Deep in her heart, in a place that had been empty and cold for so long, a tiny flicker of hope burned brightly. She didn't understand the tingling she felt when Jordan was near or the pleasure she took in his company or the way his kisses and touches had made her feel. She didn't understand anything. She only knew that he was the most wonderful man she'd ever met in her life, and she would have done anything for him.

Jordan reached past her. Mistletoe eyed him mistrustfully, then sniffed his fingers. When she was done, he gently stroked the top of her head. The cat didn't purr, but she didn't pull away, either. After a couple of minutes he rose to his feet.

"Maybe we should let them be," he said, holding out his hand.

She took it and he pulled her up. "You're right. I'm sure she needs to rest."

As they walked through the library, he continued to hold her hand. Holly thought about pointing out the fact, but she liked the feel of him so close to her. When they reached the living room, he paused in front of the fireplace.

"Maybe we should celebrate," he said. "I've got some champagne in the refrigerator."

The only light came from the Christmas tree. She could see the planes of his face, the shape of his body, but the rest of the room disappeared into shadow. They were alone in the house, and she felt as if they were in fact alone in the world. Her stomach tightened nervously.

"I'd like that," she said, and sank down on the thick carpet.

Jordan moved to the fireplace, where he touched a match to the kindling and logs stacked there. The dry tinder caught instantly. By the time he returned with two half-full gla.s.ses, the scent of wood smoke mingled with the piney fragrance of the tree.

He detoured around the back of the sofa and hit a b.u.t.ton on the CD player. After a couple of seconds she heard the opening bars to a familiar Christmas carol. He settled on the floor next to her and held out one of the gla.s.ses.

As she took it, she noticed her fingers trembled. She could barely touch her gla.s.s to his when he proposed a toast. Her throat was tight, her skin both hot and cold, her gaze unable to hold his. The urge to bolt for safety battled with the need to stay and be close to him.

She glanced at the tall tree they had decorated last week, then at the fire. Anywhere but at the handsome man sitting next to her.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right." She shifted until she was sitting cross-legged, then set her champagne on a nearby coffee table.

Jordan frowned. "You don't think you're attractive?"

The question confused her. "I don't think I have to wear a paper bag over my head, if that's what you're asking. But beautiful?" She shook her head. "I'm not like those actresses on television - skinny and sophisticated with perfect makeup."

"I wouldn't think you were beautiful if you were like them." He set his champagne next to hers, then leaned closer. He fingered a strand of her hair. "Soft. Just like I thought it would be." He cupped the back of her head and held her still. "Amazing."

She blinked. He was kidding, right? Or she was dreaming. She wasn't really having this conversation with him. Jordan Haynes, single hunk, didn't really think she was attractive, did he?

"But I have to lose fifteen pounds," she blurted out, then felt herself flush with embarra.s.sment. "I don't have skinny thighs."

He pressed his lips against the side of her neck. "I don't want skinny thighs. You're perfect the way you are."

"But everything is too big." His lips were making her skin tingle, and she was having trouble forming words.

He moved to her earlobe and nibbled on the sensitive skin. "Trust me, Holly. You're built to drive men wild."

She jerked her head back and stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

But he wasn't smiling. His eyes were dark, his expression intense. If she hadn't known him so well, he might have frightened her.

"Jordan?"

"Trust me. Men want you."

He might well have been speaking Russian. "Even you?" she asked without thinking, then could have cheerfully died. Right there on the rug. Instant death. She wouldn't have complained at all.

Unfortunately she continued to live. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Stupid question. I'll just head up to my room and bury my head under the pillows."

But before she could stand, he had his arms around her and was lowering her onto the rug. The fire in his eyes burned hotter and brighter than the one in the hearth.

"Especially me," he said, his voice thick with an emotion she couldn't identify. Then he kissed her.

This time she was prepared for the sensations he evoked. At the first brush of his mouth, her body filled with heat. By the time he got around to testing the seam of her mouth with his lips, she was already weak with longing.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. He was hard muscle and angles to her curves. His long legs brushed against hers.

He tasted her, explored her mouth, teased her until she couldn't catch her breath. She laced her fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands. With her other hand she traced a line down his spine. She could feel the heat of him through his shirt.

Unexpectedly Jordan pulled away. He rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. "d.a.m.n, this is going to hurt."

Holly stared at him. "What's wrong? I thought your back was doing better. Did you overdo it at physical therapy today?"

He gave a weak laugh. "My back is great," he said. "I don't feel a thing ... there."

Then what was hurting? "I don't understand."

"Do you remember the last time we did this?" He dropped his hand to his chest.

She nodded slowly. She remembered every detail of the magic she'd felt in his arms. Some nights she couldn't sleep because she was remembering. Her body got hot, and she felt an odd restlessness.

"When a man wants to make love, his body changes." She knew enough about the process to have figured that part out, but she didn't say anything. She also didn't dare lower her gaze from his face. Was he ... like that? Would she be able to tell?

Jordan sat up and rubbed his hand over his face. "Arousal brings a certain amount of pleasure, which later turns to pain if it's not followed by release. Last time-"

She shot into a sitting position as if she'd been jolted with electricity. Humiliation flooded her. Last time he'd touched her and made her feel those wonderful things, but he'd done nothing for himself.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "You must think I'm a thoughtless, selfish..." Her voice trailed off. She didn't have any words. She'd been a jerk. Or worse.

"Just innocent," he told her. "You didn't know."

"You should have told me. I would have done, well, something!"

"I'm intrigued to imagine what."

She risked glancing at him and saw that he was teasing her. Then his smile faded.

"Holly, you've never seen a man naked. You can't be expected to understand the workings of male anatomy or the details involved in making love."

He had a point. "What if I want to?" she asked without thinking. She flinched in antic.i.p.ation of his rejection, but didn't take the words back.

"See me naked or make love?"