"You're absolutely right," he said, unable to deny the obvious, then changed the subject before she asked what kind of work was taking him out of town. "So, what are you reading?" he asked curiously.

She stretched her legs and wiggled her toes. "One of my college psycho-babble books."

Not sure what she meant, he inclined his head questioningly.

"That's what Murphy calls them." She shook her head, sending her silky hair swaying across her shoulders, and laughed lightly. "I'm amazed at some of the silliest things I remember!"

"Do you remember your classes and what you're studying?" he prompted, treading carefully with his inquiry, wanting to learn as much as he could without her feeling as though he was interrogating her.

"Surprisingly, I do." She smoothed a hand over the glossy cover of her book, then glanced back at him with a smile. "I'm majoring in social work and I know I want to be a counselor to help troubled kids, specifically foster children."

"Which is a very admirable cause," he said, meaning it. And her kind, gentle and caring demeanor made her a perfect candidate for the job.

She shrugged off his compliment. "I've been there before, so I can relate to kids who are part of the system and don't feel as though they have a place where they belong."

"Is that how you felt growing up?" he asked, genuinely interested in her past, in anything that would give him better insight to her.

Natalie leaned her head back against the cushioned lounge chair and stared out at the landscaped backyard as she considered Noah's question, which stirred up a wealth of emotions and obscure memories that gradually became clearer in her mind.

She returned her gaze to his and tried her best to explain what her childhood had been like. "It wasn't easy being shuffled from one home to another. It seemed just when I'd finally feel secure, something would happen and I'd get sent to another home with another set of strangers as my foster family and I'd have to start all over again. After a while, you try not to get attached to the people you're living with, which makes the process less painful."

Compassion deepened the blue hue of his eyes. "I can imagine what you went through-I felt that way when my parents divorced, then passed away," he said. "What was the longest amount of time you spent with a foster family?"

She thought back, waiting while obscure recollections crystalized. "Two years, during the time I was sixteen to eighteen years old, and then from there I was on my own."

As she spoke, she caught a quick glimpse of a blond-haired teenager, and remembered him as the son of the couple she'd been living with during those last two years. More fragmented scenes projected in her mind, throwing her off kilter with recollections of fending off his advances and hating that she had such large breasts and a figure that attracted too much attention from the opposite sex.

Strangely, that memory contradicted the desire she felt so intensely with Noah. The need that was physical as much as it was emotional.

Another male face flashed in the dim recesses of her mind, but this obscure recollection came with an ominous, intimidating feeling that made her shiver. Unable to pinpoint the source of the threat, or place who the man was, she frowned and closed her eyes, trying to bring the mental image into better focus. Instead of a clearer vision, her head spun and her temples pounded with the effort of forcing memories to the surface.

"Natalie?"

Warm fingers touched her arm, startling her out of her trance. Blinking her eyes open, she glanced at Noah, who was watching her intently. Unable to put into words what her mind couldn't even process, she decided to keep the haunting memories to herself for the time being.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted." She sighed, not wanting to talk about her past with Noah anymore, not until she had a chance to dissect her unsettling thoughts and make sense of them. "I've had enough sunshine and fresh air for the day, and I think I could use a nap."

He nodded his agreement, as she knew he would. "Good idea."

She headed upstairs while Noah returned to his office, but instead of sleeping she tossed and turned in his big bed, trying to resolve those old insecurities about her appearance with the uninhibited way she felt with Noah. Just the thought of him aroused her, and she closed her eyes and buried her face in his pillow. She inhaled slowly and deeply, surrounding herself with the musky, male scent of him, which intensified the growing hunger to know him again in the most intimate sense.

After an hour of fitful rest, she finally got back up again. Feeling mentally and physically restless and unable to shake the sensation, she headed into the bathroom and brushed her disheveled hair before heading back downstairs. Catching sight of the small white bandage on her cheek, she decided to clean her cut and apply a fresh dose of antibiotic cream.

She carefully peeled the old bandage off with a wince and swabbed the small gash with peroxide, then opened the medicine cabinet to look for the tube of Neosporin. A bevy of male toiletries lined the shelves, and she sighed. Other than a few feminine items, nothing looked familiar-not the can of Edge shaving gel, men's deodorant and after-shave, or the box of condoms sitting on the bottom shelf.

Condoms? She jerked her gaze back to the latter item and frowned. Hadn't Noah told her just last night that he didn't have any protection, so they couldn't make love? Certain the box had to be empty, she picked it up and looked inside, only to find it filled with at least a half-dozen foil packets.

Confusion trickled through her, which was quickly replaced by a surge of anger. Dammit, why did Noah feel as though he had to shelter and protect her, even from sex, when the last thing she wanted was to be coddled and treated like a helpless, delicate female who couldn't handle intimate physical contact?

Noah thought he knew what was best for her, but he didn't have a clue. Her body and soul craved him in an overwhelming, compelling way that wouldn't go away until she had him. Maybe not even then.

Jumping on the opportunity that had just presented itself, she withdrew a sealed packet. She would confront him with the evidence she'd found and demand an explanation for his refusal to make love to her.

And this time, armed with a condom, she wasn't taking no for an answer.

Chapter Six

Noah was so engrossed in work that he didn't hear or see Natalie enter his office until a small square packet dropped right on top of the paperwork he was reviewing. It took him a few seconds to recognize what had landed on his desk, but once the knowledge sank in, his stomach gave a sharp twist of dread.

Reluctantly, he glanced up and found Natalie standing on the other side of his desk, hands on her slender hips, her eyes blazing accusation, and her expression pinched with impatience.

He inwardly cringed. Oh, man, was he ever in trouble.

"What happened to the bandage on your cheek?" he asked in a quick attempt to deflect the attention off of him.

Her narrowed gaze told him she wasn't about to fall for his switch in topic. "I don't give a damn about my cheek at the moment. I'd rather you explain that." She pointed a finger at the prophylactic so there would be no doubt in his mind about what she was referring to.

Very calmly, he picked up the incriminating evidence and turned it over in his fingers, taking a long, drawn-out moment to examine it and buy himself some extra time. "Well, I have to say that it looks like a condom to me."

"Don't be a smart-ass, Noah," she said irritably, and pinned him with a direct look. "That's not what I meant and you know it. I can see for myself that it's a condom. What I want to know is why you lied about having any in the house."

He leaned back in his chair and affected a casual shrug. Ignoring the hurt and confusion in her eyes was a tad more difficult. "Because I don't think you're ready to make love."

Soft, dry laughter escaped her. "Don't you think that's a decision I can make for myself?"

Feeling uneasy at the direction this conversation was taking, he stood and stuffed the client information he'd been reviewing back into its proper file and set it aside. "You have amnesia, sweetheart, so I'm trying to make the decision easier for you, and I think you need time to recuperate from the accident first." God, his excuse sounded thin and insubstantial even to his own ears.

"And how long do you think I need until I can handle making love with you? A week? A month? A year?" She rounded the desk and boldly maneuvered herself between him and his desk so that they were aligned from chests to thighs, forcing him to acknowledge her and their sizzling attraction.

As if he could ignore it.

That quick, he grew hard and stiff with wanting her, his erection fitting perfectly at the crux of her thighs. Her fiery mood and determination turned him on, and he knew he had to do something fast or he'd succumb to her seductive scheme. Just as he attempted to take a safe step away from her for much-needed space, she grabbed his shirt and held him in place.

She rose up on her toes, putting her mouth inches below his. "I want you so badly, Noah, I ache with it." She lowered her lashes and nipped lightly at his jaw, then used her soft tongue to soothe the love bite. "Stop treating me like a fragile piece of glass. I swear I won't break."

Bracing his hands on either side of her hips on the desk to keep from touching her, he shuddered and groaned, holding fast to his dwindling resolve. "Natalie-"

"Don't tell me no." The plea was heartfelt and brimmed with a wealth of emotion as her lips traveled up to his ear. "I need the closeness and intimacy of making love with you. I might have lost parts of my memory, but not my desire for you. That's stronger than ever."