She heard tapping at her back door and wondered if Ray Anne needed something or if someone was looking for flowers. But she opened the door to Matt’s frowning but so handsome face.

“If you don’t want me in your life anymore, you have to tell me to my face,” he said.

She laughed and stepped back so he could come in.

“That’s funny?” he asked irritably.

“Well, yes. Not talking to a guy never worked for me before. Usually they could care less. I just got home, Matt. You came all this way? I was going to call you.”

“You were?”

“I said I would,” she told him. “And there is no reason I wouldn’t. You came all this way because I got a new phone number?”

“I came all this way because I have to apologize,” he said.

Again she smiled. Their first dinner together, the beginning of a most unexpectedly lovely relationship, had been about apology. “Since you really excel at apologies, I look forward to it.”

He shut the door behind him, slid an arm around her waist and deftly brought her mouth up to his, kissing her. She was bent over his arm and hung on to his shoulders to keep from crumpling to the floor. His kiss was hot and demanding and delicious. Then he moved, his hands on her face, holding her against him, covering her mouth with an almost desperate heat. Her lips opened for him, and he swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she not only allowed this but welcomed it. She held him close, moaning. Sighing. It was a very long time before he let her go even enough to speak. He panted eagerly.

“Well. You’re pretty messed up,” she said. “We really have to talk. Maybe a little later...” And she went back to his lips, her arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.” Then he sighed and put his lips against her neck, holding her close. “God, I thought you’d given up on me.”

“But you’re the one who disappeared, not me.”

“I know. I know. I’m not good at this, haven’t you figured that out yet?”

She laughed as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty good...” She pulled back a little so she could look into those troubled, coal-black eyes. “I don’t know what you’re holding inside, but if you don’t get it out pretty soon, you’re going to start getting headaches.”

“Worse headaches. How did you know?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t have headaches anymore.” She kissed his cheek tenderly. “If you can’t trust me with whatever it is, there must be someone you can talk to. A priest, maybe?”

He laughed. “Definitely not a priest.” Then he kissed her neck, holding her against him. “I feel better already.” He ran his hand down her back and over her butt. “Much better.”

“Maybe we could sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

He looked down into her eyes. “Can I have something to drink later? Right now all I want is you. And I want you real damn bad.”

“You should have given me a little notice...”

“For what? You feel like velvet and you taste like...hmm. Heaven. What is that smell in your hair? It’s like dessert.”

“Vanilla. I don’t have any birth control...”

His laugh was deep and a little evil. He looked into her eyes again, and his were getting fiery. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “I’m prepared.”

She shook her head. “How does that not surprise me? Don’t most men bring flowers or champagne or chocolates? Okay, forget the flowers...”

“I’ll do that next time. This time—I was in a little panic.”

She pressed herself against him. “I think the panic has passed.”

“Are you ready for this? I’ll be careful. I’ll take good care of you.”

“I trust you, Matt.”

“Then why? Why the phone number thing?”

“After,” she said. “We’ll talk when there’s less distraction.”

“Good idea,” he said, lifting her into his arms. He carried her into the tiny living room, eyed the couch and moved on past it to the bed. He set her down gently, sitting down beside her to kick off his shoes, get rid of his belt and shirt, then turned to take her into his arms again, delivering kisses that were hot and strong. He slid the straps of her dress down over her shoulders, pulled it down and kissed her breasts for a long time. She held his head there, his mouth sucking gently, then not so gently.

She turned into soup. She felt the hot and molten passion inside her flow through her until she was almost aching for him. And that made her squirm. She pulled him down on the bed and reached for his jeans, struggling to find the snap or button or zipper but after a moment of that, he stilled her hands. “Easy,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

“I thought it would be slow,” she said with a shade of embarrassment.

He pulled condoms out of his pocket before tossing the jeans aside. “It’ll be slow next time,” he promised. “Right now I think I should take care of you. Orgasm.” He laughed. “Great icebreaker.”

Her dress came down to her waist, up to her waist, and there she was with a whole bunch of clothing around her waist while everything above and below lay bare to his hungry eyes. “Aw, Ginger, I love those little panties. I think I’ll take them off. With my teeth.”

“No teeth!” she said, laughing.

“Okay, no teeth,” he said. They were white lace, fitting around her hips. He tugged them down and said, “Well now.”

“Natural blonde,” she confirmed.

He got out of his boxers fast. He suited up right away, leaving nothing to chance, then he lay down beside her, brought her into his arms and, kissing her, his hands explored her whole body from her knees to her neck. Finally, frustrated by the cumbersome folds of that discarded sundress, he tugged it lower, down her legs and off. He tossed it. His hands on her were much freer and deeper, and she pushed at him with her hips, so ready. But it was when she tried to close her legs against the pressure of his hand on her that he stopped. He looked into her eyes and said, “Uh-uh. No.” He pushed her legs apart once more and put himself there. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way. You want to come, don’t you, my love?”

She squeezed her eyes closed and just nodded.

“Good idea,” he whispered. “You first.”

He entered her slowly, watching her face the whole time. “Perfect,” he said. “Perfect.” Then he began to move, creatively at first, listening for the response that said he’d found the sweet spot. There was only the slightest whimper but she held his shoulders in a death grip and inhaled sharply. Her heels dug into the bed and she pushed against him. “There it is,” he whispered against her lips. “There it is.” And he slid down her neck to her breasts, licking them and sucking them while he pumped his hips.

Ginger wasn’t sure what hit her—she was full of him. Full and aching and tingling and spiraling, hanging on for dear life, letting go of every other thought and focused only on one thing—let it go, let it go, let it go. And then it came, hot and hard and sweet and she pushed her pelvis against him suddenly, holding him there.