved from California early on, they’d kept in touch with constant letters. In late high-school years, when Uncle Victor had been reassigned and Trisha had moved back, their friendship had continued as if they’d never been separated. Never in Trisha’s life had making friends been easy, never, except with Celia. “The basket was wonderful, and it definitely worked – for a while.”

“Awhile?”

Trisha took a deep breath. “Until Hunter arrived, found me passed out cold in the bed with the fire alarm blaring.”

“Oh my God.” Celia, a woman never startled or ruffled, stared at her, eyes huge. With unmistakable hope, she asked, “Did he take advantage?”

“Celia! I wasn’t drunk.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Celia said faithfully, dropping all pretense of trying to sort through a box of new merchandise. “What happened? Did you do the deed?”

“Celia.”

“Sorry. No, I’m not. Tell me.”

“I guess the smoke from all the candles set off the alarm, but I fell asleep so fast…”

“You were very tired.”