When she joined him, he was standing in front of the fireplace, the light from the flames playing across his face. As she walked, the gown moved over her body and she could see him staring at her, eyes glittering with barely concealed desire. Little jolts of electricity traveled along her nerve endings.

He handed her a filled wine gla.s.s and raised his own. "A toast. To the most magnificent woman in the world. And a prayer that you'll have some understanding of what I'm going to tell you."

Her stomach knotted. "Why don't you sit down?" She gestured toward one of the wing chairs.

"I think I'll stand for the moment. I can talk to you better this way. I want to get this all out right now before I lose my nerve." He looked hard at her face, as if searching for some indication of her mood. "Tara, I'm so sorry about Thanksgiving night. There's no justification for any of the things I said or did. You deserve much better than that."

"Yes, I do." She bit her lip, not knowing what else to say.

Cole raked his fingers though his hair. "I've been so terrified of losing you. The things I said that night? I wanted to take them back the minute they were out of my mouth, make them go away, but you were already up the stairs. I felt worse when I finally admitted to myself how much I love you, but I didn't know how to fix things."

"So you decided to get drunk instead." She said the words flatly, watching him.

"No. I was just trying to blunt the pain and find some answers. By the time I realized they weren't in the bottle, I was already wasted."

"Why didn't you let me know how you felt?" she asked. "What did you think would happen? That I'd run away?" She fiddled with her wine gla.s.s, forcing herself to be calm. "Surely you had to sense I had feelings for you, too."

"Truthfully? I was afraid."

She stared at him. "Afraid of what?"

"Of my own life, I think." He took a healthy sip of wine. "And in the end, afraid of what you'd say if I came to you sober and gave you the whole story. And told you I loved you."

"What story?" she cried. "What is it that's so hard for you to get out? The real issue here, whether you want to see it or not, isn't what happened the other night. The root of the problem is Molly. Everything leads back to her. If you can't tell me the truth, if you won't let me know what this is all about, then I don't know what we have to talk about."

He drew another deep breath, as if sucking courage from the air. "You're right. I need to tell you things you should have known from the beginning. I was just so sure if I did, you'd turn me down. Then what would I do?" He sucked in a breath. "This is an ugly story that doesn't make me look so good, but you deserve to know it all. Then I guess the rest is up to you."

He turned toward the fireplace, leaned his arm on the mantel and with his head bowed, told her a tale that by turns shocked and saddened her. In short sentences, he told her about the death of his parents when he was still in college, his fight to hang on to Sean who was four years younger. The decision he and Jake made to open their own company.

In fourteen years, they'd built Alamo Construction into what it was now. But while Jake put a failed marriage behind him and now had Lindsey and a child, with another on the way, Cole had avoided all but the most casual relationships. He reminded her of his vacation two years ago, the first he'd ever taken. He told her about Maggie-voluptuous, exotic and predatory-who'd targeted him that first night. The heady tropical drinks, seductive and treacherous in their sweetness.

He had an inability to properly metabolize alcohol, which was why he seldom drank anything but a gla.s.s or two of wine. But he was thousands of miles from home where no one could see if he made a fool of himself. And a week of the basest kind of l.u.s.t where he never remembered one sober minute. And his haste to get away from her when he finally stopped drinking.

Then the news of her pregnancy and her demand for marriage. He was adamantly opposed to abortion, and he realized he wanted a child very badly. He was able to keep Maggie off the booze while she was pregnant, frightened to death of fetal alcohol syndrome, but the baby wasn't a week old before she was binging again.

And in a tortured voice, he told her how Molly had captured his heart at once, how she'd made it all worthwhile, given his life new purpose. Then Maggie had destroyed it all. He was a rich prize, and she'd baited the trap with someone else's child. He still felt disgust that he'd let himself be trapped by her. Since then, he could hardly bring himself to look at the little girl without being reminded of how he'd gotten himself in this position and how he'd been betrayed.

When he finished, Tara sat rooted to her seat, stunned. She didn't know what she'd expected to hear, but it wasn't this awful tale of greed, deception and betrayal. How could a woman be so uncaring with the lives of a wonderful man and a beautiful child?

"I acted like a fool," he rasped. "Something I try not to do very often, you know. Just," he shrugged, "it happened. I was drunk and thought I was the one taking advantage of her."

Tara sat perfectly still, not saying a word.

He began pacing again. "I don't think Maggie and I even liked each other. What we had was l.u.s.t of the basest kind. She knew how to punch my b.u.t.tons and get whatever she wanted. I let her do it. You can't be any more disgusted with me than I am with myself. I deserved what I got."

So here it was at last. She'd known it had to be something this bad to make him behave the way he had. She'd worked with this man for two years and been married to him all these months. She knew him underneath it all-a good, decent person whose only failing was he was human. So much was clear to her now.

"I know you must hate me for the way I've treated the child." He shook his head. "It was very painful admitting to myself that a big part of this was my pride."

He took the poker and stirred the logs in the fireplace, obviously giving himself something to do. "Please try to understand. I only married Maggie because she said she was pregnant with my child. And I wanted that child. When Maggie told me the baby wasn't even mine, I was destroyed. I'd gone through the marriage from h.e.l.l for nothing."

Tara thought of Molly, the unknowing center of the turmoil, a constant reminder of everything. Her throat tightened with emotion.

"Tara?"

She could hear the edge of fear in his voice as he waited for her to break her silence.

"That's why you'd never let me into your bedroom, isn't it?" she said at last. "Because Maggie had slept in there with you."

He nodded. "I didn't want you touched by her filth."

"And why there are no pictures anywhere in the house."

"Yes."

"I thought it was because you loved her so much you couldn't bear to be reminded of her," she whispered. "I thought you wanted a contract marriage because you were never going to get over the death of your wife."

"G.o.d, no." A harsh laugh escaped his lips. "That's so far from the truth it's not even on the same planet." He rubbed his forehead. "When I asked you to marry me, I didn't realize what a selfish thing I was doing. I was concerned with my needs, not yours. I don't know how you've put up with everything. You've been far more than I could have expected."

"What did you expect?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Not nearly what I got." His eyes searched her face again. "And I certainly didn't expect to fall in love with you. Maybe Jake and Sean are right, and I've been in love with you since the day I hired you. My feelings for you kept growing stronger. It got to the point where I could hardly be near you without getting hard."

"But then you ran away from me," she said.

"Because I knew what a jacka.s.s I'd been. Everything got so mixed up that night. I reacted without thinking to the situation with the child and figured I'd blown my best chance to tell you how I felt. So, jerk that I am, I went off and got drunk. And the rest, as they say, is history."

"How do you feel now?" Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her.

He looked at her with everything he felt in his eyes. "Tara, I want this to be a real marriage, if you'll just give me the chance. I want a life with you more than I've ever wanted anything. I love you so much I can't see straight. I've been terrified that I'd chased you away."

"I had such mixed emotions the night everything happened," she said slowly. "Then, to find out you didn't even remember the details, well, I wasn't sure I ever wanted to see you again."

"I know. I wouldn't blame you." His voice was agonized. "Can we put this behind us and start fresh? Is that possible? Do you care for me at all?"

"And Molly? None of this was her fault. What about her?"

"Yes, what about her." A look of intense sadness crossed his face. "You're right. She's the innocent in all this. The way I've treated her, I think, is the greatest crime of all."

"But can you change that?" she asked quietly.

"I just don't know, Tara." He shook his head again. "I promise I'll do my best. But I know for sure I can't do anything without you."

"Didn't you have a DNA test? That would have been proof."

A muscle jumped in his cheek. "Of course. Jake insisted. The results weren't good. But I'll try to get past that."

The room was filled with tension as thick as fog, the silence broken only by the snapping of sparks in the fireplace and the hissing of logs. Tara looked down at her hands, fighting for composure. She was acutely aware of Cole, face rigid, waiting for her to respond.

"Tara, if you want me to leave, just tell me."

His voice was so ragged she barely recognized it. She knew the next move was up to her.

There were still problems, all right, but she saw with sudden clarity just how empty her life would be if she turned him away. Once she admitted this to herself, the rest was easy. Rising from the couch, she put down her wine gla.s.s and walked to where he stood.

"Tara?" he said her name again. He raised his eyes to hers, fear of what she might say written in them.

She still wouldn't look at him. "I have no idea what you must think of me, to make love with you the way I did when things were so bad between us. To make love with you at all.

Without preamble. Without anything. When we'd never even spoken about it before."

Now he reached for her, forcing her to look at him, pulling her towards him. "Tara, I'm the one who's humiliated. And more disgusted with myself than you can imagine. To insinuate myself in your bed that way?" He shook his head. "And to barely even remember all that happened." He searched her eyes. "Did I...? Did we...?"

"Yes, we did." She bit her lip. "We did."

"Then the thing I regret most is not being sober enough to enjoy it."

"But..."

"No. Listen to me. People make choices in their lives. Mike had an accident that was in no way your fault. You've got to stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over. And I've got to try not to live in the past anymore." He started to reach for her and stopped himself. "Is it all right, then? Will we be okay?"

"It's all right," she told him, and at once, she knew it would be. The major challenges could wait. Right now, being in his arms, feeling his body so close to her was the more important than anything else.

She put her arms around him and pressed her body against his, inhaling the spicy scent of him.

"Oh, G.o.d," Cole groaned, the sound a mixture of relief and desire. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, sliding one large hand up to hold her head. His kiss was not a gentle one, filled as he was with desperation. His lips were soft yet bruising and demanding. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, plundering it, devouring it, tasting every inch of it.

Tara slid her tongue against his, returning movement for movement. His taste was heady, intoxicating, the mint of his toothpaste mingled with the bite of the wine. The kiss went on and on until she couldn't breathe.

When they finally broke the kiss, he lifted his head and looked at her, studying her eyes.

She could tell he saw something that made him relax just the slightest bit. He took off his jacket and tossed it on the couch, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt.

"Now, I think it's time to stop talking. Tonight, I'm totally sober, and I plan to remember every minute of what happens."

With that, he brought his mouth down to hers again, claiming her with a kiss that seared her soul. His tongue probed the seam of her lips and she opened for him. It was a kiss beyond any she'd ever had before, heating her blood, melting her bones. She wanted him to swallow her whole.

"Let's go upstairs," she said breathlessly, when they separated.

Cole shook his head. "No. I'm a desperate man, Tara. I prayed for this every minute since the other night. I want you right here, right now. In front of the fire. In this room where there are no specters to haunt me." He pulled the soft pillows off the couch and tossed them to the floor. "I want to look at you," he told her, his voice thick in his throat. "I want to see every bit of you.

Come here."

He reached behind her and unzipped the gown, the flimsy cloth falling at once in soft folds at her feet.

She was naked before him except for the diamond and pearl earrings reflecting the firelight. The flames cast shadows on her body, giving it a rich, warm glow. He stepped back, his eyes raking her, his breath catching involuntarily. She was more magnificent than he'd imagined.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sloped proudly upward, the nipples dark against the pale flesh. The firelight cast shadows at the hollows of her hips and at her navel. The nest of curls covering her mound was as rich in color as the thick mane she held back with the clip.

He reached around her and released her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders in shimmering waves. He touched the silky softness with his fingers. "G.o.d, you're gorgeous. You should wear your hair this way more often. It makes you look more tempting than any woman has a right to be."

He pulled her naked body against him, feeling warmth of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the fine cloth of his shirt, his hands exploring the unbelievable softness of her skin. The jasmine scent she favored teased at his nostrils, and he pressed his face to her skin, inhaling her fragrance. They kissed again, tongues exploring mouths, lips pressed hard against lips. The fire snapped and crackled, casting gold and orange colors on them. The delicious scents of spruce and cinnamon and holly heightened their senses.

Tara's hands were at his shirt, opening b.u.t.tons, yanking at his tie. He felt her fingers at his belt buckle then at his fly, unfastening, unzipping. Her touch was bold, brazen.

"I want to look at you, too," she said against his mouth.

His hands were working with hers to rip away fabric. In seconds, he was as naked as she was. He stood before her, his tall, powerful body outlined in the firelight, his eyes boring into hers.

Tara was transfixed by his nudity. He reminded her of some primitive G.o.d, ready for the mating ritual. His c.o.c.k stood out from his body, the root settled in a thick nest of dark hair, his sac lying heavy against his thighs.

Just like in my dream.

She wet her lips, captivated by the sight of him in the flesh, and pressed her hands against his warm skin. He was so hard and muscular, his chest matted with a thick carpet of dark curls begging for her fingers to touch them. A soft line of down trailed along his abdomen and down into his groin. She nearly fainted when she touched his thick shaft. It was more enormous in real life than in her dream, so large it mesmerized her. She couldn't imagine how she could accommodate it.

"Cole." She bowed her head, catching her lower lip with her teeth. Sudden shyness and uncertainty intruded on the wave of desire sweeping through her.

"I know." He brushed his lips across her forehead. "It's all right, Tara."

He bent his head to hers again, slanting his mouth to capture her lips. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, she welcomed the taste of him, reveling in the texture of his tongue and its demanding thrusts. He tasted wonderfully of mint toothpaste and the smoky Merlot, reminding her of that first kiss they'd shared.

With a touch that was almost reverent, he skimmed her with his fingertips, running his hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her waist, her flat stomach and the curve of her b.u.t.tocks. Every place he touched ignited another lick of flame.

"No other woman has ever affected me this way." His voice was hoa.r.s.e and not quite steady. "You reach into my very soul. I want you, every bit of you, every way I can have you and I never want to stop."

Tara circled his erection with her fingers, but he grabbed her hand.

"Not yet. This is for you, darlin'. Just for you."

Laying her down with great gentleness on the bed he'd made of the pillows, he touched her nipples with fingers that shook, teasing each one until it stood hard and erect against his hand.

His fingertips drew a line along her ribcage and back in to her navel, circling it with his thumb.

He let his hand drift lower, until he reached the soft feel of her delicate curls. Placing his palm over her mound, he slid his finger between the folds of her p.u.s.s.y, seeking her opening.

With a feathery touch, he stroked up and down her slit in a gliding motion, touching only the outer lips. With a soft moan, she opened her legs to him. He slid one finger into her hot sheath, then another, seeking her center.

"You're already wet for me," he said, desire thick in his voice.

"I know."

Her pulse raced, every nerve firing. Her body, frozen in cold storage for so long, thawed and warmed in the heat of their pa.s.sion. The feel of his body next to hers was as electric as a live wire. She could feel the definition of his hard muscles, the sweet roughness of the hair on his chest, the silkiness of his hair when he bent his head to her.

Slowly, almost lazily, Cole stroked in and out of her c.u.n.t, watching her through slitted eyes. Her eyes became heavy with pa.s.sion, her breathing ragged. He moved his thumb up to find that so sensitive nub and circled it teasingly. She caught her breath and began to move her hips, urging him to enter her deeper, but he held back.

"Tonight when you come," he said in a low voice, "I want it to be the most shattering climax you've ever had. Don't deny me that."

He curled his fingers, finding the hot spot, and she thrust hard against his hand. When the first little flutters began, he withdrew altogether.