They sat on the floor with their backs to the couch because Bob had claimed the couch first and was now stretched the length of it. At least that’s the excuse they made for sitting on the floor. The truth is the floor seemed less threatening. There were no cushions to mark boundaries on the floor. They could sit side by side, and the invasion of personal body space wasn’t so noticeable.

Daisy stole a glance at Steve as he dipped his spoon into the ice cream, then handed the carton to her. The sun was setting, and they hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights. His face was lit by the fire and seemed extraordinarily sexy. His eyes were shadowed, the line of his mouth drawn firm as he followed secret thoughts, and she found she was still a little frightened of him when he looked like this. Or maybe it was the proximity that was frightening. They were so close that if she leaned toward him ever so slightly, they’d be touching. It was a tantalizing thought, and it sent a dark sort of thrill racing through her.

“Last scoop of ice cream,” Daisy said. “You want it?”

“Wouldn’t touch it. You eat the last scoop of ice cream and you’re destined to become an old maid. My Aunt Zena told me that.”

Daisy ate the last scoop and set the carton aside. “I don’t have an Aunt Zena so it doesn’t count for me.”

“It counts for everyone. You’re in big trouble.”

“I like to live dangerously. I take my chances.”

His eyes shifted to her mouth, and she could feel desire growing between them. It felt like a thunderstorm gathering on the horizon. He was going to kiss her, and this time there’d be nothing to stop the kiss from turning into something much more serious. No Kevin in the next room, no pager to remind him of a meeting. She’d have to rely on her self-control, not something she could count on in this instance, she decided. She took a moment to debate the issue and reached the conclusion that sleeping with Steve Crow wouldn’t be in her best interest. She didn’t have the personality to dally, and Steve Crow looked like a dallier. More important, she didn’t have the time to devote to a romance. That last thought prompted an unconscious sigh of regret.

“I don’t like the sound of that sigh,” Steve said.

“I should be going home. I have studying to do.”

He slid his arm around her shoulders and playfully tugged on a curl. “What about living dangerously? What about taking chances?”

“I think I’ve tested the fates enough for one night.”

His hand curled around her neck and heat flooded through her as he drew her closer. “Don’t you want to hear what Aunt Zena has to say about missed opportunities?”

“You probably don’t even have an Aunt Zena.”

“That’s not the point,” he whispered into her hair.

She felt him kiss her just below her ear, felt his lips working their way around to her mouth, felt his hand slide under the too-short shirt. She gave herself one last warning. This was a mistake, she told herself. Their relationship would be irrevocably changed if they made love. Maybe not in his eyes, but certainly in hers. She couldn’t treat it lightly. It would bring a whole new set of responsibilities with it, and she already had more responsibility than she could handle. She was drowning in responsibility. And even worse would be the emotional investment.

She was already halfway in love with him. He was caring and generous and fun. He could be oddly vulnerable without ever seeming insecure. And she admired his balance. He had his ducks in a row, while she felt as if hers were all quacking for attention at once. Her clutch of ducks had gotten unwieldy and a little frantic. She’d never thought of herself as being unstable, but she was afraid of going on emotional overload if she allowed herself to fall more deeply in love.

Her arguments might have been valid, but they didn’t amount to a damn when he claimed her mouth. Her aspirations, responsibilities, carefully thought through plans for the future, and her fears skittered off as passion poured through her. She responded to his kiss with a kiss of her own that told him everything he needed to know. She wanted to be loved. She was hungry for it. In fact, she was more than hungry; she was starved.

His hands were under her shirt and she followed his lead. Thank goodness one of us knows how to do this, she thought. Not that she was a virgin, but it had been a long time. His hand moved to her leg. His fingers crept up the leg and under her shorts. Daisy did a mental yikes. His fingers found the elastic edge of her panties and skimmed across the silky material.

“W-w-wow,” she whispered

“Yeah,” Steve said softly. “Wow.” And then he did the skimming thing again.

“Go for the zipper,” Daisy said. “Lose the shorts!”

Lord, she thought. I’m such a slut, but man this feels good. And then it got a lot better.

They lay together for a while afterward, sweat-slicked and replete.

He trailed his fingertips across her temple, stroking the hair back from her face. He didn’t speak because he wasn’t sure he could trust his voice. Passion had been temporarily quenched, and had been replaced by tender possession so strong it took his breath away.

She was the first to stir, pulling her head back so she could see his eyes. She was embarrassed in the aftermath of the storm. “I think I got carried away,” she said.

His voice was softly reverent. “Lady, carried away doesn’t begin to say it.” He rolled to his side and kissed her. “I hope your intentions are honorable.”

“Honorable?”

“I’m not easy, you know. I have standards. I expect you to make an honest man of me. Especially after we did all this in front of Bob.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Bob. I’m not sure he’s breathing. Maybe you should hold a mirror under his nose.”

“My reputation is at stake.”

“Just exactly what is it you expect me to do?”

“Marry me, of course.”

Daisy giggled. “Of course.”

“You’re not taking me seriously.” And God help him, he was serious.

He was lying sprawled on his back, and he seemed perfectly comfortable, while Daisy felt more self-conscious with each passing second. She felt physically and mentally naked, and she wasn’t used to either. She’d practically attacked him. Granted there’d been sexual tension crackling between them since day one, but until this evening she’d managed to be civil about it. Until this evening she’d managed to hide her randiness, or at least to conceal it a little. Now he knew she was deprived and desperate. Or maybe he thought she was like this with everyone! She didn’t know which would be worse.

She sat up and grimaced at the tangle of clothes on the floor. “I have to go home.”

He kissed her at the base of her spine. “You could spend the night.”

“No!”

They both were surprised at how vehemently she’d said it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wriggling into her underwear. “I didn’t mean to shout.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You were wonderful. You did everything right… better than right. It’s me.”

Besides being mortally embarrassed, she realized she was scared. She was feeling emotions she had no business feeling. She loved him. Good Lord, don’t even think it, she warned herself. Don’t say it out loud, don’t formulate it in your mind, and wipe that expression of adulation off your face.

She was within inches of her doctorate; she was maxed out on education loans, and she was starting to get tired. If she slowed down now, she’d never make it. And Steve Crow could slow her down big-time. He’d have her going around in hormone heaven, dreaming fairy tales about how poor psychologists grow up to marry handsome oil tycoons.

She dropped her shirt over her head and tugged her shorts over her hips. “I’m sorry to have to run off like this. You probably think I’m rude, but the truth is, I’m a little discombobulated.”

“I understand.”

“Really?”

He pulled his shorts on. “No, but it seemed like the right thing to say.”

She caught a look at herself in the hall mirror and groaned. “I look like heck.”

“I think you look great. I think you should look like this more often. Every morning, in fact.And maybe once in a while in the afternoon.”

“Every morning?”

“For the rest of your life.”

“My Lord, I’d be dead in a year.”

Steve smashed his hand down on the alarm clock and stared glassy-eyed at the digital numbers. Five o’clock. So this was what it felt like to wake up at five o’clock, he thought. Not something he’d want to do on a regular basis. It was still dark outside. He didn’t give a fig about A.M. and P.M.; if it was dark it was night. He’d always thought people who rose before the sun were a little loony. He rolled out of bed and staggered into the bathroom, where he stared into the mirror for a while, waiting for his brain to catch up with his feet. He brushed his teeth, splashed cold water on his face, put on some jogging clothes, and tried to wake Bob.

“Get up,” he said. “I have a real treat for you today. We’re going jogging.”

Bob opened one eye and snuggled deeper into the quilt.

Steve turned on all the lights. “Look at this, fella. It’s morning!” he said, giving Bob a shake.

Bob growled low in his throat and kept his eyes firmly closed.

“That’s it,” Steve said. “No more Mr. Nice Guy. Get your lazy butt out of this bed!”

Fifteen minutes later they were in front of Daisy’s house. Steve held Bob’s leash in one hand and a box of Pop-Tarts in the other.

“This is the last one,” he said to Bob. “And you can consider this to be an official bribe. I expect a good performance out of you. I expect you to look like we do this all the time. We don’t want Daisy to think we’re a couple of slugs. Let her find that out after she marries us.”