rung of the ladder, still fighting my way up."

"You don't need me to reach the top."

He blew out a stream of smoke. "Still, I see where he's coming from.

It's easy since we're both crazy about you."

She moved to him then to press a kiss against his shoulder. "He'll come

around, Drew. He's just not ready to admit that I'm grown-up. And in

love."

"If anyone can soften him up, it's you." He flicked his cigarette away

then turned her into his arms. "I'm glad you didn't want to go out

tonight."

"I'm not big on clubs and parties."

"Just an old-fashioned girl, aren't you?" His lips were curved as they

touched hers.

"Do you mind?"

"Spending the evening alone with you?" His hands moved up and down her

rib cage as he toyed with her mouth. "Do I look crazy?"

"You look wonderful." Her breath caught as he skimmed his fingers over

her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She was small and firm. He felt himself harden as she

trembled against him.

"Sweet," he murmured. "Always so sweet." His mouth grew hungrier on

hers, more demanding, less patient as he circled her off the balcony and

toward the bed. "The tout's nearly over."

"Yes." She let her head fall back when his lips raced down her throat.

"Will you come back to London when it's done, Emma?"

She shuddered again. It was the first hint he'd given her that he meant

what they had to last. "Yes. I'll come to London."

"We'll have nights like this." He lowered her to the bed, keeping his

voice soothing, his hands easy, not wanting to break the mood. "Night

after night together." Smoothly, his clever hands tugged her blouse from

the waistband of her slacks. "I'll be able to show you, over and over

now ' feel about you. How much I want you. Let me show you, Emma.

"Drew." She moaned his name as his mouth roamed lower, as his tongue

stroked over and under the slope of her breast. The pleasure and the

pa.s.sion streaked into her. This time, she told herself as his long,

callused fingers glided over her skin. This time.

She could feel the tension in his shoulders where her own hands gripped.

He had strong shoulders, strong arms for such a slim, delicate-looking

man. She loved feeling the bunch and flow of his muscles.

Then his hand roamed down to the waist of her slacks. Those clever

fingers fumbled impatiently with hooks.

"No." She hated herself as the word burst out, but she couldn't stop it.

When he continued to tug, his mouth coming back to close over hers, she

struggled. "No, Drew, please." She was on the verge of tears when she

managed to pull away. "I'm sorry," she began. "I'm so sorry. I'm just

not ready."

He didn't speak. She couldn't see his face. In the dark, she huddled

on the bed until her system leveled.

"I know I'm not being fair." Annoyed with herself, she dashed a tear

from her cheek. "I don't know whether the nuns did a better job than

they could ever imagine or if it's because of Dad, but I need more time.