"Oh, baby, please don't cry."

The rough words only made her cry more, and she ended up leaning over a damp box, strangling on sobs.

He came over to pull her into his arms, and she gasped when the motion made her back catch again.

"What's the matter?" he murmured thickly. "What hurts?"

"Just my back. It's fine."

"No, it's not. You must have been down here for hours. I need to get you home."

"But I told Grandmama I'd save all her treasures." Her grandmother had regained consciousness that morning, and she'd even been able to speak. One of the first things she thought of was all the boxes in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"I'll get some guys over here right away to take care of it." He was stroking her hair. "Why didn't you ask me earlier?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

She managed the energy to glare up at him. "Why do you always insist on contradicting me?"

"Because you never tell me the truth."

"I do too."

He shook his head slowly. "Not the whole truth. And I want the whole truth from you."

The words disturbed her-deeply. There was no way she could tell him the whole truth, or she'd have to admit that her feelings for him had-quite unwisely-gone far behind the nature of a six-month marriage, no matter how hard she'd tried to keep them under control. "Well, I wanted to do it myself so I'd have something to do. Something where I felt like I was helping."

"That's what I thought."

She frowned. "If you already knew, then why did you ask?"

"Because I wanted you to tell me."

There was a fond expression in his eyes that was as disturbing as his words, so she pulled away, rubbing her face and then reaching around to rub her back.

"I need to call to see how Grandmama is doing," she said.

"I just called and talked to Kelly. She's been sleeping. She's doing fine. There's nothing you can do right now, so I'm taking you home so you can rest."

"I'd rather-"

"I really don't care what you'd rather do."

She sucked in an indignant breath but didn't have energy to argue. She trudged up the stairs in front of him and then went to his car and climbed in the front seat. As he drove them home, he called up someone to arrange for a crew to get down to the bas.e.m.e.nt to clean it up and save as many of the treasures as possible.

She didn't have the energy to talk, even after he'd hung up, so she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Her head was spinning, though, and occasionally she'd jerk with a surge of something akin to panic.

Every time she did, she'd glance over and see that Mitch.e.l.l was watching her in obvious concern.

It was almost embarra.s.sing, and there was no way to explain the strange behavior, so she just didn't try.

They finally made it home, and he walked around the car to help her out, even though she could have managed on her own.

She wasn't used to being taken care of like this. She wasn't used to being taken care of at all.

Everyone had always looked to her to take care of things.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, when they were standing in the entryway. It was only yesterday they were standing here, in the exact same place, and he'd grabbed her into a deep kiss.

She shook her head. "I just want to take a shower."

"Okay."

They walked to her suite, and he went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. When it looked like he was lingering, she pushed him out and closed the door behind him. She took off her clothes and got under the hot water, and for some reason the hot spray caused her to release the building tension, and she sobbed quietly under the shower.

She had no idea what was wrong with her. She was never like this.

She felt a little better, though, after she'd soaped up, rinsed, and gotten control of herself again. She turned off the water and toweled herself dry, pulling on the tank top and pajama pants she'd been wearing the other night that had been left in the bathroom.

She towel-dried her hair as best as possible, and then just pulled it into one long braid so it wouldn't get everything wet.

Mitch.e.l.l was waiting in the bedroom, sitting in a chair, staring worriedly down at the floor.

Her heart was touched at the sight. "I'm fine," she said gently. "I'll just rest some. You can go back to work if you need to or-" She gasped when she moved the wrong way and her back caught again.

It hurt so much she felt the blood drain from her face. She'd thought the shower would help it, but evidently not.

Mitch.e.l.l's lips tightened as he stood up, but he didn't say anything, which was a relief. She wasn't sure she was able to take another lecture.

He came over to help her walk to the bed, although she would have been okay on her own. "Is it your lower back?" he asked.

"Yeah. I guess I was just bent over for too long. It will be fine once I rest it."

He helped her lower herself onto the bed, and then he turned her over on her stomach. She felt helpless and vulnerable so she resisted. "Mitch.e.l.l, I said I'm-"

"You're not fine," he muttered. "So, for once, stop being stubborn. I'm not going to hurt you."

Stupidly-so stupidly-she felt on the verge of tears again. "I didn't think you were going to hurt me," she began, feeling like he wasn't understanding her at all. "I just-"

"Shh." He gently adjusted her again so she was on her stomach and started rubbing his hands up and down her back over her clothes. "You don't have to explain."

"But-"

"The longer you distract me by trying to argue, the longer I'm going to stay." His voice was perfectly composed.

The words silenced her, since she was feeling so deep and emotional that she thought it best that he get out as soon as possible. Who knew what she would say or do otherwise?"

She let him rub her back gently for a minute, and then he started to focus a ma.s.sage on her lower back, right where the muscles were catching. It felt incredibly good in a painful sort of way, and she tried to make herself relax instead of resisting.

He didn't speak at all, which was a relief. Just kneaded his strong fingers into her flesh until she couldn't help but groan.

Then his hands moved higher, and he ma.s.saged her neck and shoulders until she was moaning even more.

"That's good," she gasped, when her body was so relaxed it started responding in an inappropriate way to his touch and the strong presence of him behind her. "Thank you. I feel a lot better."

"Shh." He didn't stop, sliding his hands down to stroke her bottom and thighs.

A tension had tightened between her legs-a familiar pressure that was entirely wrong for the circ.u.mstances. He wasn't coming on to her. He was trying to take care of her. She had no idea why her body had quite foolishly misinterpreted the stimulus.

To her relief, his hands finally moved from her bottom and slid up again to her neck until he started to ma.s.sage her scalp through her hair. That should have been better-less intimate and sensual-but it wasn't.

She was groaning almost helplessly and had to keep her eyes closed in embarra.s.sment, as arousal kept pulsing between her legs.

"Mitch.e.l.l," she gasped at last. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" His voice was thick and rough.

"Please stop."

"Why?" He stroked his fingertips down the bare skin of her neck, making her shiver and clench.

"Because I...I..." She was mortified by her reaction, by what he would think of it.

"Aren't you enjoying it?"

"Yes." She gasped far too loud when she felt his hands on her lower back again. Even through her clothes, it felt like s.e.x. "Too...too much."

She felt something shift in his presence, like he'd processed what she meant. Then he was turning her over onto her back so she could no longer hide her face from him.

"Mitch.e.l.l," she began, her voice cracking and her cheeks hotly flushed.

His face, his eyes, were so tender it took her breath away. She was gazing up at him as his head lowered into a kiss.

She felt boneless, completely exhausted, so she could only respond with her mouth, her lips clinging to his as he brushed them against her so gently.

He was still kissing her-nothing too deep or urgent-when she felt his fingers at her belly, then the waistband of her pants.

She tried to say something but couldn't manage it, too distracted by the kiss.

So she wasn't resisting as his hand slid beneath her underwear to feel between her legs. Her whole body tightened as she felt his finger rubbing her c.l.i.t, but his touch was so natural, so soothing, that she almost immediately relaxed.

He kept kissing her as he stroked her intimately, bringing her to climax with his fingers and then sustaining the ma.s.sage until she came again and then again. She couldn't seem to stop it-her body was completely out of her control, like she'd released every piece of her resistance.

Tears were streaming from her eyes as she came yet again, her body tightened briefly with the pleasure but then uncoiling in lingering waves that saturated her completely.

"Enough," she gasped, finally pulling her mouth away from him. "I don't think I can...can take any more."

"Okay." He pressed one more soft kiss on her lips. "Do you feel better?"

"Yes. So good. So good." Each word was a helpless sigh.

"Good."

She was suddenly conscious that his body was desperately tight. He was obviously deeply aroused himself, and he hadn't yet had any release. She reached for his groin almost blindly, so tired she could barely move. "Now we can-"

He moved her hands from his pants. "Not now."

"But-"

"That was for you. You're too tired for anything else." He didn't sound annoyed or frustrated. He still sounded gentle, almost fond.

"But you didn't-"

"I'm not going to fall apart. It wasn't about me. I wanted to do that for you."

He seemed to mean it, and she didn't have the energy to argue anyway. She was so deeply relaxed in almost every way she couldn't keep her eyes open.

"Thank you," she managed to mumble, nestling against his side, under his arm, where it felt warm and safe. "Thank you."

She felt him press a few kisses against her hair just before she fell asleep. "You're welcome, baby."

Ten.

Deanna woke up with a tight, deep feeling in her chest-a feeling she immediately recognized as an overly full heart.

She was still in bed, and Mitch.e.l.l was still beside her. He was sound asleep.

She rolled over on her side so she could see him without turning her head, and she just watched him for a few minutes. He had one arm resting on his belly and the other was clenched in the covers. His brown hair was a mess-just a little too long-and his eyelashes looked very dark against his skin.

He was still handsome. He was never anything but handsome. But he looked different to her than he usually did. She noticed the wrinkles on his shirt, the way his trousers were hiked up over one calf, the way the hair on his arm looked ruffled rather than lying neatly over his skin.

He felt like a real man-not a handsome stranger, a powerful personality, or a s.e.x G.o.d. A human being not all that different than her.

She felt a force of yearning toward him that she'd never experienced before, like she wanted him in every way, like she could see a life with him spreading out before her like a road.

It should have scared her, but the feeling was too consuming to share s.p.a.ce in her mind and heart with any other feeling. She reached out toward him, absolutely incapable of resisting the compulsion.

He opened his eyes when she touched his chest, and their eyes met across the short distance between them.