LITMIR.BIZ

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her like that, in a long, lazy joining, and again in the predawn quiet when the pace was slow and sensuous with enough time to recognize his earlier bout of fear for what it was.

      Not performance anxiety or any sense of disloyalty to the wife he still loved, but fear that he would enjoy this—enjoy her—so much that he would never want it to end. That he’d want to twist his fingers into her chain and drag her mouth down to his, to swallow her cries of release whole and absorb them into his body.

      That he would want this to go on and on and never end.

      Angie woke to the glare of morning sun streaming through the window and the low sound of conversation. Frowning slightly, she pushed up on her elbows and strained her ears. Not the TV she realized, shoving her hair back from her face, but real voices in the adjoining room. Before she had a chance to identify words out of the indistinguishable drone, her attention diverted to the scent of food and her nose twitched and her stomach growled. Between no dinner and the…um…strenuous night, she was famished.

      As she swung her legs out of bed she stretched her arms and back. And winced. Oh, yes, it had, indeed, been a most strenuous night. Satisfying in many ways, promising in many ways, even if she hated the many times he’d refused to meet her gaze, the times he’d chosen the darkness of closed eyes over the emotional connection of their joining.

      Even if the notion that he’d needed to wash the scent of their lovemaking from his body still rubbed raw against her heart.

      Slowly she started for the same bathroom. Vaguely she realized that the voices had stopped, and when she heard the thump of a door closing, she stopped dead. Surely he wouldn’t just leave? Surely. But her heart shifted with uncomfortable doubt as she resumed her trip toward the bathroom. Just shy of the door, a sixth sense made her swing her gaze back…and there he was, standing in the doorway between bedroom and sitting-room, watching her.

      He, she noticed immediately, was dressed. Unlike her. Ridiculous, after all they’d done in the night, to feel so exposed. He’d seen pretty much everything, from much closer than the width of a hotel bedroom.

      “I ordered breakfast,” he said evenly.

      A good start, she thought. Excellent really, since she would have bet on much awkwardness this morning.

      “I’m famished, but I just need a quick shower before I eat.” She smiled broadly, in appreciation of him ordering breakfast, and still being here to share it. “Will you save me something?”

      “I’ve already eaten. With Rafe.”

      Angie stiffened. That explained the other voice. Yet…“You invited your brother to breakfast?”

      “He invited himself.”

      Aah, now that made more sense. And explained the closing door.

      “Does he know…?” She gestured between them, indicating the meaning she couldn’t put into words. That I’m here, in your bedroom, naked?

      “No, and that’s the way I’d prefer we kept it.” He shifted his weight from one booted foot to the other. “Look, I just rang the airport. My pilot’s ready to go. I have to get moving.”

      “Well, I’ll have my shower and breakfast and go straight down to work, I expect.” She managed a carefree shrug, but since she was standing naked in the full morning light, she couldn’t quite bring herself to stroll over and casually kiss him goodbye. Which is the comeback she would have liked, to prove that though her heart had just taken a plummeting nosedive, she could handle this. He’d told her not to expect too much. She knew this would be a long haul, this getting past his hurt and distance to the man inside.

      Last night she’d taken the first step, and that was only the start.

      Despite his gotta-go message, he still hadn’t moved from the doorway, however, and Angie discerned he had more to say. Ever helpful, she raised her eyebrows, inviting him to spit it out.

      “Call me,” he said, “as soon as you know something.”

      “You’ll be the first to know.”

      He nodded stiffly.

      And Angie couldn’t help herself, the words just kind of bubbled out. “Do you think I will have to call? Do you think last night was a success?”

      Which, in retrospect, was a ridiculous thing to ask. She’d read the literature. Even at the right time of month, with all the planets in alignment and karma beaming down from the stars, a certain percentage of women didn’t conceive. It wasn’t as if she’d ever tried before. She didn’t know, for sure, that she was the perfect candidate she’d promoted herself as the night before.

      And her ridiculous questions had obviously made Tomas as uncomfortable as a ringer with a burr in his swag, because now he couldn’t meet her eyes. He stared toward the window and beyond, his expression so tricky and unreadable that she longed to climb inside his head.

      “If you are—” his gaze shifted back to her face “—will you want to keep working?”

      “I told you. My job here is temporary.”

      “You know Rafe will give you another job at the drop of a hat. Alex, too.”

      “And what about you? Do you have a job for me on Kameruka Downs?”

      His eyes narrowed. “You’re joking.”

      “Why would you think that?”

      “Because I wouldn’t—” He stopped abruptly, lips a tight line.

      “Because you don’t want me around?”

      “Because there’s no job for you there.”

      The pain she felt was, no doubt, her heart bottoming out of that slow-fall plummet with a sickening crash. “I’ll let you know the result, once I know,” she said, painfully aware that she was still standing here, having this momentous conversation, stark naked.

      Tomas started to turn, paused. “Angie…thank you.”

       For being such a sport? For not pushing the job issue? For not making this morning-after a train wreck?

      It was her turn to nod tightly. “You’re welcome.”

      And then he was gone, probably bolting as fast as his boots would take him, to the airport and the company plane that would transport him back to his territory.

      Kameruka Downs, where she was no longer welcome.

      Seven

      For two weeks Angie hummed through life in a cheerful glow of hopefulness. When she closed the door on that hotel suite—after an indulgently long shower and an extravagantly big breakfast—she closed the door on all doubts and despondency. She left them there in the dark, shut away from the shining light of her optimism.

      Only sex? Bull! She’d felt the connection, the specialness, the rightness of their lovemaking.

      As for Tomas…well, she could make allowances. He’d been even more nervous than Angie, and he didn’t have the crutch of a lifetime of fantasies for support. She’d seriously unsettled him with that revelation, and she’d unnerved him more with the emotion she couldn’t completely contain when they’d finally come together.

      Plus, in his own words, it had been a while.

      Her mind had drifted back to that comment with vex-

      ing regularity. A while, as in, not since Brooke? Could he have been celibate that long?

      Knowing Tomas…yes. Because that’s how he would honor his vows, yet that thought caused a churning storm of conflict in Angie. The very qualities that drew her to this man—his steadfastness, his loyalty, his constancy and conviction—could also be the downfall of any hope of a future with him.

      He loved Brooke. He probably

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