LITMIR.BIZ

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and she caught a whiff of its perfume. Roses in the rain, her favorite scent.

      “Where’s your house key?”

      “In my briefcase. If you’ll just put me down, I’ll—”

      “Gresham, get your butt over here and unlock the damned door!”

      She winced. What did he have to be so angry about? She was the one whose life was imploding. Reminding herself that she was a responsible, mature adult and not an hysterical six-year-old, she drew back her head and treated him to her coolest shrink look. “Wouldn’t it be more sensible if you just put me down and let me unlock the damned door?”

      “Probably.” He flicked her an impatient glance. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re still shivering.”

      She hadn’t actually, but she noticed now. Noticed, too, that her head was splitting. Even more annoying for a woman who prided herself on her coping skills, it was becoming a struggle to keep her mind from wandering off on odd little side trips. Like remembering the last time she was smashed up against that muscular chest.

      They’d both been naked and…

      Oh God, don’t think about that now, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. It had taken years—years—before she stopped remembering every touch, every kiss, every fevered word they’d spoken to each other in the heat of passion.

      “Sorry, had to get the rest of the oranges,” Gresham said as he vaulted up the steps. “Sneaky little suckers rolled halfway down the block.”

      Remembering the sodden bags, she started to ask him how he’d managed when she saw the dark blue tote bag slung over a shoulder that wasn’t nearly as broad as Rafe’s. A stalk of celery protruded through the open zipper. Grateful for the distraction, Danni burst out laughing, then winced as pain crashed through her skull.

      Rafe jerked his attention to her face. He’d spent time recently in the sun and the same rays that had burned his tan to a golden bronze had bleached his brows to a tawny hue. “What’s wrong now?” he demanded impatiently.

      “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She sighed. “Even I don’t want to know all the things that are wrong in my life at the moment.”

      His mouth softened, and time seemed to spin backward to the innocent days when she had run to him with all her problems, confident he would make everything better. “Put your head on my shoulder, Daniela,” he commanded in that oddly hoarse voice.

      “No, I’m fine.” But suddenly her eyes were stinging.

      “You always were part mule,” he grated.

      “Like you weren’t,” she muttered, but suddenly her cheek was resting against his shoulder and her eyes were drifting closed. Just for a minute, she told herself firmly. Until her head stopped clanging.

      Vaguely, she was aware of Gresham unlocking the door. She heard the faint creak of the hinges as he entered. She frowned when Rafe didn’t immediately follow. “If you’re waiting for a polite invitation, consider it extended,” she murmured in a voice that seemed oddly slurred.

      “Shut up,” he ordered brusquely.

      Before she could answer, his companion returned. “It’s clear.”

      She blinked. “What’s clear?”

      “Just checking your house for intruders, ma’am,” Gresham said, smiling at her. “All part of the service.”

      Narrowing his gaze, Rafe shot his partner an impatient look. “You want to make sure you got all those canned goods?”

      Gresham’s boyish smile faded. “Yes sir.”

      As Rafe carried her inside with the same loose-jointed stride that could cover twice as much ground as her short legs, Danni roused herself to lift her head. “Okay, we’re inside now. What’s going on? Why are you here?”

      He looked down at her. “To ask you a few questions.”

      “Questions about what?” She stared at that hard shuttered face and felt an inexpressible feeling of loss. Why hadn’t he loved her? she wondered before ruthlessly pulling her mind back to things she could control.

      “Not what. Who. Jonathan Sommerset.”

      She drew in a sharp breath. “Do you know Jonathan?”

      “I know him.”

      Hope flared, and her heart gave a leap. “Do you know where he is?” she asked with a pathetic eagerness she hated, yet couldn’t seem to disguise.

      “No, that’s why we’re here.”

      “I don’t understand.”

      “You will. First you need to get out of those wet things, and I need to make a phone call.” He set her down gently, keeping one hand on the small of her back until she settled firmly on both feet in the center of the square foyer.

      “But—”

      He cast a lazy glance at her sodden suede pumps. “You’re dripping on the rug. Pretty nice rug, too. Looks expensive. Be a shame to ruin it.”

      He was right, damn him. “Then get your big feet off of it!” she shot back before turning around to climb the stairs.

      “Mind if I make some coffee?” he called after her.

      “You lay one hand on anything in this house, and I’ll sue!”

      Chapter 2

      After peeling off her sodden tunic and skirt, Danni couldn’t seem to stop shivering. Even wrapped in her thick terry cloth robe, she felt frozen inside. Deciding a bath would help, she hurried into the bathroom and turned on the hot tap. As soon as the tub was full, she slipped out of the robe and into the steamy water. A blissful sigh escaped her lips as she sank to her chin and closed her eyes.

      In her mind’s eye she pictured a meadow with wildflowers. Nearby, a clear, sun-gilded stream rippled a soothing tune. The sun-warmed water was soothing and soft, bubbling around her bare ankles, and the rocks were smooth under her feet.

      Secure in her safe place now, she took slow, even breaths, filling her lungs with steam-warmed oxygen until she felt her heart rate slowing to a normal rhythm. One by one she relaxed her muscles until the tension drained away. Relaxed and in control once more, she allowed herself to think of the man downstairs.

      His father, Enrique, had been field foreman of Mancini vineyards since before she and Rafe had been born. His mother Rosaria had helped Danni’s mother in the house until Mary Elizabeth Mancini had died of complications a few weeks after Danni’s birth.

      Alone with four children under the age of eight Eduardo Mancini had brought Mary Elizabeth’s spinster sister Gina to Oregon from her home in New Jersey to live in the big house and look after Danni and her three older brothers. With only Rafe to demand her attention then, Rosaria had become housekeeper, cook and, in many ways, Danni’s second mother. It was only natural, she realized now, that she and Rafe—only two years apart—had become playmates.

      Little by little they’d grown up tussling like bear cubs, fighting and making up like all siblings do, going to school together, running through the fields like gypsies during the summers and holidays. Year by year Rafe had gotten taller and stronger, until finally by the age of fifteen he’d towered over everyone but her two big brothers, Eddie and Vito. Little by little his bony shoulders filled out, then thickened with muscle. Naturally athletic, he made both the varsity soccer and football teams his freshman year.

      Danni was changing, too. Finally, after being the ugliest of ugly ducklings, she became a swan—with breasts. Gloriously full, rosy-tipped breasts like all of the Mancini women. She’d also had curvy hips and a tiny waist that was the envy of all her girlfriends.

      The boys in school started noticing. Her brothers began driving her crazy with warnings about the things boys would try to

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