“Only a little. Okay, these little pots have herbs in them. Basil and rosemary, because of how they smell. I know you’re not much for the cooking thing. Always keep rosemary in its own container, because it has designs on taking over the world. Then these two are flowers. Miniature roses. They’re surprisingly easy to take care of and I love the colors.”

“Okay.”

She waited, hoping for more. She knew he wasn’t excited about the plants, but could he accept them?

“What?” he asked.

“You could pretend to be interested.”

“Would you believe me?”

“I’d try.”

He sighed. “They’re great. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She tugged on his hand again. “Come see the kittens. Two of them have their eyes open.”

He allowed her to lead him to the other side of the room. Jasmine meowed when she saw him, rose, stretched and jumped out of the box.

Kane bent down and petted her. Willow watched and wished he were petting her instead. Not that she wanted the underside of her chin scratched, but there were other lonely places.

“So how was your trip?” she asked when he’d straightened.

“Fine.”

“Coffee?”

He hesitated, then said, “Sure.”

Once they were in the kitchen, she poured in water and reached into the refrigerator for the bag of coffee.

“I was very good while you were gone,” she said as she measured grounds. “I didn’t look in anything. No drawers, no cupboards, nothing.”

“Then how did you know where I keep my coffee?”

She smiled smugly. “I saw you get it when I was here before. On second thought, I wasn’t good, I was perfect.”

“How hard was it?”

She flipped on the coffeemaker. “Pretty hard, but I have character and backbone. Plus, I gave my word and I try to respect that.”

He stared down at her. She felt the intensity of his gaze all the way to her toes. Was there fire flickering there or was that wishful thinking on her part?

“How many other guys have there been?” he asked. “Guys like Chuck?”

Not the direction she wanted for this conversation. “A couple.”

He continued to look at her.

“A few,” she added. “Maybe more than a few.”

“You try to fix them all?”

“Pretty much, but sometimes it works. Look at Chuck. He owns a Jiffy Lube. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I’m nearly faint with shock,” Kane said dryly. “Are you still planning to rescue me?”

“You know, I was just thinking about that. The thing is, you don’t really need rescuing. Your life is fairly together. Except for the whole alone thing. That’s unfortunate.”

“Maybe I like the silence.”

“No one wants to be alone all the time. Admit it—you kind of liked having me here when you got home.”

“Sure. Pulling up and seeing some guy prepared to slap you was great fun.”

“Oh, yeah.” She’d forgotten about that part. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

“I’m sure he did.” Kane moved closer. “You’re a danger to yourself. You get involved and then you don’t know how to get uninvolved. You need to work on that.”

She felt the heat from his body. She supposed she could have been intimidated by him—after all he was looming. But this was Kane. He was strong and powerful, but she believed down to her bones all she had to do was say no and he would stop. He was so confident, he could afford to be gracious. Not that he would ever think of himself as gracious and he’d be annoyed to know she did.

“Are you going to fix me?” she asked, meeting his gaze and catching her breath at the fire she saw burning there. The glorious, hungry need was back.

“You’re beyond fixing.”

“You could try.”

“I have other things in mind.”

Yeah! She reached over and turned off the coffeepot. “Are you going to give me that speech again? The one about you never calling and how it’s only for tonight and to have no expectations because you’re only going to break my heart?”

He hesitated so long, she wanted to call the words back. She knew he was violating his rules and maybe pushing him would cause him to have second thoughts. Then he spoke. “No.”

Her heart jumped, her sides began that melting thing and she wanted to rip off her clothes right there in the kitchen.

“Really?” Her voice was a squeak.

“Really.”

He leaned in, about to kiss her. She put her fingers on his mouth.

“Would you have beat up Chuck?”

“If he’d touched you.”

“You mean if he’d hurt me?”

He gaze sharpened. “No. If he’d touched you.”

Then he kissed her.

His mouth was hot and firm and soft and she wanted to give him everything. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her against him.

He was already hard and she squirmed to get closer, to feel all of him, especially his need.

He cupped her face in both hands, then deepened the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, claiming her with an intensity that excited her.

“What is it about you?” he asked, his voice low and thick. “Why can’t I get you out of my head?”

“I’m pretty irresistible,” she said with a grin.

He raised his head and gazed into her eyes, but he wasn’t smiling. “Yes, you are.”

He bent down, gathered her in his arms and carried her toward the bedroom. Once there, he set her on her feet and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Tell me if you want this,” he said.

He had to ask? How cute. “I want you, Kane.”

He shuddered, then reached for her. She flung herself at him and when their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to knee, she felt as if she’d finally found her way home.

He touched her everywhere. His fingers explored her back, her hips, before lightly touching her arms. She both longed for the contact and wished he would touch her elsewhere—her breasts, between her legs, the places that ached.

Instead he drew her sweater over her head and leaned in to press his mouth to her shoulders. He licked and kissed and nipped, leaving goose bumps and tingles in his wake. He moved up her neck, along her jaw, then jumped to her earlobe where he bit down and sucked.

She had to cling to him to remain standing. Her legs trembled, her thighs nearly caught fire. Hunger consumed her, making her want to be reckless. She tugged at his tie and managed to loosen the knot, then she went to work on the buttons down the front of his shirt.

Her good intentions faded away when he placed his hands on her breasts. He cupped her curves and used his thumbs to tease her tight, aching nipples. Her eyes sank closed as sensation washed through her. Oh, yeah, that was good.

Around and around, arousing her until she found it hard to keep breathing. Then he made it more difficult by kissing her.

While his tongue mated with hers, he dropped one hand to the waistband of her black slacks. Seconds later he’d unfastened the button and lowered the zipper. Then his fingers were between her thighs and all coherent thought fled her brain.

There was only the moment and man and the magic he created. The way he immediately found her most sensitive spot and began courting it. He circled and stroked, moving closer, then away. Teasing, exciting until she wanted to grab his wrist and force him to get to it.

But she didn’t. The anticipation was too sweet.

He continued to touch her and kiss her. With his free hand, he reached behind her and opened her bra. One-handed—a great trick.

She lowered her arms so the scrap of lace could fall to the floor, then caught her breath as he ducked down and took her right nipple in his mouth.

Exquisite desire coiled through her, pulsing with each gentle suck of his lips. His tongue flicked against her tight tip, perfectly matching the arousing massage between her legs. She felt herself tensing, reaching, wanting.

“Kane,” she breathed. “I can’t hold back.”

Which was, apparently, the wrong thing to say, because he stopped. Before she could protest, he’d taken off her shoes, her slacks, her socks and her panties. When she was na**d, he made quick work of his own clothes, grabbed a condom, then led her to the bed.

After she’d stretched out on the bed, he knelt between her legs and pressed an openmouthed kiss against her center.

She remembered him doing this last time—how great he’d made her feel, the ease with which she’d found her release. Now she let herself relax into the sensations he drew out from her.

Need coiled deep within her, making her muscles tense, her body strain. She dug her heels into the bed and thrust herself toward him.

Closer and closer she spiraled. Up and up, with the soft stroke of his tongue driving her nearer to her goal. Waves of heat washed over her, the sound of her rapid breathing filled the quiet of the night.

“Almost,” she gasped as he moved faster. “Almost.”

And then she was there. Her body shuddered and quaked and she gave herself up to the pleasure. Over and over the contractions swept through her, making her moan and savor and smile. It was good—it was better than good. It was practically a miracle.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her. “You’re really good at that,” she murmured.

“I’m inspired.”

While she’d been basking, he’d put on his condom. She reached between them and guided him inside, then sucked in a breath as she felt another little tingle. Talk about a great way to end the day.

She wrapped her legs around his h*ps and drew him in closer. He supported himself on his forearms and stared into her eyes as he filled her, then retreated. Over and over, still looking at her, exposing himself as he got closer.

Willow didn’t break the contact. She saw the fire of his need and something else. Something dark and broken that called to her. His heart? His soul?

Her heart trembled at the idea of this lonely man sharing so much with her. Had anyone else ever seen inside?

She had no answer for the question, then even the questions were gone as the power of his body brought her once again to the brink. Her muscles tensed as she strained to reach her release.

Each thrust filled her, pushing her closer until she cried out and gave in. Involuntarily she closed her eyes, then he lost himself in her and they were still.

Kane sat in the living room, a drink in his hand. It was well after midnight and the house was still. Even the damn cat was asleep.

A single small lamp in the corner cast more shadows than light, but that suited his mood.

He’d broken his own rules. Rules he’d put in place after caring about someone…a woman…had nearly got him killed. Wasn’t being shot in the gut and left for dead enough of a message? Why would he risk this again? Connecting, getting involved only made him weak. He had to stay strong—it was the only way to stay alive.

A logical argument, he thought. Except he couldn’t be logical—not when he was talking about Willow.

He couldn’t say why she was the one to get to him. Why her and not the one before or the one to come after? What combination of features and body language and scent and sound made him want to forget what he knew was right?

But it was her, and he didn’t know how to escape the trap. She haunted him. Even when he was thousands of miles away, he’d remembered her.

He stared at the large package on the coffee table. With his business in New York complete and several hours before his flight, Kane had done something he’d never done before…gone shopping.

The act hadn’t been conscious. He’d left his lunch meeting and started walking. But instead of heading for his hotel and then the airport, he’d gone north, toward the exclusive shops with their trendy window displays. He’d looked in them, ignoring clothes and jewelry, looking for what he wasn’t sure. Until he’d found it.

A large tote bag covered in plants. It was bright and cheerful and ridiculously expensive, yet the second he’d seen it, he’d known it should be hers. He’d bought it and brought it home and now he was stuck with it.

He should send it back, he thought as he took another sip of his drink. He could pretend he’d never bought it in the first place. Only he wasn’t very good at fooling himself.

So what did he do now? Give it to her? He knew what she would think, what it would mean to her. That he thought she mattered, and she didn’t. She couldn’t. To care about someone meant to risk that person destroying him. He’d already nearly died once because of a woman—he saw no need to do it again.

Willow cut up vegetables for the salad. Marina opened the oven for the four hundredth time and stared at the bread.

“Is it browning? It doesn’t look like it’s browning,” Maria said.

Julie looked at Willow, then rolled her eyes. “You’re the science whiz in this family,” she said. “So you’re the one who should know that every time you open the oven, you’re letting out heat. At this rate, the poor thing is never going to brown. Close the door and step away from the oven.”

“I know.” Marina did as her sister had said. “But I’ve never baked bread before. I want it to turn out right.”

Willow looked at the bowls and measuring cups stacked in the sink. “What got into you?”

“We’re having all our favorites for dinner. I thought homemade bread would be a nice addition.”

It was Saturday and Willow and her sisters were at their mother’s house. Naomi was off volunteering at yet another low-cost clinic with Dr. Greenberg, so her daughters had decided they would provide dinner.