leaped and her palms grew moist, and she was thankful she had worn more than a nightgown.

She couldn't say a word for him to stay where he was, nor could she bring herself to flee. He didn't stop until he stood before her, his gaze drifting to her lips, then lower.

Her nipples pulled into tight buds in response to nothing more than his gaze, taut and aching for him to

brush his palms against them as he had done before.

Reaching out he touched her, his fingertips drifting along her collarbone, then down her arms, which made her remember why she wasn't in bed.

"Ouch."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Ah, more nothings. Did you learn that from Travis?"

Despite herself she smiled. "All right, if you must know, I'm sunburned."

He stepped back, not far, but enough so that she could breathe. At least she could until he tugged at the

edges of the robe.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeak.

"Taking off your robe."

SIXTEEN.

"My robe?" she stammered. He answered by pulling the material back, revealing the bright white skin that ran like a ribbon through the painful red sunburn. "It's too hot for a robe."

He felt the shiver of desire that raced through her, saw how her hazel eyes flashed with green fire. Her breath caught and fluttered. Instinctively, she tried to cover herself when he ran his finger down the unburned, delicate white skin, his hand drifting lower until he came to the curve of her breast, safely hidden away beneath her prim robe.

She was beautiful and innocently vulnerable. With every day that passed, he wanted her more. His body ached to find hers. But he wanted her to trust him, he realized. He felt a nearly unrecognizable determination to be patient, to woo her.

The thought made a beat of wolfish pleasure pound through him. He'd always been a man to take what he wanted, when he wanted it. But with Kate, he wanted to lead her to a place where she could truly accept her own desire. Because while one minute she wanted to be free and modern, in the next, long years of being responsible surged.

It was a battle for her. He understood that. And he would guide her slowly to what he conceded they were destined to share. Passion, their bodies.

"Let me see your burn." He claimed her hand, gently running his fingers over the pulse in her wrist.

"My burn?" she managed, pulling her robe back around her.

He smiled at her. "Yes, your burn. That's all."

She bit her lips, but didn't protest when he tugged her hands away, and after a second she let them drop. The small gesture was an act of trust. His chest felt like it would explode with simple pride. It was amazing what she did to him, how she could wipe everything from his mind but her.

He felt her tremble when he parted the material again, but there was no fear, and his pride grew.

Her skin was a mix of flawless pearl juxtaposed with angry red. "I've seen worse, but it has to hurt. I

have some ointment that will help." Careful of the burn, he secured her robe, then tugged her out the back door and across the pool deck to the guest cottage.

Once inside, she made a point of remaining in the tiny living room when he let go and continued on into

the bathroom. She stood with her robe tied tight and her arms crossed securely. She heard him rummaging around in a drawer.

"Where are you?" he called back to her.

"I thought you could bring whatever it is you have out here."

"I'm not going to jump your bones, Kate."

Kate grimaced. "O ye of honeyed words."

When she marched into the bathroom, he didn't respond, only started to pull the robe away. Out of habit, her hand leaped to the closure. "I'll do it," she said.

After a second, he handed over the plastic tube in surrender. "Fine."

She could tell he was trying to help, but he was also showing her that he would take this at the pace she wanted-as if he had no doubt whatsoever that indeed they would make love.

The realization made her mad, but it also made sensation surge between her legs. Whether he stayed or

whether he left, more and more she wondered what she wanted. To take a chance? To stay safe? To wear caution and virtue like a badge of honor?

She didn't know.

She took the ointment, debated for a moment, then left the cottage, only to return five minutes later. He hadn't moved an inch.

"Yes?" he asked, his dark hair brushed away from his face, his eyes filled with a predatory gleam barely masked by a kind patience.

"Well, I can't get it on."

Though she had given it an amazing try. But her attempts had yielded only marginal success given that it was next to impossible to reach her back without stretching the very skin that the sunburn made scream in pain.

"I'm happy to help you get it on." His smile turned into a teasing grin.

Kate rolled her eyes, though truthfully it was easier to sort through her feelings for this man when he

was teasing rather than when his dark gaze smoldered in a way that caused her heart to block her throat, making it hard to breathe.

Jesse chuckled, pulled her robe away before she realized what he was doing, and tossed it aside.

Every trace of humor melted away. She became aware of the sheer nightgown she had worn beneath the sensible cotton. He looked at her with something she could only term awe. Wariness began to fade beneath the heat of a traitorously bold pleasure.

He turned her until her back was to him. She trembled in anticipation. Then all he did was smooth the thick lotion over her shoulders like a calm professional. But even that felt amazing.

A tiny-she told herself it was tiny-moan escaped her lips. Jesse murmured wordlessly, sliding his palms along her skin, pushing the straps of her gown to the side.

She wiggled her shoulders. "Maybe a little more to the left."

This time there was a chuckle mixed with the rugged sensuality of his touch. But she reasoned that a girl needed a little attention now and again, and while in the guise of a sunburn rub, what could it hurt? She half believed herself. The minute it turned to something else, she'd put a stop to things.

Though more and more she began to wonder why she had thought her no-sex rule was such a good idea. All he had to do was look at her for her limbs to go weak and a strange staccato dance to start up in her chest.

Starting at her shoulder blades, his hands slid up, then down, in a deep stroke. But the second time his palms swooped up they didn't stop. Her body began to hum when the tips of his fingers spread the ointment along her collarbones.

"How long has it been since you've had sex?" he asked.

Surprise rippled through her, and she tried to be incensed. "One, that's none of your business, and two, it hasn't been that long."

"I don't believe you. I think it's been a long time ... if ever."

Her chin rose defiantly. "So sue me. I will not be my mother."

The words burst out of her, seeming to come out of nowhere. She cringed.

His strong hands paused, then came up and gently squeezed her shoulders, pulling her back toward him, his breath against her ear. "You've never been your mother, Kate. You never could be."

She pivoted to face him, her gown slipping low when the tiny straps fell farther down her arms. "Oh, really?"

She couldn't explain why she felt insulted. As always when she was around him, she felt skewered by the double prongs of reason and desire. Nothing ever seemed black or white. Too much gray, making her vacillate from one need to another. She didn't want to be like her mother, tangling with men in a way that left her as nothing more than a twisted knot on the floor. But there were other times, like now, that Kate wanted to be seen as passionate and wildly desirable. But she also knew that her feelings were more than that. Deeper.

"I know that no one would ever confuse me with my mother, because she's so vibrant and beautiful that men can't help but fall in love with her. She's like a bright flame that draws people-especially men."

Kate knew she was being ridiculous, even childish, but couldn't seem to stop herself.

His gaze burned and his jaw went taut as he took in her body. Then he tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. He was so tall, so commanding, and she looked up at him and saw the intensity of his emotions.

"You have it wrong, Kate. You could never be like your mother, not because you aren't full of passion, but because Mary Beth has always been selfish. She uses men to fix her life. And when the excitement pales and the real world sets in, she moves on to the next poor unsuspecting soul for a new fix of excitement to chase reality away. You, Katherine Bloom, have always faced up to the truth, no matter how difficult it is. I've always admired you for that."

She bit her lip. His words touched her deeply, but they also frustrated her.

"Maybe I'm tired of people's admiration," she stated. "Maybe I just want to feel alive for a change, without worrying about what happens next or what the future holds. But whenever I start to give in, I think of my mother. One minute I'm trying to be wild, then the next I can't hear the word pussy referring to a simple cat without flushing crimson with embarrassment. Then in order to prove that I am not the prude I've just proved myself to be, I swing back the other way, acting like a possessed person as I did with that love products show. It's a vicious circle. Be responsible so I'm not like my mom, but then lash out for having to be so responsible all the time. The night I asked you to make love to me, I wanted to feel free and wild. All of a sudden, I had this overwhelming urge to forget everything and feel sexy. Me, suddenly sexy." She shook her head at how ridiculous it was. She snorted. "But then my mind swirls back, and I can't follow through."

His finger drifted along her jaw to the pulse in her throat. "You are sexy, Kate. Not suddenly, after you put on some short skirt or because you asked me to make love to you. You've been sexy for years-sexy in all the best ways. Hell, you were even sexy clutching that photo album to your chest, with that pot of tea sitting on the table next to you. You were hot and beautiful but I couldn't afford to see you that way."

Their eyes met and held, her breath shuddering painfully inside her. It flashed through her mind that he might pull her to him, capture her against his chest, their mouths slanting together in hunger. But none of that happened. No moment of startling passion, no music soaring to a crescendo in the background.

"Now let me get a better look at that sunburn," he said.

Disappointment made her sigh. She was thinking passionate sound tracks and he was thinking medicine.

But then very carefully he slipped his forefingers underneath the straps, pulling them farther down, and then down even lower, revealing her breasts.

Her sigh caught in her throat, and her heart pounded. She tried to reconcile a friend's concern with the heated look in his eyes.

He peeled the gown away with an infinite slowness until it fell in a puddle around her ankles. She stood still, her pulse ragged. The heat in his eyes flared, then his lips tilted at one corner.

This is your chance to be sexy.

The words flitted through her head. But it wasn't a matter of being suddenly sexy, not even outrageously sexy as she had been on the love products show. But truly sexy, in a way that for once was real. She could be powerful. She could be confident.

Like a bad habit, embarrassment tried to push through the power when he just stared at her.

"What?" she asked nervously when he stood there and only looked.

"New panties?"

Sheer bikinis with tiny pink roses trimming the edge.