He couldn't let that happen. Not now. Not like this.

He gripped the steering wheel, d.a.m.ning his self-control. He was forty-two, not fourteen. And he knew better.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing. I just ... we..." He paused, took another breath. "We're behaving like a couple of kids."

"We're allowed. Besides, I'm leaving in the morning."

He gazed at the front of her rumpled dress. It would be so easy to pull her onto his lap and rub himself against her. So easy to let the volcano erupt.

"Come to my room, Bobby. Stay with me tonight."

He lifted his gaze. Oh, G.o.d. Dear G.o.d.

He wanted to. So help him, he did.

But he couldn't. If he undressed, she would see him. His cone-shaped stump and the prosthesis attached to it.

And if she didn't cringe and turn away, she would ask questions he couldn't bear to answer.

Questions about the night he'd lost his leg. The night he'd killed his wife.

"Julianne." He looked into her eyes, did his d.a.m.nedest to pretend he was refusing for her sake. "It's not a good idea. You barely know me."

She blinked and grabbed the front of her dress, b.u.t.toning it hastily. "I didn't ... I don't usually..." Her voice disintegrated, as fragile as a winter leaf. "You're right. I should have known better."

She reached for the door handle. He knew he should stop her, but he let her tear off instead, rush from his truck and run into the lodge.

Realizing he'd put the burden on her, Bobby dropped his head in his hands and cursed the coward he'd become.

* * * Julianne fumbled with the card-key and then burst into tears. Shifting her purse, her jacket and the white rose, she entered her room.

She'd embarra.s.sed herself, inviting Bobby to her bed, putting him in a position to spurn her advances. So he'd given her a birthday gift, flirted with her, messed around a little in the car. That didn't mean he wanted to sleep with her. She paced the empty room for a minute, unsure of what to do, of how to combat her shame. Finally she unb.u.t.toned her dress and dropped the garment to the floor. Standing in front of the minor, she studied her appearance. The sheer bustier, the thigh-high hose, the wispy panties. Suddenly she felt foolish. And ugly. So very ugly. A forty-year-old pretending to be s.e.xy. She removed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. No wonder Bobby had turned her down. She didn't have what it took to seduce a tall, stunning cowboy. He probably had younger, prettier women falling at his feet. A knock sounded at the door and Julianne jumped up and grabbed her robe. It must be her cousins, coming by to comfort her. No doubt they'd heard her crying.

She dried her tears and belted the robe. Mern and Kay had seen her in the bustier when she'd purchased it, but she didn't want them to know how ridiculous she looked in it now. She opened the door and froze. Bobby stood on the other side, but from the expression on his face, she knew he hadn't changed his mind.

He'd come to apologize, she thought. To make excuses, to tell her, as kindly as possible, that she was bound to find the right lover someday. That she wouldn't be alone forever. Somehow, that was even more embarra.s.sing.

"May I come in?" he asked.

She tightened her robe and stepped away from the door. She had no choice but to let him say his piece. If she sent him away, she would seem like an even bigger fool. He walked in and glanced at her dress, which still lay on the floor in front of the mirror. Mortified, Julianne grabbed it and tossed it on the bed. "Would you like to sit down?" He shook his head and they stood for a moment, silence stretching between them. Julianne fidgeted with the bracelet he'd given her and then realized what she was doing. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I understand, Bobby. You don't have to explain."

"Yes, I do."

He smoothed a hand through the front of his hair. A few strands had come loose from the braid.

Although she could see the gray at his temples, he didn't look old. He looked dark and masculine and much too handsome.

"This isn't your fault, Julianne."

"Yes, it is. I'm the one who asked you to be with me."

"And I'm flattered, more than you can know. But I don't have affairs." He paused, smoothed his hair again. "I haven't made love in over three years."

She glanced at the ring on his ringer. "Since your wife died?" He nodded and she couldn't help but wonder about the woman he'd married, who she was, how he'd met her. "I haven't been with anyone since the divorce. It's been two years for me." "I know. I mean, that's what I figured. You already told me you haven't dated." He jammed his hands into his pockets, blew out an audible breath. "But my situation is different from yours. Spontaneouss.e.x, or s.e.x in general, I suppose, is awkward for me."

"It's awkward for me, too. I married Joe when I was eighteen, fresh out of high school. He's the only lover I've ever had." And their s.e.x life hadn't been all that great, especially at the end. "Maybe so, but it's still not the same. I'm an amputee, Julianne. Most of my left leg is gone, and what remains of it isn't a very pretty sight." She tried not to stare, to seem as shocked as she was. Suddenly she didn't know where to look, what to say, how to react. She'd never known anyone with a disability. "I weara prosthesis ," he said. Julianne nodded. Just recently she'd seen a picture in a magazine, an ad for running shoes, with a Paralympics contender wearing a metallic limb. Is that what Bobby had? Or was his prosthesis covered with some sort of plastic or simulated skin? "I don't need adaptive equipment in my truck because I can use my right leg to brake and accelerate, the way anyone driving an automatic would do," he explained. "But I've had to make some adjustments on horseback."

"Like mounting on the opposite side?" she asked, realizing it was the first question she'd managed since he'd told her. The first words she'd spoken. He removed his hands from his pockets. "Yeah." "It doesn't matter," she said. When he frowned, she wanted to kick herself. "I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I meant it."

He shrugged. "You don't have to apologize. I know it makes people uncomfortable."

Yes, she thought. She was uncomfortable. But only because she wasn't sure if she should tell him that

she still thought he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever met.

"When did it happen?" she asked.

"Three years ago. In a car accident."

Julianne closed her eyes, opened them. "Is that how your wife died?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Bobby." She started to move toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her.

"Don't do that. Don't pity me."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's not pity. It's compa.s.sion."

"I didn't come here looking for compa.s.sion. And I certainly don't want to talk about my wife." He

glanced at her bed. "You have the right to know why I turned you down. And that's why I'm telling you all of this."

"So you really wanted to be with me?" she asked, moving a little closer.

He shifted his gaze, allowed his eyes to meet hers. "Yes."

She took a breath, drawing courage with it. "Then be with me. Don't let tonight end without us making love."

He made a frustrated expression. "Don't you get it? I'm not comfortable taking my clothes off in front of you, Julianne."

She stood her ground. "Then don't remove them. Don't undress all the way."

He came forward, but he didn't stop until they were nearly face-to-face. "What am I supposed to do?

Just shove you against the wall and unzip my pants?"

She knew he was being sarcastic, but it didn't matter. She didn't want to lose him. "You don't have to shove me anywhere. I'll go willingly."

He took her hand, pushed it against his fly. "Are you going to unzip my pants, too?"

Her fingers sc.r.a.ped his zipper. "If you want me to."

He made a rough, tortured sound. A masculine groan. And then he kissed her. So hard he took her breath away.

Their teeth sc.r.a.ped, their tongues dived. She gripped his shoulders; he cupped her bottom and rubbed her against the front of his jeans.

When he stepped back, his eyes were dark and intense. "I want to see what you have on under your robe." Suddenly her insecurity surfaced, her fear of not being pretty enough, of trying to appear s.e.xy. "It's the same thing I had on under my dress. The black lace."

"Show me." "Can I dim the lights?" "No." "Bobby, don't be that way." "Why not? You started this." Fine, she thought.Fine . She lifted her chin and dropped her robe. "See? Black lace." He grinned and she wanted to throw her temper at him. But she didn't. Because his grin was too d.a.m.n boyish. Too d.a.m.n cute for a man his age.

"I've had fantasies about that skimpy little outfit."

"You have not."

"Oh, yes, I have. Ever since it got caught under my boot." He stopped grinning. "You look incredible.

More beautiful than I'd imagined."

"Really?"

Instead of responding he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. Before she could take a breath, he

attacked her bustier, tugging at the padded cups, freeing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, sliding his hands down her legs,

unhooking the garters. Julianne grabbed the front of his shirt and lifted it from his pants. She bared his chest and sc.r.a.ped a finger down his stomach. He had a sprinkling of hair leading to his zipper.

Together, they undid his jeans. He was hard and thick and generously aroused. She stroked him, making moisture seep at the tip. He backed her against the dresser and lifted her onto it. She opened her legs and watched him slip his hand down the front of her panties.

He rubbed her, slowly, steadily, until she pressed against his fingers and sucked his tongue into her mouth. They both went a little crazy, kissing and licking, nibbling and biting. But Julianne didn't care. All she wanted was this moment.

This man.

When he pulled her panties down, she recalled the condoms she'd stuffed in the top drawer. But she decided not to say anything, not to bother with a hindrance that didn't matter anymore. Bobby hadn't been s.e.xually active in years and neither had she. They didn't need protection, not even from conception.

He adjusted his jeans, pushing them down, just enough to make penetration easier. She raised her hips and as he thrust into her, they both cried out.

From the longing.

From the hunger.

From the hard, hot, mind-numbing motion.

He withdrew and entered her again, heightening the feeling, the fast, driving rhythm. She bit down on her lip and he kissed her, his tongue mimicking their lovemaking.

Desperate s.e.x, a craving to mate. Two people who barely knew each other, taking pleasure in the forbidden. In a one-night stand. In b.u.mping and grinding and moaning in each other's arms.

Wetter. Harder. Deeper.

Something exploded in front of Julianne's eyes. Stars. Fireworks. A sensation so intense, she went over the edge, digging her nails into his skin.

He kept kissing her, kept thrusting deeper,pushing toward his own climax. And when it happened, he spilled into her, leaving her dizzy and breathless.

A minute pa.s.sed. Then another.

They looked at each other, neither quite knowing what to say.

He stepped back and fiddled with his jeans, zipping himself back into them.

While he b.u.t.toned his shirt, she spotted her robe on the floor and reached for it. She couldn't invite him to stay, to climb into the shower with her, to cuddle until dawn.

He wouldn't strip in front of her, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to. Not now, not during this awkward lull. She wasn't ready to view his amputated leg and he wasn't ready to show her.

Nor would he ever be. After tonight, they would never see each other again.

"Are you all packed?" he asked.

She nodded. "Pretty much."