She felt his weight shift as he twisted in the seat. “Where should I be, Carmen?”

  His voice was so soft, so caressing, she wanted to lean into it, into him. She shook her head instead and gave a soft, disconcerted laugh.

  “Where should you be?” she repeated expansively. “Wherever it is that good little millionaires spend their free time, I suppose. At some exclusive club? Jetting off to Rio? Yachting off South Padre? I don’t know where. Anywhere but here, I guess.”

  With a gentle pressure of his palm against her cheek, he turned her face to his. “Why can’t I just be where I want to be?”

  “But that’s what I mean. Why wouldn’t you want to be at any of those other places?”

  “I thought we’d covered that last night. I’m here because I’d rather be with you.”

  She closed her eyes, clinging stubbornly to the notion that he couldn’t be for real. “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “That’s the general idea.”

  “And to be with me, you’re willing to spend your free time driving down hot Houston streets, eating hamburgers at a fast-food restaurant, and fighting crowds at a museum?”

  He smiled. “I just did it, didn’t I?”

  “But—”

  “But what?”

  “I can’t believe you enjoyed it.”

  “There’s that word again. I thought we’d gotten past your doubts on that count. Carmen, stop. Think about it. We spent the afternoon together. Did you hear me complain?”

  Not only had he not complained, he had actually appeared to be having a good time. “No, but—”

  He pressed a thumb gently to her lips, silencing her. “But what? Why can’t you accept that I want to be with you? Why can’t you relax about the way I feel about you and let things take their course?”

  Why? Because she wanted too badly to believe he meant exactly what he’d said. Because she wanted too desperately to believe in the two of them together.

  “Logan—”

  Once again, he cut her off. “No more questions.” He reached for the ignition and this time brought the powerful motor to life. “No more doubts. You’re tired. Just close your eyes. Enjoy the ride. I’ll have you home in an hour.”

  Actually it was more like forty-five minutes. The only way she knew was because he told her when he gently woke her after pulling to a stop in front of her apartment building. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen asleep.

  Marginally refreshed, excruciating aware of the man beside her, she slid out of the car. In silence, in a state of suspended anticipation, he walked her to her door. She handed him her key with a trembling hand. It was a blatant invitation to stay. The look on his face, the sudden tensing of his broad shoulders made her heart pound.

  Ever so slowly, he crowded her against the door. The dark, musky male scent that had teased at her senses all day seemed suddenly to surround her in a snug and arousing web. His eyes, intense and seeking, searched hers as he flattened his forearms on either side of her head and covered her mouth with his.

  It was the first time she’d willingly offered him her mouth without reservation. It was the first time he’d sensed and responded to her open invitation.

  Liquid, languid, gloriously carnal yet exquisitely caring, his kiss turned her knees to rubber. Never breaking the kiss, he draped her arms around his neck and pinned her firmly against the door with his hips.

  His arousal was hot and heavy where it nestled commandingly against the hollow of her belly. His tongue was probing and possessive as he swept inside her mouth to tempt and torment and offer a taste of untold pleasures.

  He forced himself to end the kiss. “I swear, Carmen, I was going to leave you untouched at your door. I wasn’t going to start this. You’re tired. You need to be in bed.” He sounded as winded and as aroused as she felt.

  “You’re right about one thing.” Anchoring her hands in his hair, she pulled his head back and nuzzled his jaw with a restless, reckless hunger. “I do need to be in bed.”

  He swallowed thickly.

  “I need to be in bed with you.”

  He groaned and a fierce, long shudder racked his big body. “And you will be,” he promised, “soon.”

  He looked deep into her eyes and then kissed her once more, thoroughly, aggressively, before he forced himself to pull away. “But not tonight.”

  Answering the confusion in her eyes with a low, vivid oath, he bid her a husky, soul-melting good night, and left her.

  “Maybe it’s like an endurance test,” Barb suggested speculatively as she and Carmen ate lunch at a corner table in the hospital cafeteria.

  “Right,” Carmen agreed, prying open her milk carton and stuffing a straw inside. “And the test results are in. I failed miserably.”

  Since that day two weeks ago when Logan had appeared at the clinic with Juan in tow, Carmen had seen him almost every day. He’d either been waiting for her after work at the hospital or at the clinic.

  Always, he was solicitous and sensitive. Always, he left her at her door with a bone-melting kiss and a promise to see her the next day.

  She had stopped trying to keep her involvement with him a secret from Barb. Logan’s appearances at the end of each shift pretty well told the tale.

  And the tale, as it were, was building in conflict and tension.

  “I’d say the man is smitten,” Barb concluded, backing the wisdom of what she called her advanced years with a definitive nod of her head.

  “I’d say the man is bored with his rich-man toys and is looking for a new experience with someone from the working class,” Carmen returned grumpily.

  “You know you don’t believe that,” Barb insisted, forking up a mouthful of something neither of them had been able to identify in the cafeteria line, but only Barb had been adventurous enough to add to her tray. “You’ll never get me to believe it either. He’s a nice man—emphasis on man,” she added with a moony-eyed shiver. “And the man has got it bad.”

  “Then why all these advance-and-retreat tactics?”

  If frustration were a disease, she’d have died from it. Barb, however, was relishing every event as it unfolded.

  “Well, the way I’ve got it figured,” Barb said, “he’s giving you the time to come to terms with the idea of the two of you together.”

  “Come to terms?”

  “As in ‘How does the little Chicana girl from the projects reconcile the differences between herself and Houston’s millionaire heartthrob?’”

  And there, in a gold-plated nutshell, was the meat of her dilemma. Carmen slumped back in her chair with a big sigh. “Okay, Obi Won Kenobi, how does she see her way past those differences?”

  “By accepting your attraction as a woman and your value. You have a lot to offer a man, Carmen. Face it,” she continued meaningfully, “you’re the one hung up on the superficial differences between you.”

  “Superficial differences? We’re talking heritage here. We’re talking vastly differing positions on the social ladder. Barb, the man’s very existence is totally intimidating to me.”

  “The man? The man, Carmen? You’re not intimidated by the man. You’re intimidated by the man’s image. And that’s your problem, not his. There is nothing intimidating about Logan Prince—unless you count the way he looks at you.” She waved her hand as if fanning an invisible flame. “I’ve got to tell you, the way those looks sizzle, when he finally does take you to bed, you are going to be in for one dy-no-mite time.”

  “And what if that’s all there is to this?” Carmen asked, working hard at hiding her insecurity. “What if it’s just sex?”

  Rolling her eyes, Barb leaned forward, a sympathetic smile on her face. “Sometimes a girl gets lucky and the sex is only as important as the feelings a man and a woman have for each other. That’s one thing I haven’t heard yet, by the way. What kind of feelings do you have for this guy?”

  Carmen looked away.

  “Whoa. That bad, huh?”

  Carmen shrugged. “There’s a fool born every minute and all that.”

  Though Barb was silent, Carmen was aware that she was watching her. “So,” Barb began after a long moment. “When do you see him again? The usual nightly chauffeur service?”

  She shook her head. “He had to go out of town on business. But he’ll be back tomorrow and wants to take me out to dinner.”

  “And that upsets you?”

  It made her crazy. The proof of how crazy was the state of her nerves by 6:45 the next evening as she dressed for her dinner date with Logan. She was edgy and anxious and wondering not only where the night, but their relationship would go.

  Though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t, she’d taken great pains with her appearance. And while she’d also told herself she was dressing for herself, she knew she was dressing for him.

  The man was manipulative, she decided as she twisted in front of her mirror to get a back view of the dress she’d chosen. He hadn’t asked her to wear her hair down, but he’d made it clear that he liked it that way. He hadn’t asked her to wear red either, but she knew he liked seeing her in the color.

  She’d blown some of her grocery money on the dress and the sinfully sheer satin-and-lace undergarments beneath it. Made of shimmery, elegant silk, the vibrant red long-sleeved shirtwaist was saved from being too simple by the deep V of its wrap bodice and the slim skirt that was slit in front from midcalf to above the knee. A gold jeweled belt buckle and gold hoop earrings were her only accessories. Her cologne was the only reminder of who she was and helped to keep her grounded.

  When his knock sounded on her door, however, and her heart lurched in response, she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel like she was walking on solid ground again. And when she saw the look in his eyes as she opened the door and he gave her a slow, heated once-over, solid ground ceased to be an issue, because suddenly she wasn’t certain if she could even walk.

  “The thing about you, Carmen,” Logan said after he’d found his voice and was confident he could string more than two words together into some semblance of a coherent thought, “is that just when I think I’ve seen every facet of you, you show me another.”

  “Another facet?” she echoed, sounding achingly breathless and touchingly uncertain.

  She still didn’t know how beautiful she was, he realized as he watched her. She did not accept her desirability. For two solid weeks, and at great cost to his own sanity and self-control, he’d been kissing her senseless, leaving her wanting. The way he wanted. The way he needed. It had all been a prelude to tonight.

  He’d quit fighting his motives the afternoon he’d spent with her and Juan. He’d quit denying the truth. He was in love with this woman. And if that mind-bending revelation hadn’t been enough, he was also determined to make her a part of his life.

  For the past two weeks he’d been laying the groundwork to introduce her to that love, to introduce her to his life.

  “Another facet, Carmen,” he repeated, touching a hand to her glorious mane of hair. “Like a diamond. Every time I look at you, I catch another glittering angle, another play of light, another glimmer of your rare and electrifying beauty.”

  She blushed.

  “I’m embarrassing you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m not used to hearing things like that.”

  “It makes you uncomfortable?” At her sheepish look he smiled. “Then try this on for size. Carmen Rodriquez, you are one hot mama.”

  Her unguarded, sexy laugh did amazing things to cut the tension between them.

  “Now, that I can deal with. And speaking of hot” — she gave his black tux and tie an appreciative onceover— “you’re looking pretty impressive yourself.”

  He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “We aim to please.”

  She retrieved her purse from the end table and rejoined him at the door. “Then by all means, let’s get this show on the road. I didn’t dress like this for nothing, you know. I expect to be wined and dined and then some.”

  With his hand riding possessively on her back, Logan walked her down the hall. The “and then some” played a predominant part in his plans for the evening.

  Houston lay at Carmen’s feet like a velvet black blanket studded with glittering diamonds. She leaned against the railing on the balcony of Logan’s penthouse, breathing in the sultry Texas breeze that played with the clinging silk of her dress. A brass wind chime sang softly from some distant corner of the terrace.

  Brushing a strand of hair away from her face, she smiled and accepted the glass of wine Logan offered.

  When he smiled in return, she was taken, as always, by his physical presence. He called her beautiful. Yet if ever an adjective fit, the word fit him. From the rakishly thick wealth of his wheat-colored hair, to the uncompromising lines of his lean, angular face, to the blue of his eyes that tonight were the shade of a slow, seductive flame, he was a beautiful, desirable man.

  Still wearing his black jacket, but with the top three studs of his shirt undone and his tie hanging loose around his neck, he looked approachably mussed and decidedly male. Undeniably attentive.

  “You’re very quiet. Are you having second thoughts?”

  Second, third. Carmen smiled. Up here, alone with him, away from the rest of the world, anything seemed possible. Up here, alone with him, everything seemed right.

  She sipped her wine, looking back into the night and the city thirty stories below. It was what happened down there that had her running scared.

  “I wanted you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

  She knew he was watching her. “I did. Very much.”

  “But . . .” he prompted. When she didn’t respond, he pressed her. “I hear a qualifier in there, Carmen. But what? Tell me what went wrong.”

  Where did she start? With the elite restaurant he’d taken her to, where she’d felt as out of place as a water spot on Waterford crystal? With the business associates who had stopped by their table, politely satisfying their curiosity while carefully concealing their surprise at seeing him with a woman who was outside their circle? With one particularly stunning woman who had blatantly followed her to the ladies’ room and with veiled comments and not-so-veiled innuendos, let her know she was outclassed and outgunned?

  “Carmen . . .”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “Carmen, what did Victoria say to you tonight?”

  “Nothing. Nothing I didn’t already know.” Very slowly she turned her head and looked at him. “She simply pointed out the fact that I don’t belong with you. That I don’t belong here. And she was right. You’re only deluding yourself if you think that I do.”

  “What I think,” he said, facing her squarely, “is that you’re the one woman who can make a difference in my life. What I think,” he continued, cupping her face gently in his hand, “is that nothing anyone else says matters. The only words that matter are the ones that pass between us. Say the words, Carmen,” he whispered, drawing her slowly toward him, “say the words I want to hear.”

  CHARADE

  Cindy Gerard

  NINE

  Her eyes glittered, their darkness and vast beauty rivaled only by the star-studded sky. In their shimmering depths Logan saw the reflection of his own fierce longing. In the part of him that housed his awakening heart, he felt a love he’d never thought he’d harbor.

  He knew he’d taken a risk tonight, exposing her to Houston’s elite. But it was a risk that had to be taken if she were to become a part of his life.

  She’d handled the assessing glances and veiled surprise as he’d known she would: With dignity and pride and a regal presence she wasn’t aware she commanded. It was only now, when the ordeal was behind her, that she was letting the doubts creep back in.

  He knew how to assuage them. Fair play or foul, he had every intention of doing so.

  Lowering his head to hers, he touched his lips to the curve of her jaw. She shivered sweetly, whether in surrender or resistance, he neither knew nor cared. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with her doubts. Tonight he was going to show her what really mattered.

  “Say the words, Carmen,” he whispered again, spreading his fingers wide along her throat and sipping his way to her mouth.

  He tipped her head back to give himself better access to the soft underside of her jaw and breathed in her intoxicating fragrance. Her lashes brushed like Spanish lace against her cheeks as he touched his mouth to the corner of hers, seeking admittance.

  When her lips parted, he drew her lower lip between his teeth. He nipped her lightly, then soothed her tender flesh with the slow stroke of his tongue.

  “Say the words.”

  An intimate brush of his hips against her belly, an erotic promise at the delicate shell of her ear, made her sigh tremulously. With a moan of surrender, she moved against him like summer mist, all quivering, giving woman.

  On a low, ragged groan, he folded her into his arms for a deep, drugging kiss. She tasted of temptation and desire, excitement and passion, and a longing made fragile by her vulnerability.

  With his hand still caressing her throat, he broke the kiss and searched her eyes. And in her eyes he found the answer he needed.

  The words he craved suddenly ceased to matter. What she told him without them was everything he needed to know. What she showed him with her body was the only response he required.

  Tucking her protectively against his side, he walked her from the balcony, through the penthouse, to his bedroom. When they stopped beside his bed, his hoarse whisper sounded strained, even to his own ears. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

  “Yes.” A breathless confirmation. A guileless affirmation.

  The delicate beat of her pulse fluttered fast and wild along the slender column of her throat. He leaned to press a kiss there, a kiss that turned into a lengthy caress of lips and teeth and tongue. He felt a shiver that answered his own run though her. Felt the weakness of his own control as well.

  “I thought you were an angel,” he admitted as he framed her face in his hands, then threaded his fingers through the heavy satin of her hair. “The first time I saw you. I thought I was dreaming. Sometimes . . .” He stopped and swallowed hard as he lowered his hands to the jeweled buckle of her belt. “Sometimes I still wonder if I am.”