“No. Hart-”

“Lots of white marble, a few fountains. Domed tops. I like your domed tops better. Talk about your architectural wonders.” Thirty seconds later, he had whisked all the wrapping paper away, lowered a startled Bree to the carpet and was straddling her. One of his fingers was busy with the buttons of her shirt as he grinned. “I know a great game for domed tops.”

“You weigh at least a ton, and I didn’t come here for this.”

“Now, Bree.” He flipped open two buttons, in spite of her hands chasing after him. “To hell with domed tops. Ice-cream cones. That’s really what they remind me of. Do you lick your ice-cream cones from the top or the sides?”

His tongue flicked over a nipple. The helpless laughter rippling through Bree abruptly died. His soft tongue strayed down to the side of one breast, lapping at the circumference as if he were indeed savoring vanilla ice cream. Or maybe chocolate. Or maybe wild cherry.

“Unlike ice-cream cones, the more you lick, the less they disappear. Have you noticed that phenomenon, Bree? They’re swelling up,” he whispered. His eyes lifted distractedly to hers. “Also, they’re not at all cold. One might even go so far as to say-”

“Hart. Sex is a serious business. Do you have a straightjacket I could conveniently put on you for the next five minutes?”

He shook his head. “Honey, you’re such a mental mess. Who on earth gave you your sex education, anyway? Sex is fun. I thought we covered all this two nights ago.” He glanced down at what his hand was covering and started chuckling. “We did. Cover this. Extensively.”

“You still have work to do,” Bree said desperately. How had things gotten out of hand so fast? Maybe her prepared speeches were in a mental rejection pile, and maybe they belonged there, but she still didn’t want an affair based only on sex…even if her heart was kicking in approval at a thundering rate.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“A stitch in time saves nine,” she shot back.

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

Bree frowned up at him. “What do apples have to do with anything?”

“I thought you wanted to quote proverbs.”

She closed her eyes disgustedly. A mistake. Hart promptly leaned over to kiss them. Lips softer than silk brushed the delicate flesh of her eyelids, then grazed her cheekbone, then burrowed into her rain-softened hair.

He was doing it again, she thought dismally. Making her smile, making her feel intensely desired, making her believe there could be absolutely nothing more right or delightful than fooling around with him. Ice-cream cones, damn him.

His lips teased the corner of her mouth, nipping and gently biting until she parted her own. He waited then, eyes soft and silent on hers before he moved. His tongue flicked at the entrance of her lips, then thrust in, filling every secret moist corner. He withdrew it, then thrust in again. And again. With a helpless, almost angry little murmur, Bree surged closer, rubbing her hips against his, a capitulation that she could no more have helped than breathing.

“Honey.” Hart raised his mouth. Not far. “I know you’re hot for my bod, but try to slow down a little. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

If it weren’t for the dance in his eyes, she would have killed him. Actually, it was probably because of the dance in his eyes that she wanted to. “Manning. Hasn’t one single woman in your life ever taught you to shut up?”

“Nope. That’s going to be up to you.”

Bree took a breath, a vulnerable softness suddenly haunting her eyes. “You know, the only reason I came over here was to tell you I didn’t want any more of this.”

“Tell me, then,” Hart encouraged. Putting an elbow on both sides of her face, he cupped his chin in his hands, giving her all his encouraging attention.

“I just did. Affairs just aren’t my thing, and I really don’t think getting involved with you is…wise,” she ended lamely.

“Honey, you seem to be terribly confused. We are involved. And you like it just fine. You’ve been trying not to laugh for the better part of half an hour.”

She bit her lip. “Hart, stop making this so hard-”

His eyebrow flickered up. “You’re the one who made it so hard, honey.” He shifted his hips expressively.

“Hart.”

“You’re right. Let’s get serious, Bree.” Using an arm for leverage, he vaulted off her and, when standing, reached for her hand. She took it and raised herself up beside him, her lips still throbbing faintly from the pressure of his. The suddenly disappointed look in his eyes startled her. “If you really want to get serious that fast, we can move immediately to the bed. I’d planned on a little lengthy foreplay, but if you’re that hot, honey-”

“Could you just once stop talking?”

“Will you stop thinking so damn much? Arms up for my Valentino act.” He raised her arms himself, hooked them around his neck and slid one arm around her and the other under her thighs. “This is the carry-off-to-the-sunset scene. Although it’s my best guess that guy ended up in traction,” he murmured, just before his mouth crushed down, obliterating any chance of her reply.

Chapter Ten

Talk, talk, talk. Bree had never met a man who talked as much as Hart did. From the moment she met him, there’d been only one way to shut him up. With her arms loosely around his neck, she pressed a kiss on his mouth, effectively ending his incessant, annoying chatter.

Whom do you think you’re fooling? Bree, you’re in trouble again, warned a small voice in her head. She banished the voice. As he carried her down the dark hall, her lips nuzzled his neck, trailing up so that her teeth could gently nip at his ear. Eyes closed, she let her fingers grope for the buttons on his shirt.

Hart chuckled, murmuring something approving she didn’t quite hear, and then bent down to sink smooth, warm lips onto hers. They had to stop then, because Hart leaned back against the wall, and when the kiss was over his breathing was different and his pace had quickened toward the bedroom.

Her heart picked up a murmur en route. A love murmur. If Hart thought he’d distracted her into this seduction, he was completely mistaken. She was being pushed into nothing. She knew damn well she was asking to be hurt-getting oneself involved with a womanizer wasn’t wise; he’d never seriously talked about anything permanent and undoubtedly had nothing more than a summer fling in mind. Tough. He made her laugh; he made her feel like screaming; he made her throw things; he made her feel alive, and every nerve ending now pulsed with wanting him.

But to toss out a whole lifetime of sane, rational behavior for one wild fling at love? Yes, murmured the exuberant voice in her head. Yes yes yes. What choices do you have beyond going back to being dependable old Bree again in a few more weeks? This is your chance. Hart seems to take for granted that you’re an uninhibited wanton who throws caution to the wind. Be that wildly passionate woman, just once; be wanton, just once. There’ll never be anyone like Hart in your life again…

She meant the words, she felt the emotions, she ached with the richness of freedom released in her soul…but all of her bravery dissipated in the doorway to the bedroom. Hart paused, suddenly looking down at her with dark, too-far-seeing eyes. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing’s wrong.” How could he have noticed that tiny lick of tension in her spine?

“Something is.” Still carrying her, he nudged her cheek with his when she tried to duck her head.

“I was just worrying that you were going to break your neck, toting me around like this.”

“Bree.” There was a lot of gentle scolding in that single syllable.

She lowered her eyes, leaning her cheek to his shoulder. “Could we…” She hesitated. “Hart, could we go somewhere else? Please?”

“You mean, somewhere besides the bedroom?”

“It’s just…king-size beds and satin sheets…it’s not my thing. I feel…” She hesitated again.

“Silly?”

She let out a breath and gave a half smile. “Inhibited,” she confessed with embarrassment. He undoubtedly did this with dozens of women. That was, of course, his prerogative, but that bedroom made her think of his dozens of other women.

“Inhibited? That’ll be a cold day in hell.”

“Hart,” she reproved.

Slowly, he released her until her feet touched the floor, but he didn’t let her go. Thoughtfully, he brushed her hair from her face and smoothed one fingertip over her cheek in a soft, silent caress. Gently, he leaned his forehead to hers. “Honey. I bought those sheets the day before yesterday. To seduce you on.”

“Oh.”

“They’re slippery, I discovered last night. So slippery they make the pillows skim onto the floor as if they’re on a toboggan run. They’re also cold. Takes forever for a body to warm them up. Even so…”

“You want to try them?”

His lips just touched her forehead, and his voice came out languid and slow. “The kitchen table’s fine by me, honey. So is right here on the hall carpet. I thought the lady might feel…luxurious. Pampered. You need some pampering, Bree.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

She sighed. Knowing Hart, he’d argue all night. “But the…”

“Water bed? Great for a bad back, but one does get the feeling that isn’t why the owner put it in.” Hart pulled her arms back up around his neck, and then dipped his head to nuzzle the curve of her shoulder. “You think I’ve set up a swinging singles scene in there, honey. Won’t wash. I just rented the place, and I outgrew one-night stands about ten years ago. Traveling-alone-can be the loneliest life there is.”