"I don't think that's supposed to happen during a girl's first time."

"I couldn't see any reason for you to miss out. It just takes figuring out what you like and doing it long enough."

She used her arm to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. "You certainly figured it out."

"Not immediately. But...like I said, we managed it in the end." His teeth flashed when he raised his head to grin at her. "And it was worth the effort, right?"

"It was definitely worth the effort," she agreed with a laugh.

"I'm glad you cooperated. You're far more responsive than I expected. I thought you might be too self-conscious to climax." He rolled over to face her but didn't touch her. "I'm glad I was wrong."

With other guys, she'd been too self-conscious to even get naked. But not with him. She wasn't sure what made the difference. "It was time to get the deed done."

"Good thing you got that over with."

She laughed at his sarcasm.

"So...what?" he asked. "Did I just hit you up at a weak moment or..."

He wondered why she'd chosen him after waiting so long, but she couldn't explain. She hadn't figured out the reason herself. "Who knows?" She pulled up the sheet and rolled onto her side, to face him as he was facing her. "Maybe I was tired of being a freak."

He lifted a sweaty tendril of hair off her cheek.

"What?" she said when she noticed the way he was looking at her.

"Being a virgin doesn't make you a freak."

"At thirty-one?"

"Okay, maybe a little bit of a freak," he teased.

She rose up on her elbow. "How many women have you slept with?" she asked but then fell back and raised her hand before he could speak. "Never mind. Don't answer that. It's none of my business."

When he didn't comment, she opened one eye so she could see his expression.

His mood seemed to have sobered. "I'm clean if that's what you're worried about."

They'd used the condoms he'd brought, anyway. Fortunately, he'd been prepared, as if he'd guessed the reason behind her call-before she even knew. "Good information to have."

Her mother's voice yanked her out of the euphoria that had descended. "Chey? Cheyenne? Where are you?"

A wave of panic that maybe Anita had overheard them, that they'd given themselves away, brought her crashing back to earth.

Dylan, sensing her reaction, seemed concerned. "Everything okay?"

She forced a smile. "Fine. But I-I have to go take care of my mother. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"It's awkward timing."

"Trust me, it could've been worse."

She laughed at his meaning. "True."

"Anyway, I admire you for the sacrifices you make for her. I know your sister hasn't helped as much as she should."

Dylan Amos understood how heavy a load she'd been carrying-and sympathized? That said he was more intuitive and understanding than she'd expected. She was beginning to think she'd been wrong about him in a lot of ways. That frightened her, but she couldn't say why.

Suddenly, she wanted him to leave. "Thanks for...for everything," she said as she got up. "I hope that's the right thing to say in a situation like this. I haven't had any practice at pillow talk."

"There's no manual."

"Good point. So then I'll say...I appreciate your time...and your...skill with women."

That was a send-off if ever there was one. She wasn't starting a relationship-she was in love with Joe. But he didn't move. He watched her from the bed, as naked and still as a Greek statue. "With women?" he repeated dryly.

"Yes. You know how to make sex as...exciting as everyone says it should be. That was...great. Really great. I'll give you an endorsement if you ever need one."

His tone went flat. "I'd be flattered if you weren't basically telling me to get lost now that we're done."

This wasn't ending as smoothly as she'd hoped, but she'd never had sex with anyone and wasn't sure how to wrap up even an isolated encounter. She'd made that clear, hadn't she? "Like you said, there's no manual. I'm not trying to offend you. I'm just..." She was a little panicked by what she'd done, but she didn't think it would be very polite to say that, so she went for something she thought he'd be able to understand. "I'm afraid my sister will come home and see your bike out front."

"Would that be so terrible?" he asked. "Presley certainly isn't someone who could find fault."

She pulled on her robe. "Maybe not, but we live in a small town."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then you know the gossip a lapse like this would cause if she happened to mention it to anyone else."

"That's what it was? A lapse?"

"Other people would see it that way," she said to avoid answering more directly.

"Who cares? What can they do? Talk?"

"Yes. I realize it wouldn't hurt your reputation, but it could do permanent damage to mine." And her reputation was all she had, the only way she could differentiate herself from her mother and sister.

"So...being with me would cheapen you."

She blinked at him. "Sleeping with you, yes. Don't say it like I'm acting superior. That isn't the case. I've grown up on the same side of the tracks as you have."

He got out of bed and began jerking on his clothes. "Yeah, but I'm not ashamed of it."

"Maybe you didn't have a mother who hooked for a living."

"You're right." His eyes grew flinty; she could see the shine to them, even in the darkness. "I didn't have a mother at all, at least not for long."

Cheyenne should never have brought this up. His life had been as difficult as hers. When his mother took an overdose of sleeping pills and died only five or six years after Mack was born, his father started drinking and, according to all the rumors, he was one mean drunk. Cheyenne was a sophomore, Dylan a senior, when J.T. knifed a man in a bar and went to prison. It was Dylan who'd dropped out of school to take over the family's auto body shop, Dylan who had cared, all these years, for his four younger brothers. His father was still incarcerated.

"I'm sorry." She took a shaky breath. She was out of her element, or she wouldn't have been so insensitive.

His lips, which had kissed her so tenderly just minutes before, twisted into a snarl. "I'm not looking for your pity."

"Then what do you want from me?" she asked softly. "I thought I already gave it to you."

He shook his head. "I don't want anything more. Why would I? You're committed to someone else. Someone who doesn't give a shit about you, by the way."

She winced at the harshness of his words but he spoke the truth. "I've been in love with Joe since I was fourteen, Dylan. Whether or not he returns my interest doesn't seem to make any difference, although I wish it did."

"Fourteen, huh?" He zipped his jeans but didn't button them before putting on his boots. "That's pretty tough to compete with. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

When he chuckled without mirth, she got the impression he was kicking himself for coming over, and she wasn't sure how to react to that. She'd never imagined that he might regret being with her. Judging by some of the wild stories she'd heard, women were merely toys to the Amos men, interchangeable.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. His shirt was in the living room, where they'd left it earlier. She wanted to get it for him. He looked far too good without it, even now that she was thinking clearly. But she held back. "I never dreamed you'd take this seriously, not when you have so many other women to...to sleep with."

He pushed his hair out of his face. "Yeah, well, I guess I was lying when I said it'd been a long time. Or...maybe I'm not as shallow as you choose to believe."

Cheyenne felt helpless in the face of his disappointment. She could see how her words and actions came across. She'd taken too much for granted. She'd used him without a thought about how that might make him feel because she'd assumed he was using her, too. "I'm not accusing you of being shallow. I thought you'd be satisfied with getting...you know...lucky, that's all. From what I've heard-"

"Just because you hear it doesn't make it true," he broke in. "The people who spend so much time talking about me don't even know me. And I won't live my life trying to please them. Whiskey Creek's fine, upstanding citizens would never accept me even if I did."

"You're the one who made the offer in the park!" she snapped, finally rallying. "It wasn't as if I propositioned you."

"Thanks for the reminder. It's always good to know I can blame myself when I do something stupid."

She felt like he'd just slapped her. "Why do you have to blame anyone? We had fun, didn't we? Can't we leave it at that? I mean, we barely know each other-"

"We've known each other for seventeen years, Cheyenne."

"We've never hung out together! So this can't really matter that much!"

Suddenly, he was the implacable, indifferent man she'd seen around town wearing a sardonic half grin as his gaze trailed after her. "It doesn't. It doesn't matter at all. Call up Joe tomorrow and see if he can satisfy you any better. Maybe you'll decide this actually sucked."

"I already said it was good. I-"

"Who's there?" Her mother, voice ragged with weakness and pain, interrupted. "Presley? Cheyenne? Where are you? I've yanked out...my damn catheter."

Dylan waved her out of the room. "Go take care of her."

Cheyenne felt she had no choice but to do exactly that. She couldn't leave Anita lying in a bed soaked with urine. "Wait here...so we can talk, okay? Let's not end the night like this."

"If you wanted to end it better, maybe you should've held out for someone who was on your list of possibilities."

She swallowed hard. "I-I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"Don't go away mad." This wasn't the memory she wanted to carry with her from her first time. Everything had gone so well, until now. Somehow, she'd miscalculated, had no idea she'd been on his list of possibilities.

"Just...hold on, okay?" She could convince him to be her friend, if only he'd give her the opportunity, she thought as she hurried to fix Anita's problem. But she heard his motorcycle roar to life while she was still in her mother's room and knew, as the sound dimmed, that he hadn't bothered to wait.

"You're quiet today." Riley bent to get a better look at her face. "You okay?"

Cheyenne glanced up from the computer in her small office off the inn's kitchen. "I'm fine, why?"

She'd come to research some recipes and create a whole new menu for when they opened in January. The printer would take a week, maybe longer over the holidays, so she wanted to get the process started. But in the four hours she'd been at the B and B, she'd accomplished nothing. While Riley and his son made a racket enlarging the bathroom on the second floor, she'd been replaying every second of her time with Dylan.

Even now, hours after the big event, she couldn't help blushing at the memory of the words he'd whispered, telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he wanted her. Then there was the memory of his strong hands on her thighs as he guided her movements the second time they'd made love. That was when she'd really relaxed and begun to enjoy herself.

She wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or relieved that she'd finally dispensed with her virginity, mortified or grateful that she'd chosen Dylan to be the one. Allowing him to remove her clothes, and removing his, was completely out of character for her. She felt she should regret it. And yet...regret played no part in her reactions. At least not yet.

Why? He wasn't the man of her dreams, but once she'd led him into her bedroom, she never considered backing out. She couldn't have, even if she'd tried. She'd been too caught up in what he was doing to her-and what she wanted to do to him.

Was it normal to desire a stranger like that? Someone she wouldn't ordinarily date?

She'd never found Dylan particularly handsome. She went for the uncomplicated type, the all-American athlete, like Joe. But she had to admit that Dylan was...raw and edgy and quite magnetic.

Riley clicked his tongue. "There you go again."

"Excuse me?"

"You're staring off into space."

She forced a laugh. "I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be okay. I promised Eve I'd look after you."

Chey folded her arms. It was a protective gesture designed to create a buffer between her and someone who knew her well enough to be able to tell when she was lying. "And you're doing your job."

He wiped the demolition dust from his arms as he responded. "No, something's wrong. I can tell. We've been friends almost since you moved to town, remember?"

She glanced at his son, Jacob, who'd come up behind him and seemed to be awaiting her answer as if he was one of her close friends, too. Even if she'd been tempted to tell Riley about Dylan, to see if he thought she'd screwed up as badly as she told herself she had, she couldn't say in front of a young teen that she'd had sex with Dylan Amos. Since Riley had asked her what was wrong in his son's presence, he obviously had no clue how private the real problem was. But then, he knew she wasn't seeing anyone, so he had no reason to suspect it might deal with her sex life.

"I didn't get much sleep," she mumbled.

He frowned in sympathy. "Your mother's getting worse, isn't she?"

With a sigh, Cheyenne rubbed her eyes. Anyone would think she'd be completely preoccupied with her mother's situation. Instead, she'd chosen last night to invite a man she barely knew into her bed. "That's part of it." Only one part, and not the biggest...

"You don't have to stay here today. I've got the architectural drawings. We know what we're doing. If we run into a problem, I can call you."

"I realize that. But...I have things to do." She looked around the six-by-eight office, with its wainscoting and custom cabinetry. This place was her refuge; she didn't want to be at home.

"Dad, can I have a soda?" Jacob asked.