“You’ve never seen a man before, have you?” he asked gruffly.

She looked up and blushed, then shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He stood in front of her but didn’t move. “Go ahead. Get used to it. You can even touch me if you’d like.”

A hint of laughter laced his words. She bit her lower lip, then slowly reached out to touch him.

He was big, she thought, wondering how he’d been able to fit himself inside of her. She remembered a stretching sensation but it hadn’t been unpleasant. Perhaps with time she would grow more comfortable and he would fill her easily.

Gently she brushed the top of him with her fingertips. She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but was pleased to find him both warm and dry to the touch. The skin was surprisingly soft, although the organ itself was tight and hard. Tentatively she closed her hand around him and rubbed. He groaned.

Her gaze flew to his face. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, releasing him instantly.

“You’re killing me, but that isn’t what you were asking,” he said and kissed her. “Hold that thought.”

Before she knew what was happening, he’d left. She stood alone in the semidarkness. Had she really hurt him? Had she said the wrong thing or broken the mood or had he changed his mind or…

Jonathan returned with a condom in his hand. “Protection,” he said and set it on the nightstand. Then he moved next to her and took her in his arms.

While they kissed, he urged her back on the bed. Soon she was stretched out on the mattress with his body pressing against hers. He kissed her mouth, then moved lower, trailing down her chin to her throat. Her skin felt both hot and cold. Shivers rippled through her. As he approached her breasts, she found herself arching in anticipation. She clutched the bedspread, desperate to have him touch her chest-the way he had before. She wanted his mouth, his lips, on her nipples. She wanted to feel that exquisite tugging as he drew the tight peaks into his mouth and nibbled so lightly.

Just thinking about it was enough to make her legs fall open. Heat and dampness swelled inside of her. Soon he would be thrusting himself there and she found she couldn’t wait.

But then he reached her breasts. He touched and teased. With lips, tongue and fingers, he made her toss her head from side to side and call out his name. He drove her to the edge of paradise. Between her thighs, pressure built until she knew it wouldn’t take but a moment of touching to allow her to climax.

Still kissing her breasts, he shifted until he was between her legs. His mouth moved lower, down her belly. He lingered at her belly button, teasing her with quick licks that made her giggle. The giggle became a gasp as he settled his hands on her thighs and began to rub the sensitized flesh there.

He moved up in sweeping movements that brought him perilously close to her feminine place, but he didn’t touch it. Closer and closer, until she thought the heat might consume her. At last he slipped between the protective folds and drew them apart. Then he dipped his head and kissed her there.

Cynthia’s eyes shot open, but she couldn’t see very much in the darkened room. She wasn’t sure what to think about what he was doing. It felt so…so…Incredible.

His tongue stroked that tiny point of pleasure and she thought she might die. Instinctively she drew her knees up and out, opening herself to him. As he kissed and licked and explored, her body began to melt from the inside. She dug her heels into the mattress; her hips arched toward him.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, knowing that if he did, she would die. It was too intense, too wonderful. She couldn’t possibly climax this way-not if she meant to survive.

But she couldn’t stand for him to stop, either. And when he slipped a single finger inside of her and began to caress that sacred place from underneath, she completely lost control. Passion rushed through her, over her, taking her apart in the most perfect way possible.

When the last of the ripples had faded and she could only tremble, he gathered her in his arms and held her close.

“How is that possible?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. Instead he stroked her hair and rocked her until she quieted.

Eventually she noticed the rather large male object butting into her thigh. She reached down and touched him.

“About your friend here,” she teased.

Jonathan smiled. “He’s being rather insistent.”

“I don’t mind that. Why don’t we see if we can find a way to make him happy.”

He reached for the protection and drew it on. “I have a couple of suggestions,” he said, moving between her knees and pressing into her.

“I’ll just bet you do,” she gasped as her body stretched to welcome him.

This felt so right, she thought as the passion began to grow again. She wanted this man inside of her, claiming her in the ancient way that men had always claimed women. As he moved, she felt herself tensing. Passion built. Faster and faster. She concentrated on his strength, the weight of him, the way his dark gaze locked with hers.

It began again, she thought, stunned as need filled her and ripped through her.

“Yes,” he growled triumphantly as she clung to him.

She grabbed his hips, urging him deeper. Her body tensed, then released as pleasure washed over her. He thrust harder and faster, each moment of penetration even more satisfying than the one before. Only after she’d climaxed three more times did he give into his own pleasure and grow still within her. Their gasping breaths mingled as they kissed in a moment of exquisite union.

That night, as Jonathan had told himself he should have done the first time, he held her. They lay in a tangle of arms and legs that spoke of their lovers’ celebration. He’d tried to tell her that he wasn’t right for her, but she hadn’t listened. He’d tried to walk away from her, but he hadn’t been able to do that, either. So now while she slept, he stared into the darkness and wondered what he was supposed to do next. How could he get away from a woman when he didn’t want her out of his life? And if he asked her to stay, what on earth was he going to do with her?

Jack Stryker and Max Shelton, David and Lisa’s lawyer, sat across from Jonathan. It was midafternoon on Monday and the two men were there to discuss important business. Unfortunately Jonathan found himself unable to focus on what they were talking about.

For the first time in his life, his personal relationships were interfering with work. He’d come into the office prepared to work and all morning he’d accomplished less than nothing. What was wrong with him?

But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. It had something to do with a pair of hazel-green eyes and a smile sweet enough to reform the devil…or maybe even a man like himself. Instead of getting up Sunday morning and establishing a little distance between himself and Cynthia, he’d lingered in her bed. They’d spent the day together. He’d even helped her with Colton, something he still couldn’t believe that had happened. And last night they’d made love over and over until he hadn’t wanted to leave her side this morning.

He was in deep and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“So we have a missing killer,” Stryker was saying, “and a guy who doesn’t remember anything. Or so he claims.”

Jonathan forced himself to pay attention to the conversation. “You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know. It’s damn convenient. He’s involved somehow. But on which side? We know David and Lisa had a contact who is probably the killer. Tom Flynt-the guy who lost his memory-may be an accomplice, a concerned citizen, or who knows what.”

Stryker shifted in his seat. “We want to go through David and Lisa’s papers. There’s the issue of client-lawyer privilege and we were hoping you would smooth things over with Mr. Shelton.”

“You think you’ll find some answers about Tom Flynt?”

“We hope.”

Jonathan glanced at the slick lawyer in his three-thousand-dollar suit. He’d never been a fan of Shelton’s but the man was efficient. Jonathan was Colton’s legal guardian and Colton was the sole heir of the estate. Therefore some attorney-client privilege extended to Colton, through Jonathan.

Jonathan thought about all his brother had done. He suspected there were more crimes he couldn’t even begin to imagine. What did it matter if they all came to light now?

“Give them whatever they want,” he told Shelton. “Papers, contracts, anything there is. I don’t want any secrets.”

Shelton raised his eyebrows. “You could be jeopardizing part of your nephew’s estate.”

“He’s not going to need the money. I have more than enough.”

Stryker looked pleased. “I’ll let the FBI know.” He rose. “Let me go make the call right now.”

After he left, Shelton stared at Jonathan. “As you requested, I’ve made arrangements to have your brother’s property liquidated. The house and its contents will be inventoried at the end of the week. I suggest you go through it one more time to see if there’s anything you want to keep either for yourself or the child.” Jonathan started to tell him that he wasn’t interested in anything of David’s but then he thought about Colton. While he might not know what would be of future interest to David’s son, Cynthia would. She could help him make the right choices for the boy so that he could have a connection to his past…however tenuous.

“I’ll get over there before Friday,” he promised.

He and Shelton talked over a few more items of business, then the man left. When Jonathan was alone, he tried to return his attention to his work, but all he could think about was Cynthia. Even though they’d made love the previous night, he found himself wanting her again. Somehow in the middle of all this, he’d lost control. He’d better find it and quick, before he did something stupid-like starting to imagine they could ever make this work.

Chapter 13

Jonathan let himself in the front door of the house. Light spilled into the darkened foyer from the living room. The double doors stood open and the sound of music drifted toward him.

He set down his briefcase and shrugged out of his coat. On an impulse, he’d called Cynthia late that afternoon and told her what time he would be home. She’d told him to expect a surprise. Now as he stared at the light reflecting on the black-and-white marble floor, he wondered what she had in store for him. He also wondered when he’d gotten soft.

While he would rather eat glass than admit it, a part of him enjoyed knowing that she and Colton were at home waiting for him. All his life he’d come home to an empty house. He usually got home so late that even Lucinda was gone. She left him a plate of food and instructions for warming, but that was his sole contact with humanity outside of the office. When he was involved with a woman, he made it a point to see her at her place, rather than his. In the past he’d always told himself that he liked the solitude. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Jonathan crossed the floor, moving quietly so he could catch them unaware. He wanted a moment to observe Cynthia and the baby, although he couldn’t say why. The situation should make him uncomfortable, and in a way it did. Yet it also felt right, despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to work all day for thinking about her and how they’d spent the weekend together.

He reached the doorway of the living room. Cynthia and Colton were on a blanket in the middle of the floor. A fire burned cheerfully in the oversize fireplace on the opposite wall. As she’d done when she’d taught her sister to dance, Cynthia had pushed most of the furniture out of the way. Next to her was a low table with several covered dishes and an ice bucket filled with a bottle of wine.

Colton lay on his stomach. His stocking-clad feet kicked in delight as he giggled at Cynthia. Jonathan didn’t think the baby knew him from a rock, but Colton raised his head and saw him, smiled, then waved a pudgy, baby arm in his direction. Cynthia turned and saw him. She smiled as well, then rose and walked over to him.

“You’re home,” she said with obvious delight. “We were just talking about how hungry we are and how exciting the picnic is going to be.”

She stepped into an embrace he hadn’t meant to offer. But as he hugged her close, then kissed her, the moment felt right. Her familiar body pressed against his in a way that had him counting the hours until Colton went to bed. She tilted her head back to study him.