Just her luck, the juice carton was nearly empty. Her hands shaking, she poured two large glasses of ice water. She dug half a dozen cookies from the canister on the counter, handed them to him with a wad of napkins, and nodded toward the back door. "Go on out. I'll be right there."

The moment Tom left the house, Hannah combed her fingers through her hair, straightened her oversized T-shirt, and picked up their drinks. On her way through the open door, she slammed into Tom who stood there staring at the lawn, his jaw hanging.

Hannah peered past him to see what held him so enthralled.

Her mother lay sunbathing on a blanket, wearing only a bikini bottom that could double as a pirate's eye patch.

Oh, Lord. When had she shown up?

"It's about time you got home." Candace sat up. Upon noticing Tom, she thrust out her perfect, naked breasts. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your hunky friend?"

"Would you put something on, already!"

Tom's gaze never wavered from Candace's chest while his mouth continued gaping.

"They're just breasts, Hannah." Her mother stood and scooped up her miniscule bikini top. "Even you have them. Not that anyone would notice your knockers under those sacks you wear."

Candace sauntered up the deck's steps, tying the thin tricot postage stamps over her swollen nipples, which did practically nothing to hide them. She stared pointedly at the prominent bulge in Tom's fly. "Besides, I'd bet the check from my next photo shoot your friend's already seen a lot more a dozen times in Playboy."

Mortified, Hannah squeezed her eyes shut. Forgetting she held two full glasses of water, she promptly sloshed them down the front of Tom.

"Hannah! Watch what you're doing!" Her mother grabbed the napkins from Tom's hand and knelt in front of him. While Candace went through the pretense of drying him, the boy's eyes rolled back. One swipe over his zipper would've been bad enough, but she couldn't quit while Hannah still had a prayer of being able to face the kids at school again.

Seven or eight strokes later, Tom's shoulders shuddered and a look of utter humiliation flashed across his face. "Uhh-I gotta go," he croaked, dropping the cookies on the deck. He turned and broke the high school's record for the 20-meter dash through the back gate.

As she finished relating the story, Hannah glanced up at Diana. "And do you know what the bitch said after he left? 'Ooops. You weren't looking to get lucky with him, were you?'"

"Ouch." The compassion in Diana's eyes encouraged her to continue.

"I wanted to die later that week when three of Tom's track buddies asked if I'd tutor them. I've never known whether a guy liked me or just wanted a chance to meet Candace."

After growing up in the same small town as her mother had, everyone knew about Hannah's illegitimate roots.

"All my life, people have compared me to my mother and made snide comments about my figure. But that wasn't the only thing that made me self-conscious. I developed a lot younger than most girls. By the time I turned thirteen, I already wore a C-cup."

Diana's eyebrows lifted. "I bet that got you lots of unwanted attention."

She had no idea. "It didn't help that the boys were passing my mother's pictures around school. Every time I got too close....well, you know what adolescent boys are like."

She hadn't been able to walk down a crowded hallway at school without some creep copping a feel.

"So that's when you started camouflaging your figure with baggy clothes," Diana deduced accurately.

"They stopped paying attention to me after that."

"So you think your mother's prurient lifestyle had something to do with you keeping guys at a distance?"

"Well, yeeeah." She didn't need a psychologist to tell her that.

"Therefore, you needed to prove you were different."

"Maybe." As a young girl she'd been mortified by her mother's sexcapades. "I don't tell many people we're related. She doesn't want the world to know she's old enough to have a daughter my age, and I don't want anyone assuming I'm like her."

"And hiding how attractive you are and repressing your sexuality ensures no one thinks that?"

"I guess." Hannah shrugged one shoulder. "But I'm so self-conscious in bed, I can't even enjoy sex. I'll never get married if men don't ask me out."

"I'm sure they would if you'd stop passing yourself off as an old maid. You'd be gorgeous if you wore your hair down and put on a little more makeup. Callie tells me you have a bombshell figure. Get some clothes that show off your curves instead of hiding them."

"I tried that once while I was attending the community college. A girlfriend talked me into wearing one of her bikinis when a group of us decided to cut class and go to the shore."

"And?"

"All the guys who never noticed me before suddenly wanted to be my best friend. Except they weren't interested in talking to me-they just wanted to stare at my boobs."

"Big surprise there. Face it, Hannah, nineteen-year-old guys are as shallow as puddles."

She laughed without humor. "And as a nineteen-year-old virgin, I was as gullible as a kid who believes in a Tooth Fairy."

Diana's gaze narrowed. "I'm guessing one disillusioned you?"

"You could say that. After dark, I stupidly went for a walk on the beach with a boy I liked. The sad part was, Eric was a total hunk, so I probably would've willingly slept with him if he had asked me out a few times."

"Please don't tell me he raped-"

"He tried." Hannah could almost taste the sour bile that had risen in her throat that night. "He stopped to kiss me, and the next thing I knew he pushed me down in the sand, yanked off my bathing suit top, and used it to tie my wrists to the leg of a lifeguard stand. Then he stripped off my bikini bottom and shoved it into my mouth as a gag."

Diana remained silent, watching Hannah mentally relive the horrific experience. In her panic, she'd nearly choked on the sand. Something in her expression apparently caused the therapist's mouth to tighten. Diana finally spoke. "From the mortified look on your face, I'm sensing he managed to force a physical response from you."

Hannah swallowed hard, recalling her shame when licked and sucked both of her nipples, while fondling her non-stop. His tongue's eager lapping simply intensified the unrelenting pulsing inside her, turning the river of tears streaming down her cheeks into barely a trickle compared to the hot flood gushing from between her legs.

When she didn't deny the therapist's perceptive assumption, Diana squeezed her hand. "It's okay if your body responded, Hannah. A person's nerve endings can't differentiate between the sensation caused by a lover or a rapist. Some women even climax while they're being raped. Especially in cases where the attacker doesn't cause the victim physical pain. But it doesn't mean the woman is enjoying it."

Hannah had felt what she suspected was the beginning of an orgasm, which she'd never gotten close to since. From that time on, she'd felt like a deviant, wondering if Eric had been right and she'd in some unspoken way asked for what he'd done to her.

"When a woman climaxes during molestation, it doesn't mean she wants to be violated," Diana repeated.

Hannah closed her eyes and whispered, "He didn't believe that. Apparently, since I got so wet, he didn't consider it rape. While I kept fighting to free myself, Eric pulled down his trunks and then shoved my legs apart. He said, 'You know you want this. You can't jiggle your tits at me all day and not put out.'"

Just thinking of Eric shoving his angry-looking erection inside her had generated an extra burst of adrenaline in her.

"At that point, I managed to yank my wrists free of his knot and ripped the gag out of my mouth. After I screamed as loud as I could, he heard a group running down the beach and took off."

"Thank God." Diana heaved her relief. "I hear way too many date-rape stories that don't end as well as yours."

"Gee, that's reassuring."

"I know the experience spooked you, Hannah, but you're not dealing with testosterone-crazed teenagers any longer. Most men respect a woman's right to refuse sex."

"I know. I want men to notice me. I'm really not afraid of being attacked again. I mean, Eric never actually hurt me."

"Maybe not physically. But he did traumatize you and probably left you with a subconscious fear. It's probably why you're uncomfortable around men you're sexually attracted to. In the past, our patriarchal society taught us females were responsible for controlling men's libidos. If a woman didn't hide her feminine attributes she was considered a tease or a slut."

Her grandfather had certainly had that attitude toward Candace posing nude.

"Deep down, I think you may have bought into that archaic lie and feel a little guilty. Especially after that boy kept saying you wanted it-or worse, insinuated you asked for it. Letting him see how well-endowed you were, was not an invitation to be molested."

Hannah shrugged. "Maybe I do feel a little responsible." She was definitely plagued by shame over her body's response to her sexual assault.

"Regardless of what a woman wears, no still means no, Hannah. You don't need to be self-conscious of your figure and sex appeal. Women pay plastic surgeons millions of dollars each year to make their bodies look exactly like yours."

"Well, they're crazy." She cupped her breasts and lifted them. "Why any woman would want all this hanging on her chest is a mystery to me."

"Have you considered reduction surgery?"

"A hundred times. But I can't really afford it. My breasts aren't quite large enough to cause any real physical problem, so the insurance company considers it cosmetic surgery."

"So, if that's not an option, we need to make you see what everyone else sees-that your breasts are lush and sexy. You have a beautiful, voluptuous body any man would have to be blind not to appreciate. Letting the world see how physically attractive you are does not make you immoral or a tease. Now, I want you to lie down and let your body go completely limp."

In a calm soothing monotone, Diana guided her through a session of relaxation exercises, concentrating on each individual muscle group. When Hannah felt as if she were floating, Diana told her to imagine she was descending a long set of stairs to the basement of her subconscious.

"We're going to dump all those negative memories and criticisms from your past into a giant trash can and slam the lid on it. From now on, you'll only think about those things when you consciously decide to."

Hannah mentally heaved all her hurts and embarrassment into the trash.

"Now that you've rid yourself of all your shame, you can feel proud of the curvy figure nature gave you. Envision yourself naked in a room of mirrors. Slowly turn around and study yourself from every angle. Look at your body the way you would a work of art in a museum."

She pictured herself as a marble nude statue of Aphrodite. Almost as if Diana could read her thoughts, she continued, "But unlike a woman of cold hard stone, you're soft and warm. Notice how beautiful your lush form is. From now on, you'll take pride in your full breasts and tiny waist.

"Revel in the power your shape has over the opposite sex. Enjoy your femininity. You have no reason to feel self-conscious or guilty about making yourself attractive to men. You're free to enjoy the attention they'll pay you when you expose your figure to the world. You have no reason to squash your sexual desire. You'll let yourself experience the ecstasy in a man's touch and the pleasure his body can give you. Your arousal will only excite you more. You'll never again be embarrassed by or ashamed of your sexual desire."

Diana then instructed Hannah to mentally run her hands over her naked body and appreciate its curves. "Now, imagine a man you're attracted to is standing behind you. Your hands will become his. Hear him tell you how beautiful you are while he caresses you. Watch in the mirror and notice how much seeing and touching your naked body excites him."

Hannah summoned up her fantasy man, and her nipples tingled. Curiously enough, it wasn't Kevin's features in her mind's eye. In place of the guy she'd thought she loved, Jordan appeared behind her-also gloriously naked. He became her dream lover, stroking and kissing her while he whispered how sexy she was.

Her body flushed with heat, her lower half turning moist while he cupped her breasts from behind and tweaked her nipples until they pebbled between his fingers. The void between her legs throbbed, making her squirm from how slick she'd become. She'd never wanted a man to make love to her so much in her life. His thick erection pressed against her back-rigid, hot, and ready to please her. She wanted him thrusting inside her.

"Watch your lover's face in the mirror and see the intense yearning for you in his eyes," Diana instructed.

Hannah's imagination took it one step further, picturing Jordan lifting her and pressing her back against the cool glass. He plunged himself inside her, rubbing against her swollen nub faster and harder every moment, pounding into her, drenching her as she rode his shaft toward an elusive peak.

"In a moment, I'm going to count to five," Diana said softly. "When I reach the number five you're going to wake up and feel fully refreshed."

No! Not yet. She wasn't ready.

"From now on, you're going to relax around men, and you're going to speak your mind to them. You'll feel completely at ease in taking the initiative in your relationships and letting your sexual inhibitions go."

No, darn it. Jordan had gotten her so excited her panties were soaked. She hadn't been this close to an orgasm since Eric had forced her body to respond. She ached to come apart in a lover's arms.

"One, two, three, four....five."

Jordan trudged toward the executive suite on Thursday morning, his brain pounding out a slow rendition of Wipeout. He never should've let Bridget talk him into spending the night at her place. An evening in her bed invariably resulted in no sleep.

It had been at least ten years since he'd had that much trouble achieving release. For a solid thirty minutes, the sultry brunette had licked and stroked him, oohing and ahhing about how magnificent his penis was and taking it as a personal insult when he failed to orgasm from her skillful hummer.

By the time Bridget finally gave up tormenting him and climbed onto him, he'd been in agony. Oddly enough, the only way he'd found relief was by picturing his prim and proper assistant naked and imagining it was Hannah in bed with him.

It wasn't bad enough that Bridgett had kept him up half the night. When she finally did go to sleep, she'd snored like a hibernating grizzly.

"Hannah, could you get me something from the company store?" he asked, striding past his assistant's desk. "My head feels like Ringo Starr and Tommy Lee are staging a battle of the drums inside it."

"Sure. The VP of Regulatory Affairs will be here in an hour."

Fabulous. The prospect of meeting with the prime liaison between Calder and the FDA was enough to make Jordan's head pound even without a lack of sleep. The man never asked to see him unless there was a major snafu in approving a product.

Hannah followed him into his office, carrying a bottle. "I had some Acetaminophen in my desk. Also, Kurt Preston called first thing. He'll be stopping by to see you, ASAP. He sounded mad."

"No doubt." Jordan had expected some backlash from what the vice chairman had seen last evening-just not this soon. "Like I need more aggravation today."

While he rubbed the back of his neck, Hannah shook two tablets into his free hand. "Why don't you lie down and let me help get rid of some of that tension?"

"What?" He snapped his gaze to hers. The last time a woman offered to relax him, the shedding of clothing had been involved.

"A physical therapist friend taught me a way to alleviate tension headaches," she explained. "It's best if you lie on your back on the floor."

He shook his head to clear the image of her naked, straddling him on the carpet.

Yeah, that was just what Kurt Preston needed to walk in on. It would kill any shot Jordan had at becoming chairman.

Get a grip, idiot. Hannah wasn't like the endless parade of women who were constantly trying to maneuver their way into his bed. She would never come on to him-which perhaps was why the fantasy of being with her was the only way he'd been able to come in the last two weeks.

"What the hell." He dropped to his knees and stretched out. "It's worth a try."

She knelt down and lifted his head, sliding her curved fingertips under the base of his skull. "Just relax and let the weight of your head rest on my fingers. A lot of headaches are actually muscles spasms in your neck and scalp. This helps to stretch and relax them."

He gazed at her upside-down face poised only inches above his, her huge silver eyes staring back at him. He'd never noticed her wearing mascara before. Who would've guessed her light brown lashes could be so thick and long?

For that matter, she had blush on today, too. The extra color on her cheeks emphasized how delicate her bone structure and straight little nose were. Edward was right. She was pretty. Jordan bit his tongue to stop himself from telling her how nice she looked.

"So what do you think Mr. Preston's all hot and bothered about?" she asked.

"I attended the hospital's dedication of the wing last night. My date lost an earring in my car, and it rolled under my feet. When she bent down to find it, her face ended up in my lap. Stuffed-shirt Preston strolled by in the parking lot just in time to see her sit up with a beaming smile."

An amused sputter burst out of Hannah, suggesting she wasn't as uptight as he'd once thought. "I would've loved to see his expression."

"Go ahead, laugh. I'm going to have to do a helluva fast tap dance to talk my way out of this one." He steeled himself against the distracting scent wafting around him. Damn, she smelled good-kind of like summer. Was it possible to bottle a season?