what you’re trying to tell me?”

what you’re trying to tell me?”
He sighed and shifted until she was cradled even more tightly against him. Never one to transfer the blame for something to someone else when his own role was perfectly evident, he forced himself to accept responsibility for what had just happened. Hanna might have initiated things, but he’d been an eager participant.

All of which begged the question, what now? If he had a functioning brain cell left, he’d leave the pursuit of Bobby Rinaldi in Ashlee’s capable hands and hightail it back to New York and his other clients. Sticking around Winding River and carrying on a fling with Hanna was a dead-end road for both of them. She would realize it once the initial physical attraction wore off. What was the expression? Their relationship was definitely too hot not to cool down. That was certainly his experience. Even relationships based on more than he and Hanna had in common eventually burned themselves out. His mother’s certainly had. In fact, he predicted that after today, now that he and Hanna had tasted what had previously been forbidden, the attraction would be well on its way to dying.

He glanced at her, took in the rosy cheeks, the lush curve of breast and hip,

the dark cloud of tousled hair, the thoroughly kissable mouth. His body stirred with all the urgency he had felt not a half hour before.

So much for diminishing attraction, he thought as he ran his hand over petal- soft skin that smelled of citrus and ginger. Her nipple peaked to a hard bud against his palm. She shifted restlessly as his caresses intensified and became bolder.

Then she was wide awake and moving against him, welcoming him, hips thrusting against hips, seeking, urgent. The heat climbed as he buried himself deep inside, withdrew, then sank into her again and again.

This time, she was the first to cry out, the first to reach a shuddering climax.

As the waves washed through her, they set off his own explosion. Muscles bunched, strained, then relaxed into the demanding pleasure of it.

“Too much,” she cried as their bodies mated with fierce intensity, arching together in another wild burst of sensation. Then, “More, please, more.”

Her words were an echo of his reeling thoughts. Being with Hanna was too much by far, and yet he knew, with soul-searing honesty, that he could never get enough.

When Hanna woke from an exhausted sleep this time, there were no sneaky caresses teasing her awake. In fact she was in the king-size bed all alone. The sound of water running told her that Rafe was taking a shower. His side of the vast mattress was cool to her touch, suggesting that he’d been up for a while now.

It was dark outside. Inside, there was only the glow from beneath the bathroom door and a digital clock on a bedside stand to light the room.

Hanna heard the water shut off, the sound of off-key humming, and grinned.

What would he think if she slipped into the room and joined him? Oddly, she felt more uncertain about his reaction now than she might have hours ago.

She had seduced Rafe. There was no question in her mind about that. She had done precisely what she’d told Ashlee she intended to do. She had wanted something and she had gone after it.

What now, though? Was Rafe happy about the turn of events? She knew he had enjoyed the sex as much as she had, but beyond that? Had all those doubts of his crowded in again? Had he succumbed to all of the sensible, rational arguments that would have kept her out of his bed in the first place? Not knowing kept her right where she was, waiting, feeling more vulnerable than she had in years.

Not that she regretted anything, not one single, amazing second. But it

would be nice to know where she stood, what she could expect when he emerged from behind that door. She watched it with the same trepidation a suspect might feel awaiting a jury’s verdict. Even as she made the analogy, she cringed.

When Rafe eventually opened the door, her heart slammed against her ribs.

He was wearing a pair of still-new jeans and nothing more. The snap was undone and the waistband rode low on his hips. No cowboy had ever looked sexier than this. Longer now than when he’d first arrived in Winding River, his hair was damp and tousled. She wished she dared to run her fingers through it to add to its surprising tendency to curl. She gave him a hesitant smile, which he was a little too slow to return. Her pulse skittered unsteadily.

“You’re awake,” he said, his tone cautious and surprisingly uncertain. “So are you,” she noted, forcing a teasing note into her voice.

Looking incredibly unsettled and awkward, he dropped down on the side of the bed. He lifted his hand as if he might caress her, but then let it drop to his thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asked, studying her intently. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought you might be having second thoughts.” Her gaze searched his. “Are you?”

“Hell, yes,” he said fiercely, but his expression softened to take the sting out. “And if you were the least bit sensible, you’d be scared spitless, too.”

She grinned at that. “I don’t scare so easily.” “We really do have to talk about this, Hanna.”

“Why? We’re two consenting adults. Why do we need to make a big deal out of something so natural?”

“Because—”

She frowned at him. “I will not talk this to death, Rafe. I will not regret it. If that’s what you’re hoping for, forget it.”

“I don’t want you to regret it. I just want you to realize that it can’t go on.” “And why is that? Because you have decreed that it can’t?”

“No, because it can’t go anywhere.”

She began to lose patience with his oh-so-reasonable tone. “Why can’t it?

And who said I wanted it to go anywhere, anyway?” “Let’s face it, Hanna. You don’t do this sort of thing.” “Have sex?”

“Have casual sex,” he corrected.

“And that’s all you have,” she shot back. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

He winced at the charge, but he didn’t deny it.