Slowly, Denver rose from the edge of the bed. Yeah, this game would definitely ease any apprehension. "I don't want to wait."

Laughing again, the sound almost a giggle, she ducked to the other side of the dresser. "Now Denver..."

He gave her a wolfish smile. "Come here, Cherry."

Her face heated even as her mouth twitched. "No!" She turned to run but only got a few steps before he scooped her up high, making her screech in surprise.

Going to the bed, he sat down with her draped over his lap.

"Denver!"

"Hush, girl. You'll have the neighbors calling the cops on us." While she alternately laughed and struggled, he flipped up the skirt of her dress. "Lord, you have a nice ass." He cupped one big hand over her. Her skin was so soft, her bottom firm and full.

Cherry stopped fighting him and instead covered her face. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"What about this?" he asked, slipping one finger under the seam of the thong and trailing it down, down, until he could touch her from behind.

"Or that!"

He stroked over her-and found her hot, damp and no longer protesting. He groaned as he carefully pressed into her.

Stiffening, she made a small sound in the back of her throat.

"Come on, Cherry," he crooned to her, his finger now teasing. "Tell me you want me."

Throaty, soft, she whispered, "I want you."

Hearing her say it broke his control. In one quick movement he turned her facedown bent over the end of the high bed. Her heels made it possible for her to plant her feet on the floor-raising up that sexy rump.

"Yeah." He opened his jeans as he strode to the nightstand to grab a condom, returning to her in less than twenty seconds. He pushed the dress up high and moved her miniscule panties to the side, groaning again at the ripe sight of her. With his foot he nudged her legs wider.

"Denver?"

"Stay like that."

Her hands knotted in the quilt.

So hot. "You're mine, Cherry." He planted one hand at the small of her back to keep her still and with the other, he guided himself to her, watching as he entered oh-so slowly, opening her, working his way in.

She shifted on a small moan.

"Okay?"

"Hurry it up."

Clasping her hips between his hands, he thrust into her.

Her legs stiffened and she cried out, but not in discomfort.

She called his name.

"You're mine," he said again, already rushing to the rhythm he knew she liked best.

"I'm yours," she agreed, clenching tight around him.

Neither of them lasted long at all. Denver waited for her, loving the way she moved, the sounds she made, how she strained toward her climax.

The second she tensed in release, he let himself go and joined her. When her legs gave out he dropped over her, crushing her into the bed.

Drowsily, she muttered, "My dress is going to be wrinkled."

"Sorry."

"Don't move just yet."

"No, I won't." He gave them each a full minute to recover before finally dragging himself back to his feet. Cherry didn't move, not even when he stroked her silky behind.

Sex with Cherry was the perfect cure-for everything. He was now so relaxed, he could barely feel his bones.

Smiling, he turned her over and kissed her parted lips. "Get a move on, girl, or we'll be late."

Her response was part laugh, part groan, but she did get up and head to the restroom on wobbly legs. "We'll be late because of you," she complained. "You better start thinking up an excuse, because the truth won't do."

Denver barely held back his laugh. No way could he hide his satisfaction. He loved her. Tonight, no matter what, he had to tell her.

HE HELD HER hand as they went up the walkway to the front door of his family home. It felt familiar, yet strange. In the time he'd been away, the chairs on the front porch had changed, the shutters were a different color and flowers filled the window boxes.

"Are you nervous?" Cherry asked, sounding really nervous herself.

"No." He lifted her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "Thanks to you, I'm as mellow as can be."

She gave him a beautiful smile. "I'm glad."

The door opened before they reached it and both his dad and Pamela stood there. Denver didn't hesitate. Acting as if nothing had changed, he nodded. "Dad. Pamela."

Pamela looked flushed and anxious as she held the door wide. "I'm so glad you both made it."

Cherry shrugged off her nervousness and stepped forward. "Thank you again for including me." She went right up to his dad. "Hello, Mister Lewis." She held out her hand. "It's so nice to meet you."

A smile cracked, and then a full-fledged grin as Lyle Lewis pulled her in for a hug. "It's very nice to meet you, young lady. Cherry, right?"

"Yes, sir." She returned his embrace, then held him away. "Denver's right. You do look much alike."

Lyle's gaze shifted to Denver, and his expression went somber. "Son."

"Dad." He held out his hand, but he, too, got pulled into a hug, this time crushing.

It was the same type of hug he'd gotten after his mother died, when his father struggled so badly.

It surprised Denver, but he didn't mind. He clapped his dad on the back, gave him a second to compose himself, and stepped away.

Pamela flitted around, uncertain, looking like she thought Denver might accuse her at any moment. "Could I get either of you something to drink?"

Gaze averted, Lyle said, "He remembers where the fridge is, honey."

"I'm fine," Denver told her. "Cherry?"

"Maybe just water?"

Before Pamela could leave, his dad spoke up. "I'd like to talk to Denver alone a moment. Why don't you ladies go on out back and we'll be there shortly."

Worried, because Denver didn't want her out of his sight, he turned to Cherry but she was already agreeing. "I'd love to see your home, if that's okay."

As if someone had just given her a reprieve, Pamela jumped to agree. "I'll show you around. We can get to know each other better, then grab some drinks on the way out."

Cherry gave him one last smile before following Pamela from the entry.

"She's charming," Lyle said.

Denver nodded. "Smart, sexy, funny." He gave his dad a direct look. "I'm in love with her."

That brought another smile to Lyle's mouth. "She feels the same about you?"

"I think so. We haven't talked about it yet."

By tacit agreement, they headed for the office. "What's there to talk about? You haven't told her how you feel?"

"Not yet. There's been a lot going on. But we're getting there."

Once in the room, Lyle shut the door and walked to a small built-in fridge. "Can you have a beer?"

"Sure."

"You have a fight coming up, right?"

"Yeah, but one drink won't hurt." Denver accepted the bottle, went to the couch and sat down. The material was different, he realized. Then, looking more closely, he saw that the office had been painted, the large area rug changed.

Watching him, Lyle leaned back on the edge of his desk. "I know, it's all different. Pamela has changed so many things."

"Women like to make things their own." Denver shrugged. "She lives here now." His problem with his stepmother had never been her decorating choices.

No, the problems went a lot deeper than that.

"I still love her," Lyle announced.

Denver thought about shrugging again, but he didn't want to be that disrespectful so he did nothing at all.

"I've made many mistakes," his father added. "I'd just lost my wife, you were grown and didn't need me."

Denver barely kept from making a rude noise. A son always needed his father, but damned if he'd say so.

Lyle ran a hand through his graying hair. "I guess I had a stupid midlife crisis." His gaze met Denver's. "But I do love her-faults and all. I want to make it work with her. But first I need to make it work with you."

More uncomfortable by the moment, Denver shook his head. "You don't owe me anything."

"You're my son and I love you. These past years without you..." He paced away, came back, picked up his beer and put it down again. Finally he jerked around to face Denver. His shoulders were tight, his brows drawn in remorse. "Pride is a mean sonofabitch. I never should have doubted you. You're my son and I knew-know-you better than that. I shouldn't have believed Pamela's lies."

So he knew now they were lies? Had Pamela told him?

"But since I did," Lyle continued, "once I realized just how wrong I was, I should have called you. I just..." Helplessly he shook his head. "I never knew the words."

Denver's heart began to thunder. He cleared his throat. "That's understandable, Dad. I'm not great with words, either."

"I was an ass. Stubborn and stupid and I don't blame you if you're still angry at me."

"I'm not." Denver wasn't sure what he felt, but anger wasn't in the mix-not toward his dad. He tipped his head. "Did Pamela finally own up to the truth?"

"She came to me," Lyle said. "But I already knew. I think I've always known."

And he'd still chosen Pamela.

"I didn't want to believe it because I knew it'd crush me." He gave a sad smile. "But she insisted on telling me. She said she still loves me. That it was an unforgivable mistake but she wants my forgiveness anyway."

Nodding, Denver waited.

"I can more easily forgive her, if you'll forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," Denver told him.

"That's not true. There's everything to forgive." Lyle drew a deep breath. "I know she loves me, just as I know you're the only indiscretion she had."

That made him laugh. Shit. Now he was an indiscretion.

"Denver..."

He scrubbed both hands over his face, then shot to his feet. "I never touched her except to push her away."

"I know." He held Denver's gaze. "She told me that, too."

"What do you want from me, then?"

"I know it's a lot to ask, that you hate her now for all the trouble, but that's more my fault than hers. I was older and should have used my head."

No way could Denver deny that.

"Will you give her another chance? Give me another chance?"