Grant watched Jenna shiver, despite the heat of the blaze that scorched his back. He didn't know why she wasn't warming up more quickly. Between the fire and the smoking hot woman in front of him, he might have to venture out into the blizzard himself to cool down. His stupid, clueless body didn't care how lame her story was.

"How long have you known my sister?" His family was a subject that could kill his libido if anything could.

"Several years. I met Kate when I first moved to Florida. Recently, I took one of the classes she teaches at the community center."

He nodded neutrally. He didn't care about the damn classes.”

"You shouldn't blame Kate for anything I do," Jenna added. "She doesn't think I should be let out after dark without a keeper."

Grant eyed her bedraggled state. "She might have a point—"

"Hey! I did not pop out of a cake! I am not your singing birthday telegram! So you can just stop eyeing me like I'm your playmate du jour." She bolted upright and her feet hit the floor.

"Calm down." He moved after her as she stood, and caught her arm. He was a little appalled at the sense of dismay that had whipped through him when she started to leave. "You can't go. There's a terrible storm out there."

"I came in from that storm, and I can go right back out in it. I'm every bit as tough as I look."

He couldn't help laughing. "You don't look tough at all." Long, golden brown hair, curling a bit now that it was drying. Big brown eyes that managed to look both uncertain and inviting at the same time. And lips as full as Cupid's arched bow. Just waiting to strike and slay a man.

She wrenched her arm from his hand. "And don't patronize me."

He held up a hand and pantomimed wiping the smile off his face. "Okay then. You are tougher than that ten line algorithm I've been working on over there." He jerked his head towards his computer. "Lord knows it doesn't talk back like you do."

She stifled a giggle.

But he didn't feel like laughing any more. Her arm had still been cold and, when he considered the state of her clothes, he couldn't be surprised.

"There won't be any cabs out there, anyway," he reminded her.

"I got a cab to come here." She edged away from him.

He grasped her arm again, surprised at his own determination to keep her. "That cab driver was real anxious to hit the road and get home. He said the only good thing about this weather was that the streets are deserted."

"There's the subway."

"They have problems in bad weather, too. Besides, the way you're dressed you can't go anywhere." His eyes strayed to her tits for the hundredth time since she'd appeared. Though he tried not to be obvious, a woman couldn't dress like she did and not expect a man to look.

"You could lend me a sweatshirt."

He eyed her sexy sandals. Aside from their complete inability to protect her from the snow, he damn well knew what the message was. As would any other man who saw her in them. "I can't help you with your footwear. And a sweatshirt with your bare legs sticking out—" He shook his head. "Not safe for public viewing."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you kidding? You must know you have fabulous legs."

"A leg man, are you?"

"Nope. More of a boobs and butts guy myself. Since you asked." He couldn't help grinning at her flustered face. "But I like anything and everything on the right woman."

"I am not the right woman for—for whatever you might be implying."

"Don't be so defensive. You can't go anywhere 'til you warm up." He slung his arm around her shoulders. "I've got some body heat to share." He tugged her to his side.

Wow, she smelled good. Snow and roses. A potent combination. Especially when combined with a barely-there outfit, a rack to die for, and those legs.

He tried to inhale discreetly. She was up to something more than what she'd told him. He knew that for a fact. But he'd been holed up in his apartment for days, working like the devil, and he could definitely use a break. Besides, he really couldn't send her back out into the blizzard.”

He glanced out the window where the snow fell silently out of the dark sky, backlit by the lights of New York City. Its beauty didn't hide its dangers. She had no money, no warm clothes, and nowhere to go, unless he chose to believe her story about the friend she could call. Which he didn't.

But, even if she was a liar, what harm could she do him? He might as well take advantage of the opportunity fate had dropped into his lap. So to speak. Because his lap was the part insisting as loudly as possible that Jenna should stay at least until it got some relief.

“Lata.” Ronan breathed out her name word on a long sigh. “Try to understand.” He drew her other hand into his clasp and tightened his grip. “I can’t stay here on your planet.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t want to use you.” He paused, his eyes gleaming like the dark waters of a surging night sea.

“You deserve more from a man than what I’m prepared to give.”

“One night of passion,” she whispered, unable to speak clearly over the emotion clogging her throat.

“That’s all I want.” Goddess, please don’t let me beg.

“Passion! What do you know of passion?” His voice rumbled as he struggled to speak quietly, when she could see from the stiffness in his shoulders, from the lines of tension bracketing his strong mouth that some deep emotion held him in thrall. “All these years a virgin when you should have been lying naked in a man’s arms every night.”

His hands gripped hers as a night wind blew over them, bringing his cool, star-kissed scent to her. She curved closer to capture it.

Maybe she didn’t know much about passion. But she’d felt the strength beneath his gentle fingers when he touched her. She’d felt the sharpness of his teeth behind his tender kisses, nipping her in sensitive places. Underneath the patience and control he exhibited at all times, she sensed a fierce potency she wanted to unleash. If that was passion, she wanted it. This man with the hard eyes and the tender hands called out to something deep within her.

Her gaze met his and she understood suddenly that exploring her own sensuality was part of the call to adventure that had drawn her forth from her Temple home. And she understood more—the call to explore her sensuality had been sparked by her attraction to this man. This man and no other.

But could she convince him that what felt so right to her could also feel right to him? He was a strong man, with a strong moral code. Deflowering a virgin was not something he’d do lightly—he’d convinced her of that. She drew a deep breath.

“Ronan, when you touched my hair, it felt so good. Not like when Maemae or one of my friends fixed it.” She leaned closer. “When you touched me, I felt it…deep inside. I thought that was passion—the way a man handled a woman.”

“No.” Ronan leaned into the electricity sparking between them. His gaze riveted on her lips and she saw the moment when he capitulated. “Goddess! You drive me to it.” He shoved both hands in her hair and brought her face close to his. “A man would handle you like this.” His fingers tightened just enough on her hair so that she felt the pull against her scalp.

“And here’s why a man would do it.” Still holding her tightly, both hands wound in her hair, he brought his head down, and pressed his lips against hers. Hard. Her mouth opened under his demand and his tongue plunged in. He filled her mouth, his teeth scraped her tongue, and she rose to her knees, drawn to his heat like water to a fissure, an eruption certain.

Their bodies touched briefly, one sparkle of zinging delight, and then Ronan moved.

“No.” He dropped his hands and pulled back sharply, as if he’d been scalded. “I have responsibilities, obligations. I am not free to simply lie down and partake of a woman who tempts me.” He shook his head as if he needed the negative motion to reinforce his words.

“Then you should have left me to Lucas,” she cried out, chagrin and disappointment roiling within her in a toxic brew.

“The blonde man who bid at the end?”

“Yes.” She pressed her hands against her thighs, afraid that any movement would bring her again into contact with his heat.

“Did you want him?” Ronan’s voice rumbled fiercely as his gaze snapped to hers.

“I preferred anyone to Sheckel.”

Ronan’s mouth tightened, a firm slash across his tense face. “Lucas wanted you. I could see it on his face.”

Lata shrugged, striving for a casualness she didn’t feel. It was time to try to salvage some of her dignity.

“Desire is such a transitory thing, don’t you think? If he didn’t have me, he’d find another woman.”

“Is that how you feel about desire?” He leaned closer until his breath touched her face. “If not one man, another will do?”

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t know anything about desire…until recently.”

“How recently?”

“When you kissed me…after the auction.”

“That was a show, for the Temple elders.”

“It still felt good. Then, in my room…”

“Another kiss. Nothing more.” He waved his hand.

He could dismiss it. But she wouldn’t. She’d been kissed by Toric, and by a few other men over the years. None had affected her the way Ronan had. No other kiss had produced that tingly, melting feeling that reached from her lips all the way through her body. None had sparked a sharp yearning for more. A spark that danced within her, searching for an answering light to ignite a fire that would burn out of control.

“No, Ronan.” She looked up at him. “You know it was more than just a kiss.”

“This is more.” He drew his forefinger down between her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his watchful eyes. “That’s desire. Subtle. A man needs to pay attention to catch a woman’s signals.” He curved his hand and moved it slowly over one breast towards her nipple. “Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes.” The word sighed through her parted lips.

“That, too, is desire.” His fingers moved onto her nipple and he stroked it, gently. She tried to breathe.

Her back arched in wordless supplication.

“Harder?” His voice scraped her skin.

“Yes, oh, yes.” She couldn’t have imagined something that felt this good.

He increased the pressure almost imperceptibly, leaning over her, the darkness that was his body the only thing she could see.

“Where do you feel it now?” His low voice rumbled in her ear, adding another texture to the delicious sensations washing over her.

“Everywhere.” She sighed, opening her eyes when his hand left her breast.

“How does it feel?” His dark voice continued to tickle her ear.

“Tingly and achy, and wonderful and…”

“And?”

“Like something is missing.”

He laughed shortly.

“Yeah, that’s desire, the good and the bad.”

Sheriff Hart seemed even bigger without his cop’s uniform. Which didn’t seem fair. As Scarlet certainly felt much smaller standing neck deep in the lake with not a scrap of clothing between her and the beach.

“Got a report someone was skinny-dipping.” The Sheriff shoved his hands in his cut-off jeans and glanced at the small pile of her clothes that suddenly seemed very conspicuous on the sandy beach.

“I was hot.” Scarlet tried very hard not to look at his muscular legs, though the bright moonlight insisted on showing them off. “Some law in this town against cooling off?”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone in the dark.” His deep voice carried easily over the calm black silk of the water. “I heard your car’s not going to be fixed for a few more days.”

“So?”

“So you were just passing through town until the accident.” He kicked off his sneakers and stepped into the water. “You need a place to stay?”

“Nah. I got a room at the No-Tell Motel.”

He regarded her thoughtfully for a long minute. “How is it?”

“It’d be a lot more fun if I had something to do there that I didn’t want to tell about.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you could’ve convinced that trucker to prolong his stay in town.”

“Yeah, I was tempted.” She shrugged, hoping her nonchalance looked convincing. “But he was too uptight for me. The uproar over his truck.” She rolled her eyes. “You would’ve thought I destroyed his favorite toy.”

He smiled. “Mistress of innuendo.”

He waded in deeper, walking directly in the path of the moon, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe with the water caressing her, pressing its liquid, heavy weight against her bare breasts.

“What are you doing?” She knew she sounded breathless.

 “I need to cool off, too. You don’t mind, do you?” He stopped, and with one swift motion pulled his dark t-shirt over his head and tossed it behind him onto the sand. “The water feels great.”

She still couldn’t breathe. In the clear moonlight, his chest looked wide enough to fill the lake. She could finally see the muscled ridges she’d fantasized were there, but the reality made her mouth water. And other parts of her, as well. Her gaze traveled down as if drawn by the ripple of muscle until she reached the point where his cutoff jeans obscured her view.

“Want me to keep going?” His voice rolled over her, smoother than paint, darker than the night.

She didn’t know if he meant keep going with the stripping, or keep going into the lake toward her. But she did know she was in trouble. Standing here, naked in the middle of a lake on a moonlit night with the sexiest man she’d ever seen approaching, she knew that common sense had never been further from her reach. The water flowed silkily around her, massaging her body with its buoyant touch, relaxing her and yet, within her, a fine tension was building as he approached.

“Double dare you, Mr. Officer of the Law.” Oh, God, if he came close enough to touch, she didn’t know what she’d do. She had to curb these impulses that pitched her right into trouble.

“You like to taunt men, don’t you?”

“It’s fun. What do you do for kicks?”

His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “If you’re a good girl, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Darn. I’m never a good girl.”

He took a step closer.

“For a bad girl, you’re rooted to your spot over there pretty firmly.”

“I’m comfortable.” Though her nudity, which had been simply delightful when she was alone, seemed both daring and nerve-wracking now that he’d appeared.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “Hot night. Cool water.” His voice dropped a register. “Naked body. I’m sure you feel fine.”

He grinned as if he suddenly heard his double entendre. “Really fine,” he repeated.

“So join me,” she said. “Take off the rest of your clothes.” Oh, she knew she was tempting the devil, but she couldn’t seem to stop. She wanted desperately to feel that hair-roughened chest slam against her, to feel his big hands clasp her head, holding her tightly for a demanding kiss. She wanted to see that tough façade morph into needy greed.

“I wonder why you’re so desperate for attention?”

“Come on,” she said, pitching her voice low enough to just reach him. “You’re dying to see what I showed that trucker.”

“Dying might be too strong a word.” He inhaled slowly, his chest expanding. “Under different circumstances, though, I wouldn’t mind seeing the real thing.”

“Seen a lot of fake ones, have you?”

“I’ve handled a few in my time.”

He was close enough now that she could see his brown nipples, and they were puckered just like hers. She was sure he was interested. So why was he holding back?

“The water’s warm over here.” She swirled her arms, savoring the embrace of the silky liquid. But she wanted something rougher. “Come closer.”

“Don’t think so.” He stopped his slow wade towards her. “As much as I’d like to.”

“You’re afraid we’ll end up having sex.”

“Call me old-fashioned. I like to kiss a woman first.”