She discovered that the minute he tugged her forward and crowded her body into his, roping his arms around her waist and back with way too much familiarity. Hey, just what kind of girl did he think she was?

Okay, so once she offered him money to marimba with her. Lots of women offered men money to marimba, didn’t they? And okay, so she broke into his house and climbed naked into bed with him. Like that didn’t happen every night of the week to guys in some countries. And okay, so she was kind of been cohabitating with him against his will and had been for more than a month now. What man didn’t experience something like that at least once in his life?

Did those things give Pendleton the right to question her moral steadfastness? No, they did not. Didn’t he watch Lifetime Television? Hadn’t he seen any of those Nike commercials? Didn’t he know a woman could do things like that these days if she wanted to, without fear of being labeled loose and immoral and up for hanky-panky?

The righteous indignation she was trying so desperately to corral evaporated completely when Kit felt one of his hands venturing in a southern direction. She reached behind herself to halt his progress, curling her fingers softly around his wrist before scooting his hand back up to the small of her back. But Pendleton, clearly not one to be put off so easily, only retraced the journey with his other hand.

So she reached her other hand back, as well, and repeated the service.

Unfortunately, putting both hands behind her back that way left her arching her front toward Pendleton. Too late, she realized how intimately her breasts skimmed against his chest. Too late, she noted how salaciously her torso pressed into those hard-as-rock abs of his. Too late, she saw how cordially her libido jumped up to greet his with a heartfelt howdy-do.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, trying not to notice the way her heart was jumping around in her chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry, didn’t I make that obvious?” he murmured. He twined his fingers easily with hers at the small of her back and, with a single, gentle nudge, pushed her closer still, so she felt his heart galloping erratically against her own.

“Um, no,” she lied. “I’m afraid you didn’t make it obvious at all.”

“Just goes to show you how long it’s been since I found myself in this position,” he said softly, dipping his head ever so slightly toward hers.

“Wh-what position?” she asked.

His lips curved into an oh-so-suggestive smile as he lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Trying to show a woman how much I want to make love to her.”

“Eh-excuse me?” she stammered.

In response, he moved his head a little bit closer to hers, then began to sway their bodies in time to the leisure rhythm of the music. As he brought Kit along for the ride, she was helpless to do anything but follow him, so addled was she by the closeness of him, the scent of him, the heat of him. He backed himself slowly, slowly, oh-so-slowly toward the solitary lamp lit in the room, then released one of her hands to switch it off.

Before she had a chance to protest, he immediately settled his hand at her waist again. He raked his fingers down along her hip to her thigh before cupping her leg with much affection, then he skimmed his hand back up, to curve it gently over her fanny. As she opened her free hand lightly over his chest, whatever objection Kit thought she should utter got completely stuck in her throat.

The softly flickering fire in the hearth sent a pale glow dancing over them, as if the flames, too, were caught up in the subtle to-and-fro of the music. The changing yellow glimmer threw Pendleton’s face first into stark clarity and then into deep shade, a play of light and dark that kept her from ever knowing for sure what he was thinking. His eyes were fixed on her face, but for some reason, she suddenly didn’t mind so much his scrutiny. The darkness, she knew, hid the shortcomings of Mother Nature. Besides, she wanted to look at his face, too.

Gradually, she forgot about everything, except for the way his fingers tripped lightly over her fanny, her hip, her back. Except for the warm breath that caressed her forehead. Except for the stampeding of his heart against hers.

“You are so beautiful.”

His words erupted like a barrage of artillery between them, exploding in Kit’s belly with all the heat and force of a cannon shot. For one brief, lunatic second, she actually believed what he said. Then she came to her senses, and with a forced and difficult humor, she laughed off his comment.

“Spoken like a man dancing in the dark,” she said softly, uncertainly, striving for a levity she was nowhere close to feeling. “Light a candle, Pendleton. You’ll get over it.”

“I mean it, Kit. I don’t know why I’m just now noticing it, but you really are very beautiful.”

She swallowed hard. “Yeah, well, so is a big chunk of coal to a man who’s been freezing to death for a while,” she told him quietly.

He said nothing, only hooked his hands loosely at the small of her back and continued to gaze down at her face in the darkness. As he did, something inside Kit kindled and caught fire, the flames flickering and licking at her belly until she wasn’t sure she could stand the heat. God help her, as hard as she tried not to, she found herself wanting desperately to believe what he said.

“Don’t do this to me, Pendleton,” she petitioned softly.

He gazed at her in silence for a taut moment before asking very quietly, “Do what?”

She wanted to look away, but was helpless to do anything but meet his gaze. “I made a vow a long time ago that I’d never make love to a man again unless I was in love with him, and he was in love with me.”

“And your point would be?”

The fire in her belly leaped higher, burned hotter. Surely he wasn’t suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting. Surely he wasn’t saying that they were …that the two of them had…

“My point would be that I don’t love you and you don’t love me,” she stated emphatically. There. She’d said it out loud. And it hadn’t been nearly as painful as she thought it would be.

“You’re pretty quick to make that assumption,” Pendleton said. “Why can’t we be in love?”

She bit back a hopeful sigh. “Get serious.”

“I am serious. Why can’t we?”

“Okay, I agree that you may be a man in love,” she said, proud of the detachment in her tone that she faked very nicely. “A man in love with his ex-wife.”

He opened his mouth in what she was sure would be an objection, so she quickly cut him off. “Hey, I’ve seen the look on your face when you talk about her, Pendleton. I know you’re indulging in some fantasy about going up to New Jersey with every intention of stopping her wedding. You want to try to seduce me, fine. Try to seduce me. But don’t do it by lying to me. Have a little more respect for my intelligence than that, will you?”

In response, he only pulled her closer and began to move their bodies in slow time once again. As she felt her IQ plummeting, Kit nestled against him, wishing hard that he wasn’t such a liar, wishing harder still that she wasn’t such a coward.

For a long time, they remained so entwined, through song after song about mistrust and betrayal, until she wasn’t sure she could listen to any more. So she said impulsively, “How about a little Tito Puente instead? We never did get in that merengue down in Veranda Bay. I brought a few of his CDs with me. They’re up in the bedroom. I’ll just be a sec.”

She tried to extricate herself from Pendleton’s embrace as unobtrusively as she could, but for every attempt she made to free herself, he deftly pulled her close again. Before she had a chance to utter a single further objection, he began nuzzling her throat and nibbling the curve where her neck joined her shoulder.

“Oh,” she cried softly at the unexpected intimacy. “Oh, Pendleton.”

“I like this music better,” he said, his words a quiet murmur against her skin. “It suits my mood.” She was about to suggest another musical alternative—like maybe something along the lines of Barney Sings the Best of Stephen Sondheim, anything to crush the romantic mood—but Pendleton moved a hand from her back to her rib cage, strumming his fingers slowly and methodically along each one. He didn’t stop until he cradled the lower curve of her breast in the ample L-shape of his thumb and forefinger. Then, in one swift, easy motion, he covered her breast completely and palmed the ripening peak.

And then all Kit could do was echo, “Oh, Pendleton.”

It was all the encouragement he needed, evidently. With that single, softly uttered sentiment, he took full control of the situation. He skimmed his lips along the line of her jaw, brushing them once, twice, three times across her open mouth. Kit told herself to do something, quickly, before the two of them ended up in a position her hastily fleeing reason assured her would be a very big mistake…just before it closed the door behind itself and locked it tight.

So she did something. She slid her hands up over his chest, curled her fingers over his shoulders, cupped one hand at his nape, and pulled his head down to hers for a more thorough kiss. He was an eager student, falling right into the rhythm she set with the first brush of her mouth over his.

Score one for the heart, she thought. Boy, it looked like reason was going to take a real beating tonight.

“Then again,” Pendleton murmured as he ended the kiss and brushed his lips up over her cheek, “maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to go upstairs to the bedroom, after all.”

Oh, yeah, Kit thought. At this point, reason was pretty much a goner.

In spite of her conviction, she managed to attempt one final stab at rationality. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said. Then she completely negated the objection by trailing the tip of her tongue along the line of his rough jaw, savoring the fine, salty flavor of him.

“Oh, I think it’s an excellent idea,” he countered, turning his head to catch her tongue in his mouth again. Somehow, Kit found the strength to pull away one final time. She gazed up into his eyes, wishing, wanting, wavering. “But I’m not sure I—”

“I’m sure,” he interrupted her. “Just trust me, okay?”

Trust him? she echoed to herself. No, she couldn’t do that. What she could do, though, was allow herself the temporary and unwise luxury of pretending to. She’d always been good at pretending where her emotions were concerned. Right after dancing, that was the thing she did best.

Silently, slowly, she nodded her assent. But she almost changed her mind when she saw the feral smile that spread over Pendleton’s features.

“I’m not using any birth control,” she told him. She honestly didn’t know if the remark was meant as a last-ditch effort to stop what was happening, or as a prelude to something else entirely. She couldn’t think about that right now.

“I’ve got it covered,” he assured her.

Involuntarily, she dropped her gaze downward, to a part of him that even now, she felt ripening against her.

“Well not at this exact moment,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But I’ll have it covered when the time comes.”

He lowered his mouth to hers again. Then Kit forgot about everything in the world except Pendleton, and how he made her feel. She was totally unprepared when he bent and hooked one arm behind her knees, then hauled her up into his arms and against his chest. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, a chuckle of sheer pleasure bubbling up from inside her.

“You’re not really going to carry me up the stairs, are you?” she asked.

He smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Just like Rhett?”

He cocked his head to the side. “What, you don’t think I could pull it off?”

She eyed him playfully. “Well, fiddle-dee-dee, Pendleton. Rhett only had Scarlett to deal with. You, on the other hand…”

“I have the notorious Katherine Atherton McClellan,” he finished for her. “Clearly, I’m the lucky one.”

She chose not to respond to that. It would only mess with the fantasy. Instead, she tipped her forehead to rest it against his and closed her eyes. She didn’t open them again until he crested the top step, and then only because she couldn’t tolerate any longer not being able to look at him. So she looked her fill, noted the seductive curve of his smile, the unruly lock of hair that fell rebelliously over his brow, and the dark spark of passion that glittered in his eyes.

My man Pendleton, she thought. At least for tonight.

His gaze never left hers as he carried her effortlessly over the bedroom threshold, where the faint light of a bedside lamp gilded and gentled his features even more. He didn’t stop moving until he stood beside the bed, and when Kit glanced down at it, she uttered a soft, derisive sound. She really should have made it the day before, she thought as she took in the pile of rumpled bedclothes. Ah, well. Just saved them that much trouble now, didn’t it?

Silently, Pendleton released her legs so they swung parallel to his own, but he didn’t let go of her completely. Her toes only skimmed the floor as he wound his arms tightly around her waist, pulled her to him again, and touched his lips to hers.

There was a lot to be said for being tall enough to see almost eye to eye with a man, Kit thought just before letting hers flutter closed. Funny how she’d never noticed that before. Pendleton slanted his mouth more fully over hers, and she ceased to think at all.

With agonizing, exhilarating slowness, he lowered her to the floor, pressing her against him from head to toe, so that she felt him everywhere—against her legs, her belly, her breasts, her mouth. She reached behind him to bunch his sweatshirt in both fists at the same time he lifted his hand to the top button of her shirt. They each chuckled at their single-mindedness, but neither halted the actions.

Pendleton did pause to let Kit pull his sweatshirt over his head, but the garment remained caught around his forearms until he’d freed the last of her buttons. Only then did he step away long enough to toss his shirt to the floor.

Kit could only stare at him, at the rich scattering of dark hair that decorated his entire torso, narrowing as it arrowed down to the waistband of his blue jeans, but never diminishing. Muscles roped and banded his shoulders and arms, bunching poetically as he settled his hands on his hips to observe her in return.

What on earth had she gotten herself into? She’d been with a total of one man in her entire life. And Michael hadn’t come anywhere near Pendleton on the hombre scale. She strove for a deep breath, to steady her nerves and gather her thoughts, but all she managed was a thin little hiccup of air. At the tiny, defenseless sound, Pendleton’s smile grew broader, more intent, more predatory. She realized then that she was in for the night of her life.

For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her she was beautiful again, something that would totally destroy the mood, but he remained thankfully silent. Instead, he took a single step forward and reached for her, dipping a hand beneath each side of her shirt. He moved them slowly outward, until the garment skimmed over her shoulders and fell to the floor.

Instinctively, she crossed her arms over the wisp of lavender lace beneath, suddenly feeling modest for some reason. She’d crawled into bed naked with the man, she reminded herself. She’d invited him to witness her bath. But the stakes were so much higher now, the odds so much more uncertain.

“Don’t,” he said softly, curling his fingers around each of her wrists. “I want to see you.”

She shook her head, but he ignored the gesture, tugging gently on her wrists until she unfolded her arms’ again. The moment she did, he released one of her hands and cupped his fingers possessively over her breast. Just like that. No preparation, no warning, no preliminaries. He simply reached out and made her his own. She wanted him to possess the rest of her body as completely. As if reading her mind, he lifted his other hand to her other breast, and covered it just as possessively.

A shock of heat erupted where he touched her, pooling in her heart, where it gathered strength before shooting out to warm every other part of her body. For a long moment, Pendleton only filled his hands with her, palming her sensitive flesh. Then, with the softest of touches, he skimmed his hands upward, under the straps of her bra. With a quick turn of his wrists, her straps fell down over her shoulders, and he hooked his fingers beneath them to push them down the rest of the way. Kit found herself bared for his perusal, her arms effectively trapped at her sides. Before she could voice a protest, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her breast.

He kissed her softly before drawing her in deep, laving her with the flat of his tongue, teasing her with the tip. She shuddered at the quickness in his change of pace. Then she took some initiative, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra and free her arms, so she could bury her fingers in the silk of his hair and push him closer still. Eagerly, he followed her lead, curling the fingers of one hand beneath the lower curve of her breast, lifting it higher for a more thorough maneuver.

Kit wasn’t sure how it happened, but she registered the cool crush of cotton under her back, and knew they had somehow managed to find their way to the bed. She buried her heels against the mattress and pushed herself higher, an action that left Pendleton’s mouth caressing her belly. To facilitate his endeavors, he quickly unfastened her jeans and hooked his fingers in the waistband, tugging downward to take those, and her panties, and her socks in one easy motion, until she lay beneath him, naked, exposed, vulnerable. Strangely, though, she felt none of those things. She was, after all, covered by Pendleton, by his warmth, by his strength, by his tender, loving care.

When he tossed the last of her clothes to the floor, she expected him to return to his original position, and it took a moment for her to register that he hadn’t. When she glanced down to see where he was, she found him standing by the bed, one hand unhooking the top button of his jeans.

Oh, yes, she thought. He definitely needed to do that. It was no fun at all if only one of them was naked. Well, not nearly as much fun, at any rate.

“Hurry up,” she whispered, surprised at the vehemence of her edict.

He smiled. “Now, now. We have plenty of time.”

“Do we?” Somehow, she wasn’t convinced.

Pendleton seemed to be, because he nodded with much certainty. “Oh, yeah.”

As if to illustrate his patience, he opened his jeans very slowly, button by button by button, so that she heard the whisper of each as it pulled away from its fastening. When he completed the action, he spread the fabric open with another leisurely motion, then pushed the garment down slowly, slowly, slowly over his hips. Beneath, he wore a pair of gray flannel boxers, deceptively conservative, and in no way modest, seeing as they did nothing to hide the extent of his arousal.

Kit chuckled low, the sound of a woman who was utterly and irretrievably turned on. “Are you going to take all night?” she asked.

He nodded. “Count on it.”

He seemed to become as impatient as she then, because he hastily shed both his blue jeans and boxers. When he stood, she caught her breath at the sight of him, a quick little intake of air whose hiss was unmistakable in the otherwise silent room.

Pendleton smiled. “You know, I don’t think there’s anything that turns a man on more than hearing his lover gasp when she sees the size of him. I’ll try not to worry about the fact that you have almost nothing to compare me to, and just take it as a compliment, shall I?”

She nodded. “Most definitely.” She didn’t need to be an expert on the male anatomy to know Pendleton was a man of measure. She only hoped she was enough woman to accommodate him.

“Come back to bed,” she said. “Please.”

He smiled again, and for the first time she could recall, Pendleton did as she asked. He settled first one knee, and then the other, on the mattress, then bent down on all fours to make his way to the head of the bed, where she lay on her side, watching him. Suddenly, she thought she knew how a small animal must feel just before a wolf trotted in to effortlessly carry it off, intent on enjoying it at his leisure.

The image stayed with her as Pendleton circled her ankle with strong fingers and tugged her down a bit. Then he curled his other hand around her knee and pushed her legs open wide. It took a moment for Kit to realize his intention, and when she did, she tried to clamp her legs together again. But Pendleton had already insinuated his hands and himself between her thighs, and he deftly opened her for his clearly growing appetite. Before she could utter a word in protest, he lowered his mouth to her, drawing an idle circle with his tongue before tasting her more deeply.

Kit went limp at the mind-numbing sensation that shot through her like a heat-seeking missile. She tangled her fingers in Pendleton’s hair, ostensibly to urge him away, but she only held his head fast in place, silently commanding him for more. And more. And more.

So he gave her more, over and over, laving her, loving her, teasing her, tasting her. Just when she thought she couldn’t tolerate another moment, he moved back up her body, dragging his open mouth over her flat belly, dipping his tongue into her navel, treating each of her breasts to another slow perusal. He paused on his journey only long enough to fulfill his promise of protecting her, donning a condom he pulled from the nightstand. Then he rolled her over to her side and aligned his body behind hers. He splayed one hand open over her belly, the other across her breasts. Then he lowered his head until his mouth hovered right beside her ear.

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered. “Because I don’t think I can wait any longer. I want to be inside you, Kit. Deep inside you. In every way either one of us can possibly imagine.”

Somehow, she found the strength to nod, then she turned her head to kiss him. As he consumed her mouth with his, Pendleton eased himself inside her.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, that’s so good.”

She thought he uttered a sound of agreement, but she couldn’t be sure. Deeper and deeper he entered her from behind, his movements slow, steady, certain. Kit had never felt so full, so satisfied, so complete. Until Pendleton began to move inside her. Then she realized just how empty she’d been all this time. And she knew the void was one she would never be able to fill again without him.

He moved his body up and down against hers, in and out of hers, alongside hers, until she thought she would burst with the fullness. Just when she felt herself approaching that elusive edge, he shifted their bodies so that she lay beneath him, facing him.

“I want to see your face when it happens,” he said softly. “And I want you to see mine.”

Deftly, swiftly, he entered her again, even more resolutely than before, doubling his rhythm. Over and over, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, he moved inside her, until both of them were nearly insensate with the wanting, the longing, the needing. At exactly the same time Kit felt the coil of heat inside her explode, Pendleton pelted her with one final thrust. Then both of them arched against each other, stilling as ripples of absolute pleasure wound through them.

For one long, silent moment, they only clung to each other, as if doing so would preserve their union forever. Then Kit drove her fingers into Pendleton’s hair and pulled his head down to hers for an almost brutal kiss.

I love you, she thought, and by some wild miracle, she kept the words locked deep inside. I love you.

When he pulled away from her to speak aloud what he was feeling, she quickly, gently, covered his mouth with her fingers and shook her head. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything.”

“But—”

“Don’t.”

He searched her face in silence, cupping a hand over her jaw before dipping his head to kiss her cheek. Then he rolled away from her and rose from the bed, to tend to that little matter of sexual convenience that had prevented the mingling of their physical essences.

Would that it had been as effective dividing their emotional ones, Kit thought sadly.

At the sound of water running in the bathroom, she closed her eyes. And when Pendleton returned to bed, drawing his hand slowly, gently along the length of her spine, she pretended to be asleep. Doubtless, she didn’t fool him for a minute. But, thankfully, he had the decency to simply lie down beside her, draw her close, and shut his eyes, too.

Always the gentleman, Pendleton, she thought. And she wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or not.

As had become his habit of late, Pendleton awoke slowly, clinging to the edge of a dream about Kit. This one, however, was different from the others. Normally, right about the time he got Kit naked in his dreams, the scenario went a little surreal. Like she was suddenly dressed as Carmen Miranda, and she shook a couple of maracas as she marimba-ed out the door. But this time in his dream, she stayed Kit. A naked Kit—a warm and wonderful naked Kit who made love with him in the most warm and wonderful—not to mention naked—ways.

It was some dream.

As he rolled over in bed, he threw an arm across his eyes, as if by denying himself a view of his room, he might somehow make real the erotic images parading through the forefront of his brain. Amazingly, the gesture succeeded. Because just as he did in his dream, he heard the soft sigh of Kit’s breathing, tasted the lingering flavor of her on his tongue, smelled the musky fragrance of their coupling, felt the heat of her body as it pressed into his. In fact, so realistically did four of his five senses recreate the events of his dream, that Pendleton removed his arm from over his eyes to see if there might be an equally genuine vision to greet him. But all he saw was the ceiling overhead, noting with some disappointment a patch of flaking plaster he missed the day before.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath.

A languid, muffled murmur was his reply, and he turned his head on the pillow to find that—lo and behold—Kit did indeed emerge from his dream in warm, wonderful, naked reality. That was when it finally hit him, like a bag of wet plaster upside his head. The dream he had about Kit last night? It wasn’t a dream at all. They really did make love. More than once. After all the sniping and snipping, after all the fighting and flirting, after all the denial of feelings, finally, finally, the two of them came to their senses and submitted to what should have been obvious from the beginning. They’d wanted each other all along.

As if she read his thoughts, Kit stirred, turning onto her side to face him. One arm was shoved beneath her pillow, and the other was folded over her bare breasts. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, curled into the hint of a smile that was very, very naughty.

“Sleep well, dear?” he asked, returning her smile with an equally naughty one of his own.

“Mmm,” was all she said in reply. Her eyes remained closed, but she extended one long leg into a graceful stretch that rocketed Pendleton’s blood to the boiling point.

“Did you have nice dreams?” he asked further.

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied with a stretch of her other leg. Oh, God.

“Was I in any of your dreams?” At this point, Pendleton was really only half paying attention to his side of the conversation, as the comings and goings of Kit’s legs were really much more interesting.

She opened her eyes to half-mast and smiled some more. “No.”

That, finally, brought his attention back around. A little. “No?” he echoed. “I wasn’t in your dreams?” He probably would have felt indignant if it weren’t for the fact that the sheet chose that moment to fall away from her legs, exposing them from thigh to calf.

“No, you weren’t,” she repeated sleepily. “But Orlando Bloom was.”

Pendleton’s smile fell. “Orlando Bloom? I thought I was the man of your dreams.”

She chuckled low, a profoundly erotic sound. “Oh, come on, Pendleton. Why should you be the man of my dreams when I can have Orlando Bloom in them?”

He scooted over to close what few inches of space separated them, then rolled to cover the top half of her body with the top half of his. Man, he loved the feel of Kit McClellan naked beneath him.

“Why should I be the man of your dreams?” he repeated. She looped her arms loosely around his neck and nodded.

“Because I’m the one who knows where to touch you so you make that extremely erotic little sound that drives us both wild.”

He reached down between their bodies to touch her in that very spot, and her eyes fluttered shut as she emitted a quiet murmur of delight.

“Yeah, that’s the sound I was looking for,” he said with a smile, his body tightening at hearing it again. She bent one knee to facilitate a more thorough exploration, and Pendleton took advantage of her offer.

Gently, he nudged her thighs further apart, palming the heated core of her, noting the immediacy of her dewy response to his touch. Her eyes closed more tightly, and she bit her lip, but the gesture did nothing to quiet the ripple of pleasure that escaped her lips on a sigh. Wanting to hear more, he dipped a finger deep inside her, reveling in the shudder that wound through her entire body.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, what a wonderful way to wake up in the morning.”

This time, Pendleton was the one to respond, “Mmm.”

He parted her soft folds and plowed her more deeply, furrowing his fingers back and forth and around and around, until she bucked her hips up to meet his petting.

She curled her fingers around his nape and pulled his head down to hers for a voracious kiss. “More,” she commanded him.

He rolled on a condom and tumbled his body over hers, then entered her swiftly and deeply, setting a rhythm that was at once leisurely and demanding. Over and over he buried himself inside her, until their entire bodies rocked with their reactions. At precisely the moment she arched herself against him, crying out in her completion, he, too, went rigid.

For a moment, they remained as if frozen in space and time, neither moving, neither speaking, neither breathing. Then, gradually, Pendleton relaxed, blanketing Kit as her body eased beneath his. He threaded his fingers through her hair, kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek, her jaw. Then he pulled back far enough to gaze upon her face.

What he saw there nearly stopped his heart. Nothing. He saw absolutely nothing in her expression. Kit had pulled a shutter closed over her face that made it impossible for him to tell what she was thinking or feeling about the intimacy that just passed between them.

“Kit?” he said softly. “Are you all right?”

She nodded in silence, then lifted her hand to feather her fingers through his hair. It was a simple, affectionate gesture, but for some reason, it felt like neither of those things.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “I just—”

She never finished the statement, because the alarm clock erupted on the nightstand beside her, and she jerked at the shrillness of the sound. Pendleton slapped a hand down over the intrusion, but the moment of her revelation—whatever it might have been—was gone, and there was little chance of recapturing it this morning. So he dipped his head to hers again and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

“I have to get ready for work,” he said. “But there’s no reason you need to get up. Unless you want to, oh, I don’t know…shower with me?”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought she smiled at that. “I better not. You’d never get to work.”

“And the problem with that would be…?”

“Daddy would fire you if you missed two days in a row.”

“Not if I missed because I’m making wild, jungle love to his daughter, he wouldn’t. He’d probably give me a nice, big raise.”

He meant it as a joke, but something clouded her expression when he said it. Then he remembered it wasn’t a joke at all. Didn’t McClellan, Sr. do just that? Promise Pendleton a big, honking bonus if he married Kit and secured the family fortune? Of course, she had no way of knowing about that. But it made sense for her to conclude that if her old man once paid good money to chase a guy off once in an effort to save millions, then he’d certainly be amenable to offering cold, hard cash to another one, if it meant saving a bundle in the long run.

“Oh, come on,” she said, clearly striving for a levity she was nowhere close to feeling. He could tell that, because instead of sounding happy, she sounded wounded. “Daddy has a business to run,” she went on, her voice hollow. “Sure, he’ll be delighted to find out that you really are boffing his daughter, but—and I know this will come as something of a shock to you, Pendleton—my father’s not much of a romantic at heart.”

“Boffing his daughter?” he echoed, finding the suggestion more than a little distasteful. “I beg your pardon. What I’ve been doing to the boss’s daughter goes way beyond boffing.”

She arched her eyebrows in query. “Oh?”

He smiled and pressed another kiss to her forehead. “I’ve been making love to her, sweetheart. Big difference.”

She eyed him with an expression that was at once hopeful and disappointed. “You don’t expect me to believe there was any more to last night than a good time.”

“Why don’t I?”

“Because there was nothing more to last night than a good time, that’s why.”

Oh, sure, he thought. Like she expected him to believe that.

He threaded his fingers gently through her hair, framing her face with his open hands. For a long time, he only looked at her, silently willing her to please, just this once, open herself up to the possibility that there was more to what went on between a man and a woman than a financial arrangement. Yes, she’d grown up with the knowledge that her father only married her mother for her money. And yes, she’d been forced to acknowledge that the one relationship she was allowed to have with a man ended with a check for six figures. And yes, her father only ever looked at her in terms of her monetary value when it came to keeping the family fiscally sound. Money and the worth for being loved were irreversibly linked in Kit McClellan’s mind—she’d never been taught to separate one from the other.

But surely, Pendleton thought, the suggestion that she couldn’t be loved without money wasn’t so deeply ingrained in her that she couldn’t at least give their budding relationship a chance.

“We have lots of time to talk about this,” he said. “But right now I have to get ready for work.” He dipped his head to hers and kissed her tenderly, first on one cheek, then the other, before brushing her lips softly with his.

Reluctantly, he pushed himself off the bed and padded naked across the bedroom, but he couldn’t resist turning around for one more glimpse of her warm, rosy body. “Get some sleep, because you’re going to need it,” he told her. Then, rousing the most libidinous smile he could muster, he added, “I have plans for you, tonight, Kit. Big, big plans.”