But it wasn’t the physical attraction that jolted him now. Her smile twisted at him, warmed him from the inside out. Not for the first time, he was struck hard by his feelings for her, by the very strength and depth of them. He just didn’t know what to do with them. If he went with the flow, and things didn’t work out, he’d lose her. There’d be no more daily chats, no more laughter and shared jokes. No more easiness, or affection, and he’d miss her with all his heart.

But if he didn’t go with these new emotions, if he backed off now, he’d lose her anyway.

Screwed either way.

There was still a smile of greeting on her lips. Her laughing, bewildered eyes took him in, from the black smock he still wore, to his wet hair dripping down his back.

“Becca…” Summer shot Kent a warning glance and smiled at her sister. “Hon, what happened? I thought you had school tonight.”

“I had a bit of an attitude.” Her gaze met Kent’s. They’d made love on his desk only hours before and yet none of the need had faded, it was a tangible thing between them. So was affection and overwhelming tenderness. Helpless against the pull of that last emotion, he found himself moving closer to her.

“Well it’s great to see you,” Summer said brightly. Too brightly. “But I’m right in the middle of giving Kent a great new ‘do’-” She moved toward the door, her arms outstretched, trying to shoo everyone out, especially Becca. With one nervous glance at the stack of clothes on her desk-Becca’s clothes-she said quickly, “Let’s go on out there and you can give me tips while I work.”

But Becca ducked beneath Summer’s arms. She was still looking at Kent, with a sweet, baffled smile. “I didn’t know you were going to get your hair cut. Here.”

It was a clear question, and he opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, she turned to Summer’s desk.

And saw her clothes.

Kent groaned silently.

Summer groaned, not so silently, and made a move to stop her sister.

Avoiding Summer’s hand, Becca evaded and rounded the desk, then touched the open bag. As she flipped through the clothes one at a time, her jaw tightened. Her expression darkened. “What’s this?”

Summer’s smile faltered. “Uh, hon? Remember yesterday when you didn’t press charges against panties-man here?” She bit her lip. “Think you’re going to be that generous today too? Jail time really wouldn’t suit my schedule.”

Kent sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Becca let out a sound of disbelief. “What’s going on?” She glared at Kent. Crossed her arms. Cocked a hip.

Waited.

And basically looked so damn irresistible he had to slip his hands into his pockets to keep them off her. “Yeah, about the clothes…” He peeked at Summer, who had apparently found something fascinating on the ceiling to stare at.

“You stole them?” Becca asked him incredulously.

Kent again looked at Summer, expecting her to jump in and explain, but she still studied the ceiling intently, as if counting the squares were of utmost importance.

“How could you?” Becca asked him, hurt.

He’d had no intention of dropping a dime on Summer, really he hadn’t. But she was humming nonchalantly, looking amazingly innocent, while he was sinking fast.

And the woman he was hoping to coax back into his arms-soon-was sending him a withering look, and this time, dammit, he’d done nothing wrong!

Carefully he weighed his options, but he had none. “Summer stole your clothes. And if I were you, I’d sic Mrs. Fritzle on her.”

“Snitch,” Summer hissed beneath her breath.

“But…why?” Becca asked Summer.

Inhaling a deep breath, Kent reached out and took Becca’s hands, then drew her resisting body closer.

“It’s the makeover,” she said quietly, still angry. “Isn’t it? It’s how I pushed you into…” Hesitating, she blushed, then looked at Summer.

She covered her ears and turned her back to them. “I’m not listening,” she said, sneaking a peek over her shoulder. “Unless it’s good.”

Becca sighed and returned her attention to Kent. “It’s because of how I pushed you into sleeping with me, when you didn’t want to.”

“Didn’t want to?” He laughed incredulously. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder, her misery barely masked by her coolness. “Since you rarely tell me what you’re really thinking.”

Gently he lifted her chin. Kissed her. For a second she remained impassive, but he persisted, giving, urging, desperately trying to reach her.

Only when her fingers curled into his shoulders, when she made that soft, helpless sound of awakened desire, did he lift his head. “Did that feel like something I had to do?”

Her eyes were luminous. And sad. “I want the words, Kent.”

“Well, duh. I told you that much, Ace,” Summer broke in helpfully.

When they both glared at her, she covered her ears again, and also closed her eyes. “I’m not even here,” she assured them. “Unless you need me.”

“You’ve done quite enough,” Kent muttered.

“I’ll take my clothes,” Becca said to Summer, backing away from the both of them. “And you might as well tell me the truth. There never was a contest for the makeover, was there? It was just a way of roping me in.”

Summer dropped the hands from her ears and made a disparaging sound. “I just wanted to help.”

Becca let out a smile that was both warm and sad. “I know. And you did. Actually, both of you did.” She scooped up the garment bag, walked to the door. When she had her hand on the handle, she turned back. “I understand what you tried to give me, Summer. And it was wonderful. Exciting.” She looked at Kent and her eyes clouded, which broke his heart. “I understand what you tried to give me, too,” she whispered to him. “And it was also wonderful and exciting. But I still want more, Kent.”

“I know,” he said to the door after she’d shut it. “Dammit. I want more, too.”

Summer grinned at him, making him swear colorfully.

“Love, love, love,” she sang, then laughed. “Oh don’t worry, Dr. Dreamboat. I’m going to make a great sister-in-law.”

He nearly passed out at the thought.

13

IT WAS LATE, but Becca didn’t feel like going home. She’d been riding for an hour already now and her legs had long ago turned into rubber, but she didn’t stop. Instead, she rode to the lab, hoping to be able to be alone and think.

Quivering muscles or not, it was time to face the facts. She’d set out to have a good time and had ended up falling in love, and the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t “do” love.

Oh, he cared for her; she had only to look into his expressive eyes to see that. He wanted her, too. Every time he held her in his warm, strong, capable arms, that wanting surged like a live, tangible thing between them.

Thankfully the lab was empty. No one to see the stupid tears on her cheeks, no one to witness the self-pity she so rarely allowed herself.

All she wanted now was to lose herself in work. Unfortunately, some data she needed sat on Kent’s desk waiting his approval.

Letting herself in his office, she took a moment to stand there and simply absorb his favorite space. She could feel him here, could imagine him standing tall by the window, his eyes flashing wickedly when he shot her that just-for-her smile.

She got what she needed from his desk, then stared in surprise at the trash can. The lingerie catalogue. This was a prized possession, favorite reading material, fought over by every single male in the lab on a daily basis.

Why had Kent thrown it away?

It didn’t matter, she told herself. He could do as he wanted. So could she. Wild, fun, adventure. Her new motto. Yeah. She was a new woman.

But some of the wind left her sails when she realized she was a new woman who still had to ride home. Alone.


FINALLY, KENT THOUGHT as relief washed through him. Finally. When Becca got off her bike, he rose off her top stair where he’d been waiting and worrying.

She stood there in the light of the moon’s glow looking soft and vulnerable. Automatically, as if it was the most natural thing in his world, he reached for her, but at the last second, he stopped himself.

She’d been crying.

“You’re hurt?” he demanded in a voice gritty with concern as he took her arm to turn her toward him so he could get a better look at her. Years of nasty tumbles had him checking out her knees and elbows first, but she shook her head.

“I’m not that pathetic,” she said. “I can ride a bike.”

He knew then, without her saying it, that he’d given her that sad, haunted look. In light of that, he had no right to haul her close the way he wanted to do. To bury his face in the soft spot of her neck, to wrap his arms around her and hold on tight.

While he was still standing there like an idiot, she crossed the threshold and surprised him by walking directly into his arms.

She felt like heaven. “I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered.

She simply pressed closer, put her cold nose to the crook of his neck and held on. “You threw away your lingerie catalog,” she said, her voice muffled. “How come?”

The question completely baffled him. “What?”

She pulled away and looked at him. “You’ve never thrown one of those away. You and the guys save them-I know where you hide them.”

“Uh, yeah. Well.” Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. “I threw this one away, okay?”

“Why?”

He sighed. “Wouldn’t you rather know why I’m here?”

She lifted a shoulder. Studied her feet. Blew out a breath. “Okay.”

“So enthusiastic.”

“Okay, fine. If you must know, I’m a little nervous you’re here to say something like, ‘you drive me crazy, Becca. You ruined a good pair of my shoes, twisted my ankle and got a ticket in my car. You’re too much trouble, so stay out of my life.”’ She flashed an uncertain smile that both warmed and broke his heart. “That’s what I’m thinking you should be saying to me.”

“You can’t really think that.” But she did, he could see that more clearly than the nose on his face. “Okay, I’m not good at words, but I’ll try. For you, I’d try anything.”

“You…you would?”

“I let you drive my car, didn’t I? Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Your bedroom,” he said, his voice already husky at the thought of her there.

Her eyes darkened, her lips parted. “You want to show me something?”

“I want to tell you, with those words you want, but it has to be there.”

She bit her lip and nodded, and he scooped her up in his arms. There was no wild kissing this time, no forays in the hallway, no pressing each other against the wall in desperate hunger.

But she looped her arms around his neck. “I can walk.”

“Maybe I want to hold you. Makes me feel tough,” he said, huffing only a little. “Manly.”

She laughed, then grew quiet when he pushed open the bedroom door, carried her to the bed and slowly let her slide down his body until her feet hit the floor.

With a hand that was suddenly unsteady, because this was so important, he reached out and touched her face. “I can run a company. Manage a staff. I can do just about anything that needs to be done in my lab, but formulating my thoughts and putting them into words where you’re concerned is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

She closed her eyes. “I understand-”

He pressed gentle fingers to her soft lips, then leaned close to whisper, “Let me show you.” He touched her hair, then took a step closer, eased out the clip that kept everything so neat and sank his fingers into the thick, glorious depths.

She made a sound of wanting. He bent to kiss her. She made another sound, of desire this time, and her eyes fluttered closed again. The pulse at the base of her throat matched his racing heart.

He kissed that throat now. “I love your hair,” he murmured. “Love it up, love it down, love it any which way, but I especially love it stuffed into that baseball cap of yours, with all those little strands hanging out.”

When his fingers brushed against the curve of her ear, she drew an audible breath. “Nice earrings,” he said softly, carefully unscrewing the back of her gold hoop and setting it on his dresser. “Without is even better.” And then he put his mouth to the sensitive lobe and sucked.

She clutched at him, but managed to say, “You seem to have plenty of words now.”

“You inspire me.” He took her face in his hands and tipped it up. The room was fairly dark, all he could see clearly were those eyes of hers, but it was enough. He kissed her, stealing what little breath he’d managed to save up, a deep, slow, soulful kiss. When he finally raised his head, they were both shaky.