Somehow, it didn't seem right for Wynter to be doing all the work.

"You can open that bottle of wine you brought," Wynter said as she peered into the oven. "This roast looks done. There's a corkscrew in the drawer on the far left of the counter. I hope you're hungry."

"Starving."

Wynter closed the oven door and turned slowly. "If we're going to get through dinner, you can't speak to me in that tone of voice."

The corner of Pearce's mouth quirked upward. "What tone?"

"That smoky, hungry, sexy tone. It goes right through me."

Every muscle in Pearce's body twitched. "Then stop saying things like that. It makes me want to jump you."

Wynter smiled a satisfied smile. "Fair is fair." She pointed toward the counter. "Corkscrew."

Pearce did as directed. She'd never met a woman who could control her so easily with just a smile. She'd been with beautiful women, smart women, sexy women, hot demanding avaricious women, but she'd never been anywhere near a woman who could turn her upside down with a glance. Hell, not even a glance, a single word. "This is crazy."

"What?"

"Nothing. Glasses?"

"Um...water glasses will have to do. I haven't found the wineglasses yet."

"Hell, I'd drink this out of a jelly glass."

"Don't laugh--it might come to that." Wynter placed the serving platter in the center of the table. She'd set two places adjacent to one another at one end, and although she couldn't find her good dishes, she had found the candles. She lit them with a flourish. "There."

"It looks great." Pearce put the wine bottle down on the table and slid her arms around Wynter's waist from behind and hugged her gently.

She rubbed her cheek against Wynter's hair. "Thank you."

Wynter leaned back and folded her arms over Pearce's, closing her eyes. Pearce's breath was warm against her cheek, her body solid and strong. She felt arousal awaken from the restless slumber to which she had remanded it a short time before and welcomed the resurgence of excitement. She loved the way Pearce made her feel. Desired and desirable. Alive.

She turned her head and kissed the corner of Pearce's mouth.

"I should also mention you're not allowed to touch me until after dinner."

"It's hard not to." Pearce turned Wynter around and kissed her on the mouth. She played her hands over Wynter's shoulders, stroked down her arms, and then settled them on her waist. She kissed her slowly, deeply, enjoying the taste and heat of her mouth. She kept her touch light, her body still, not pressing for more than the kiss. When she drew back, Wynter's eyes were cloudy, her neck flushed. "You're very beautiful."

Wynter drew a shuddering breath and placed her hands flat against Pearce's chest, her fingertips resting on her collarbones. "When you say it like that, I believe it."

"Wynter," Pearce murmured. She forced herself to take a step backward, still holding Wynter, but at arm's length--out of kissing range. "We should have dinner."

Despite a surge of disappointment, Wynter nodded, knowing it was what she had asked for. At the moment she couldn't quite remember why. And God, it was hard to think of anything except the heat in Pearce's eyes, the magic in her hands. "Can I just tell you how much I love it when you touch me?"

"No," Pearce said fiercely. "I'm dying here, give me a break."

"Try to hang on," Wynter lifted Pearce's hand from her waist and kissed her knuckles, which still showed signs of bruises, "and I'll try to be good."

Pearce tapped Wynter's chin with her finger. "You could start by trying not to torment me."

Wynter nipped at the end of Pearce's finger. "But I love to watch your eyes get all dark and--"

"Damn it, Wynter. Stop."

Laughing, Wynter moved away and gestured to the chairs. "Sit down. Let's eat this if we're not going to do anything else."

Shaking her head, Pearce settled beside Wynter. "I really am hungry."

"Good," Wynter said as she dished out the food.

Because they were used to eating together at the hospital, they fell into easy conversation about their cases and the upcoming rotations and other residents. Before Pearce realized it, she had cleaned her plate twice. She leaned back from the table with a groan. "God, that was great."

"You're certainly easy to please," Wynter remarked, pleased herself at Pearce's obvious enjoyment. She couldn't remember when doing something so simple for someone else had given her such satisfaction. When she saw the grin tug at the corner of Pearce's mouth, she held up her hand. "Don't start."

"You might regret saying that," Pearce said playfully, catching Wynter's hand. Their fingers entwined and she did not let go. "One of these days when you're crazy for me."

"Pretty sure of yourself."

Pearce looked down at their clasped hands resting on the tabletop.

It looked and felt so natural to be connected to Wynter this way, and at the same time, it was wholly foreign to her. Nothing that had transpired between them was new--she'd kissed women whom she'd known far less well than Wynter, and she'd had quick sexual encounters in dark corners and a few other semipublic places. But she'd never felt the urge to run the way she had last night. She looked up and met Wynter's worried gaze and smiled wryly. "I'm sorry I took off on you last night."

"Why did you?"

"Jesus," Pearce sighed. "Aren't you supposed to say `That's okay, I understand' or something else like that to let me off the hook?"

"Probably. And I would, if it really didn't matter. But it does, and I want to know."

Pearce stretched her legs out under the table and leaned back in the chair, keeping hold of Wynter's hand. With her free hand she fiddled aimlessly with her silverware. "Ten more seconds of kissing you like that--or of you kissing me, rather--and I'd've been fucking you up against the wall. Right there in the middle of that crowd."

"Assuming I would've let you," Wynter said, her voice husky and low.

"Wouldn't you?" There was neither triumph nor self-satisfaction in Pearce's voice, only a quiet certainty.

"Probably. I wanted you so much I wasn't thinking of anything else." Wynter laughed self-consciously. "I don't usually go quite that far in public places."

"No, I didn't think so." Pearce squeezed Wynter's hand. "I don't usually lose it like that, either."

Wynter heard the lingering desire in Pearce's voice, but also the regret, and that frightened her. She couldn't read Pearce well enough to know exactly what bothered her, but she didn't want anything about what they shared to hurt her. "Should I apologize for kissing you like that?"

"Jesus, no." Pearce turned Wynter's hand over between her own and kissed her palm before looking into her eyes. "Did I embarrass you with your sister?"

"No," Wynter said, smiling. "She's dying of curiosity, but she'll live."

Pearce's brows knit together. "Curiosity." Then came understanding, and she blushed. "You mean...she wants details?"

"Of course. That's what girls do when there's a new hotty on the horizon." Wynter couldn't help but laugh at Pearce's obvious discomfort.

It made her all the more charming. "She called this afternoon to give me the third degree."

"Is she upset about you being interested in a woman?"

There, Wynter thought, finally. She edged her chair around the table until she was sitting side by side with Pearce. Turning, she placed her free hand on Pearce's thigh. "She was surprised. Not upset. Pretty much like me."

"She might change her mind when she's had time to think about it."

"Pearce, my sister never really liked Dave, but she never said a word against him until she found out he was fooling around. Then she was all for flying up to New Haven and cutting his balls off."

"Good for her."

Wynter smiled. "She's not going to have a problem with me seeing you."

"What about the rest of your family?"

"You mean my parents?"

Pearce nodded.

"We're Quakers. Personal choice and individual freedoms are very important to us. My parents will support whatever choices I make."

"Sometimes people aren't so liberal when it's close to home."

"I know." Wynter caught a flash of some distant pain in Pearce's eyes. Knowing that Pearce's mother had died when Pearce was still a child, she realized it had to have been her father who'd put that sorrow there. She rubbed her hand up and down Pearce's thigh in unconscious comfort. She was venturing into dangerous territory, considering that Ambrose Rifkin was her boss, and discussing him, even when it was personal like this, was probably not the wisest thing to do. But she didn't care. She only cared about Pearce. "What happened?"

Pearce jerked, startled from the unintended memory. "Let's just say it wasn't a smooth ride for a while."

"Your father was unhappy when he found out you were gay?"

"He ignored it at first. I think he thought it would pass."

"How old were you when he found out?"

"Sixteen."

"When did you know?" Wynter wondered what was wrong with her that she'd never even had an inkling that she could be attracted to another woman. Was she really that out of touch? "I started to think about it when I was twelve or thirteen, and by the time I was fifteen, I knew for sure. One of the nice things about going to a girls' prep is there's a lot of girls around." Pearce grinned.

"Oh, I bet you were dangerous then." Wynter leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Pearce's lips. "I bet you broke a lot of hearts."