His fingers gripped hers painfully. "My God, don't say things like that when I'm driving, I'll wreck the damned car," he growled.

  She laughed softly. "How very flattering, Mr. Everett," she said with a saucy glance.

  "Remember what I told you back home, Heather? You'd better be prepared to deal with the consequences when you flirt with me. Or have you already forgotten what happened last night?"

  "Nothing happened," she grumbled.

  "By the skin of your teeth," he agreed tightly. If Tessa hadn't knocked on the door . . ." What were you going to do?" she teased.

  His eyes met hers. "Make love to you," he said quietly, watching the scarlet blush that belied her attempt at nonchalance.

  She felt her heart going wild and she could hardlycatch her breath. "My, it's hot outside," she murmured in a strangled tone, fanning herself with a brochure she found next to her on the seat.

  Cole chuckled softly, watching her as he stopped in front of the wrought-iron gate. "Giving up?" he asked.

  "You're out of my league," she admitted.

  "You'll catch up." He got out and unlocked the tall gates. Minutes later he parked the car beside the house, a huge and lovely white stone structure with green shutters and a long front porch that seemed to go all the way around it. Beyond the house, which was surrounded by banana and mango trees, the beach stretched out with sea-grape trees growing gnarled and strangely beautiful along it.

  "Gorgeous," Heather breathed, stepping out of the car to gaze at the beauty of the aqua crystal water.

  "And there aren't any tourists," Cole mused.

  He unlocked the door and Heather went into the cool, spacious guest bedroom to change. The white bikini was modest, but she still wished she'd brought a beach robe. It was too late now. She borrowed a white towel from the bathroom in the guest room and went outside to meet Cole on the beach.

  It had been a long time since she'd seen him in bathing trunks. She wasn't prepared for the effect the sight of him had on her. He was leaning back against the trunk of a sea-grape tree smoking a cigarette, and she couldn't take her eyes off him. His broad chest was hair-matted, tapering down to a flat, muscular stomach and powerful, hair-covered legs. He had an athlete's body, one that would have drawn feminine eyes anywhere, and just looking at him made Heather go weak-kneed.

  He turned, sensing the scrutiny, and his silver eyes narrowed as they ran down her slender body in the bikini. He bent to crush out his cigarette and moved toward her.

  "The sun's hot," she said quickly to disguise her nervousness.

  "You'll burn, baby," he said quietly. "Did you think to bring some tanning lotion?"

  She shook her head. She couldn't hold his intense gaze, and dropped her eyes to his broad, bronzed chest.

  "Hey," he said gently.

  She let her eyes skim reluctantly up to his and saw a faint smile in them.

  "I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do," he told her, his voice deep and soft and slow. "So don't start tensing up on me. All right?"

  She forced a smile to her lips. "It's so new ..."

  He touched her cheek lightly, and then her mouth, smiling down at her. "Swim with me," he said.

  She let him take her hand and lead her into the swirling water. It was surprisingly warm and she could see the bottom. Stroking lazily through the water, she got lost in the sensation of swimming, of peace, of carefree enjoyment and gave herself up to the sea and the sun. When Cole suddenly surfaced beside her, Heather splashed water at him, watching a rare smile bare his even white teeth. It was a revelation to see him so relaxed, and she laughed at the teasing glint in his silver eyes as he sprayed the salty water back at her.

  "Brute!" she accused, slinging her long, wet hair back from her eyes with a quick hand.

  "Witch," he returned, and ducked his head to swim straight for her.

  She squealed delightedly and tried to swim away, panicked, sunk, and felt his hands catch at her. She twisted away from him, laughing, too full of excitement and pleasure to notice that the jerking motion had loosened the ties of her bikini top. It wasn't until she made a forward dive that she felt the suit pull free as her body surged forward.

  She stopped in the shoulder-deep water, gasping, watching the white halter top wash away toward the beach on a swelling wave.

  "Just try to get away now," a gruff voice teased, and she felt Cole's hair-roughened arms catch her from behind. He had passed them around her waist to jerk her body back against his in the cool, soft water.

  "Cole!" she burst out, trying to struggle free. As his forearms rode up a fraction, he immediately understood the reason for her outburst.

  His hands moved abruptly down to her waist. "Where is it?" he asked, his amusement evident.

  She sighed nervously, crossing her arms over her chest. "Halfway to Nassau, I imagine," she said with a jerky laugh.

  "Stay here. I'll see if it washed up on the beach."

  He swam away, leaving her worrying about what they'd do if he didn't find it. She couldn't possibly walk out of the water half-naked in front of Cole. And she had only the towel as a cover-up. Perhaps she could get him to bring it out and let her wrap it. . .

  But that wouldn't be necessary after all, she noticed with a relieved smile. Cole was bending over, scooping up something dainty and white at the edge of the beach, and diving back into the water with it. Seconds later, a black head broke the surface beside her, and he pushed his hair back with a heavy sigh as he handed her the missing article.

  "The authorities here are liberal," he remarked dryly, "but not that liberal."

  She blushed, fumbling with the silly thing. She couldn't seem to get her fingers to work at all.

  "Let me," he said gently, moving in front of her. "It's not the end of the world if I catch a glimpse of you."

  His fingers, deft, confident, drew the top in place and he reached around her to fasten the ties in back. His eyes looked down into hers, searching, quiet, and his fingers suddenly stilled at her back. He didn't move. He seemed to have stopped breathing, and Heather could feel her own heartbeat shaking her as she met that steady, intense gaze.

  "Heather . . ." he said quietly, bending.

  She met him halfway, lifting her soft mouth to his.

  His lips parted hers softly, gently, and there was nothing of passion in the kiss. Only a strange, new tenderness.

  He drew away, meeting her confused gaze, the control he was exercising apparent in his taut features. The glittering silver of his eyes belied his composed expression. "Stand still," he murmured, making a knot in the ties at her back before he reached up to make another at her nape, his fingers cool and deft and steady as he secured the halter in place. "My God, I've never kissed a woman like that," he said under his breath.

  "Should I be flattered or insulted?" she murmured, her soft eyes openly flirting with his.

  One eye narrowed as he looked down at her arrogantly. "How would you like me to untie these strings and start over again?"

  She smiled, lost in the newness of being confident with him. "I'm not afraid of you."

  "Said Red Riding Hood to the wolf," he murmured darkly.

  "I know what you would have done if you'd been that wolf looking at Red Riding Hood from under the covers," she told him.

  "I'll bet you do," he murmured back, one corner of his mouth lifting. "You'll take a lot of teaching, though, little Red."

  "I could always get that Frenchman to help. ..." she suggested.

  He caught her small waist and jerked her against him. "I'll teach you," he corrected, dropping a rough, hard kiss on her mouth.

  "What will I need to know?" she asked in a breathless whisper.

  His even white teeth nipped gently at the soft curve of her lower lip. "Not now," he whispered, smiling against the telltale trembling of her mouth. "It's broad daylight, and this is a pretty public place."

  She met his dancing eyes. "And if it wasn't. . . broad daylight, and a pretty public place?"

  He let her go. "Wait until tonight and I'll show you."

  Her heart skipped a beat as she swam along beside him, barely able to keep pace with his long, graceful strokes. "Cole, are we having supper with Emma and Tessa?" she asked quietly.

  "We're having it here, didn't I tell you?" He grinned at her stunned expression. "I've hired a caterer for the evening."

  "Just for us?" she asked.

  "For the two of us." He caught her hand and pulled her in to the beach with him, letting her sink down on a towel. He tossed her a smaller one to dry off with. "Were you in a hurry to get back?" he asked.

  She smiled. "I thought you might be." Tessa doesn't have any claim on me, Heather, he said, all the humor gone out of his face. : one."

  "You've spent a lot of time with her lately," she remarked, avoiding his piercing gaze.

  "Yes, I have," he said noncommittally. He glanced sideways at her, his eyes laughing at the expression on her face. "Jealous?"

  Her eyes met his and turned away toward the jeweled sparkle of the Caribbean. "Isn't it lovely here?" she asked in an enthusiastic tone.

  "Lovely," he agreed, leaning back on his elbow. But he was watching Heather.

  It was the most romantic supper Heather could ever remember. A table had been set up on the patio overlooking the Caribbean; the moonlight made silver shadows on her face; and the soft, warm breeze brushed against her bare arms and lifted her hair away from her shoulders.

  Both of them were strangely silent, as if the tension she'd felt all day had transmitted itself somehow to Cole. He watched her quietly over the excellent Napoleon brandy he'd ordered as an after-dinner drink. His silver eyes glittered under the disheveled dark hair that fell over his brow, and he looked alarmingly masculine in a blue silk shirt that was open to the waistband of his white trousers. She had to drag her eyes away from him time and time again. She knew she'd remember this day with him, the magic of being alone with him, as long as she lived. As long as she loved him. Forever.

  "You're very quiet," he remarked, his deep voice disturbing the quiet of the softly scented night.

  She peeked at him over her brandy snifter and smiled shyly. "I'm enjoying the silence."

  "So am I." He leaned back in the chair, resting his arm over the smooth mahogany back, and sighed. "God, I can't remember a time in my life when I needed a break so much. I'm glad you aren't one of those damned chattering females."

  She smiled at him. "I thought you liked sophisticated, witty women."

  He chuckled drily. "They do have their uses," he agreed, his eyes twinkling at the blush that flamed on her cheeks.

  'You are the most outrageous man . . ." she told him.

  "Is the journalist outrageous?" he asked, narrow-eyed.

  "Gil?" She smiled, shaking her head. "He likes to think he's something of a ladies' man, but he's really quite a shy, introverted person. He uses his smile like a shield."

  He swirled the brandy in his glass. "You use your innocence the same way," he remarked quietly. "And it isn't necessary, not with me."

  She chewed nervously at her lower lip and brushed a wisp of silvery hair away from her eyes. "I feel vulnerable with you," she admitted, clutching her glass with cool fingers as she let her eyes flicker up to his. "I've always been very cool with men up until now, I never got carried away. But when you touch me ..." She flushed, shocked by her own admission.

  "Don't be embarrassed," he said quietly. There was no mockery in his eyes now.

  She caught her breath. "You used to be forever warning me about how dangerous men could be when they got excited," she reminded him. "So I've always been careful not to stir anyone up."

  He laughed softly, both tender amusement and fierce possessiveness in his eyes. "Even me?" he probed.

  "Especially you," she murmured, feeling the heat in her face. "I ... I know how you are with a woman . . . now."

  He studied the rim of his glass reflectively before his eyes went back to hers. "Do you like the way I am . . . with a woman?" he asked quietly.

  Her pulse went wild. The glass trembled slightly in her hand and she put it down quickly. "I, uh, I think I'll go and watch the waves for a little while," she said evasively, "before we have to go back."

  He stood up, too, and she knew without looking back that he was right behind her when she went down to the edge of the beach. She had left her shoes behind at the table, and she ran barefoot through the sand, playing tag with the soft, swirling foam of the sea.

  He watched her quietly from the trunk of a sea-grape tree, smoking a cigarette, his eyes glittering as they took in the picture she made in her pale yellow dress, her hair flying, her skirts swirling as she danced along the damp sand in the moonlight. She was as beautiful as a fairy, as graceful as a ballerina. Perfect.

  She went back to him laughing, her hair dancing on the sea breeze. She was exhilarated by the sea and the surf and the night and by being with Cole in the darkness. "Why don't you come, too?" she asked, laughing up at him. "You old stick in the mud, it's fun!"

  He smiled patiently, his lean body the picture of elegance as he lounged lazily against the gnarled trunk of the tree. "When I finish my cigarette," he told her.

  She stretched happily, winding her arms behind her head, her eyes closing as she savored the night. "I don't think I've ever enjoyed a day more."

  "I know I haven't. And it isn't over yet," he added quietly.

  She turned, meeting his eyes, and what she read in them froze her. She stood there in front of him in the silvery moonlight with her heart pounding madly. The verbal jousting they'd engaged in all day had been fun, but it was over, she read that in his face. He was ready to collect on all those teasing promises she'd been making, and quite suddenly all her bravado disappeared.

  "Don't panic," he murmured as he threw down his cigarette and moved closer. "We'll go at your pace."

  "It's . . . it's getting late," she burst out when he took her in his arms.

  "Heather," he whispered gently, "I'm not going to force you."

  She licked her dry lips and looked up at him helplessly, her fingers trembling where they rested on the silky fabric of his shirt. "I'm such a coward," she admitted with a nervous smile.

  "And I'm trying so hard not to be."

  "Would it help if I let you make the first move?" he asked quietly.

  She reached up and touched his very sensual mouth with her fingertips. Then she looked straight into his narrowed eyes. "How far do you want to go?" she asked in a whisper.

  Some hint of violence flashed in his eyes and with a harsh, muffled curse he caught her waist and pushed her roughly away from him. He turned, ramming his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his profile brooding as he stared out to sea.

  Heather watched him, puzzled, hurt by his sudden rejection. "Cole, what's wrong?" she asked hesitantly, reaching out a hand toward him, only to let it fall when his glittering eyes flicked toward her before he turned them back to the sparkling gleam of moonlight on the Caribbean.

  He pulled another cigarette out of his shirt pocket and took his time lighting it. Then he took a deep, hard draw, the cigarette's tip glowing Orange in the moonlit darkness. "What, exactly, do you think I want from you?" he asked, banked-down fury in every soft word. "A passionate roll in the sand? What the hell makes you think I'd get anything out of making love to a very nervous virgin?"

  She gaped at him. "You're making it sound sordid," she accused miserably.

  "No. You are." He turned around and looked at her, his face like stone, anger in every tense line of it. "Asking me in that prim little voice how far I want to go . . . my God, I didn't bring you out here to seduce you!"

  "Then . . . what do you want?" she faltered.

  He sighed angrily before he turned away. "I don't know." His eyes narrowed on the sea. "God help me, I don't know." He shifted, flicking open the buttons of his shirt to let the breeze caress his bronzed torso. "I love my freedom."

  She moved to stand beside him, her eyes watchful, wary. He looked immovable, with the moonlight shining on his dark hair, and she'd never loved him more. "I don't see the problem," she said quietly, forcing a smile to her mouth. "I haven't asked you to give up your freedom."

  He laughed shortly. "You don't see the problem." He threw the cigarette into the surf and whirled, shooting out his lean hand to catch her waist and slam her body against his with a force that took her breath away. "Then let me show it to you, my dear," he ground out, his mouth crushing down on hers.

  He had her off balance, and she had to hold on to his broad shoulders to keep from going over backwards. His mouth was angry, and he hurt her. She remembered her first encounter with him, the shock of his touch, and it was like reliving that kiss all over again. She could feel the tension in him, the pent-up desire that must find release. The only sounds in the sweet, lush darkness were the watery murmur of the surf and Cole's harsh breathing while he kissed her.

  "Please," she whispered when he relented for an instant. "You're hurting . . ."

  His breath came hard; his eyes were strangely dark. "I want you," he ground out, and his lean hands slid down her back to her hips, drawing her against his powerful legs until the warmth of his body seemed to burn against every trembling inch of hers. "Do you hear me, Heather?" he asked, his voice a husky growl. "I want you. That's the problem. Every day I come closer to doing something about it, and the day I do will be the end of everything for me."

  She stared up at him helplessly. "But, you wouldn't..."

  "Take you?" He smiled, but it wasn't pleasant. "Don't kid yourself. I told you at the beginning that I wasn't in my dotage. Hungry men get dangerous, honey, and I've never been this hungry in my life. Can't you understand? You're not safe with me anymore. You're not thirteen, and I'm not your brother. I'm a man, and this is what happens when I kiss you." He caught her hand and pressed it into the damp thicket of hair over his muscular chest, where the force of his heartbeat was making his hard body shudder. He bent and brushed his lips against hers with a teasing, tantalizing pressure that made her ache for something harder, deeper.