"I'd better get to bed." She nibbled on her bottom lip.

He couldn't look away from those small, straight teeth sinking into that rosy flesh. "Not yet," he heard himself say. "I'm too wired. I want somebody to talk to." Somebody to touch.

Being Annabelle, she read his mind, and she confronted the situation head-on. "How sober are you?"

"Almost."

"Good. Because I'm not."

His eyes settled on that moist blossom of a mouth. Her lips parted like flower petals. He tried to come up with a smarmy comment that was sure to offend her, which would snap them both out of this, but he couldn't think of a thing. "And if I weren't almost sober?" he said.

"You are. Almost." Those melted caramel eyes didn't leave his face. "You're a very self-disciplined person. I respect that about you."

"Because one of us needs to be self-disciplined, right?"

Her hands twisted at her waist. She looked adorable- rumpled clothes, sandy ankles, that hullabaloo of shiny hair. "Exactly."

"Or maybe not." To hell with it. They were both adults. They knew what they were doing, and he took a step toward her.

She threw up her hands. "I'm drunk. Really, really drunk."

"Got it." He moved closer.

"I'm totally wasted." She took a quick, awkward step backward. "Hammered out of my mind."

"Okay." He stopped where he was and waited.

The toe of her sandal eased forward. "I am not responsible!"

"I'm readin' you loud and clear."

"Any man would look good to me right now." Another step toward him. "If Dan walked in, Darnell, Ron-any man!-I'd think about jumping him." The bridge of her nose crinkled with indignation. "Even Kevin! My best friend's husband, can you imagine? That's exactly how drunk I am. I mean…"A gulp of air. "You! Can you believe it? I'm so wasted, I couldn't tell one man from another."

"You'll take whatever you can get, right?" Oh, this was too easy. He closed the remaining distance between them.

The muscles in her throat worked as she swallowed. "I have to be honest."

"You'd even take me."

Her narrow shoulders rose, then fell. "Unfortunately, you're the only man in the room. If somebody else was here, I'd-"

"I know. Jump him." He ran the tip of his finger over the curve of her cheek. She leaned into his hand. He rubbed his thumb over her chin. "Could you be quiet now so I can kiss you?'

She blinked, thick lashes sweeping her pixie's eyes. "Really?"

"Oh, yes."

"Because, if you do, I'll kiss you back, so you need to remember that I'm-"

"Drunk. I'll remember." He slipped his hands into the hair he'd been aching to touch for weeks. "You're not responsible for your actions."

She gazed up at him. "Just so you understand."

"I understand," he said softly. And then he kissed her.

She arched against him, her body pliant, her lips hot and Annabelle-spicy. Her hair curled around his fingers, ribbons of silk. He freed one hand and found her breast. Through her clothes, the nipple pebbled under his palm. She wound her arms around his neck, pressed her hips to his. Their tongues played an erotic game. He was hard, mindless. He needed more, and he reached under her top to feel her skin.

A muffled little whimper penetrated his fog. She shuddered, and the heels of her hands pressed against his chest.

He drew back. "Annabelle?"

She gazed up at him through watery eyes and sniffed, the corners of her soft, rosy mouth drooping. "If only I were drunk," she whispered.

Chapter Thirteen

Annabelle heard Heath's sigh. That kiss… She'd known he'd be a wonderful kisser: domineering in the best possible way, master and commander, lord of the realm, leader of the pack. No need to worry about this one slipping into high heels when she wasn't paying attention. But none of that justified her foolishness. "I-I guess I have more self-discipline than I thought," she said, her voice unsteady.

"So gosh darned thrilled you figured that out now."

"I can't throw everything away for a couple of minutes of heavy breathing."

"A couple of minutes?" he exclaimed indignantly. "If you think I'm not good for longer than-"

"Don't." Pain shot through her. All she wanted to do now was climb into bed and pull the covers over her head. She hadn't cared about her business, her life, her self-respect. All she'd cared about was giving in to the moment.

"Let's go, Tinker Bell." He snagged her arm and steered her toward the kitchen. "We're taking a walk to cool down."

"I don't want to walk," she cried.

"Fine. Let's go back to what we were doing."

Even as she pulled away, she knew he was right. If she intended to get her footing back, this couldn't wait till morning. She had to do it now. "All right."

He grabbed the flashlight hanging by the refrigerator, and she followed him outside. They set off down a path soft with pine needles. Neither of them said a word, not even when the path opened into a small, moonlit cove where limestone boulders edged the water. Heath turned off the flashlight and set it on the lone picnic table. He stuffed his hands in the rear pockets of his shorts and walked toward the water. "I know you want to make a big deal out of this, but don't."

"Out of what? I've already forgotten." She kept her distance, wandering toward the water but stopping a good ten feet from him. The air smelled warm and marshy, and the lights from the town of Wind Lake twinkled off to her left.

"We were dancing," he said. "We got turned on. So what?"

She dug her fingernails into her palms. "As far as I'm concerned, it never happened."

"It happened all right." He turned toward her, and the tough note in his voice told her the Python had uncoiled. "I know the way you think, and that wasn't some big, unforgivable sin."

Her composure dissolved. "I'm your matchmaker!"

"Right. A matchmaker. You didn't have to swear a Hippo-cratic oath to get your business card."

"You know exactly what I mean."

"You're single; I'm single. It wouldn't have been the end of the world if we'd seen this through."

She couldn't believe she'd heard him right. "It would have been the end of my world."

"I was afraid of this."

His mildly exasperated air pushed her over the edge, and she stomped toward him. "I should never have let you come with me this weekend! I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning."

"It was a great idea, and no harm's been done. We're two healthy, unattached, reasonably sane adults. We have fun together, and don't even try to deny that."

"Yeah, I'm a great buddy, all right."

"Believe me, tonight I wasn't thinking of you as a buddy."

That threw her totally off stride, but she recovered quickly. "If another woman had been around, this would never have happened."

"Whatever you're trying to say, just spit it out."

"Come on, Heath. I'm not blond, leggy, or stacked. I was the default setting. Even my ex-fiance never said I was sexy."

"Your ex-fiance wears lipstick, so I wouldn't take that to heart. I promise, Annabelle, you're very sexy. That hair…"

"Do not start in on my hair. I was born with it, okay. It's like making fun of someone with a birth defect."

She heard him sigh. "We're talking about simple physical attraction brought on by some moonlight, a little dancing, and too much liquor," he said. "Do you agree that's what this is?"

"I guess."

"Basic physical attraction."

"I suppose."

"I don't know about you," he said, "but it's been a long time since I've had such a good time."

"Okay, I'll admit it was fun. The dancing," she added hastily.

"Damned right it was. So we got a little carried away. Nothing more than circumstances, right?"

Pride and self-respect dictated that she agree. "Of course."

"Circumstances… and a little animal instinct." His huskier pitch began to sound almost seductive. "Nothing to get worked up about. Are you with me?"

He was throwing her off stride, but she nodded.

He moved closer, his gravelly whisper a rasp over her skin. "Perfectly understandable, right?"

"Right." She was still nodding, almost as if he'd mesmerized her.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She kept nodding, no longer remembering exactly what the question was.

His eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "Because that's the only way… you can explain something like this. Pure animal attraction."

"Uh-huh," she managed, beginning to feel like a bedazzled, bobble-headed doll.

"Which sets us free"-he touched her chin, the barest brush-"to do exactly what neither of us can stop thinking about, right?" He dropped his head to kiss her.

The night wind hummed; her heart pounded. Just before his lips touched hers, his eyelids flickered, and she glimpsed the faintest hint of cunning loitering in those green irises. That's when it hit her.

"You snake!" She pushed against his chest.

He stepped back, all wounded innocence. "I don't deserve that."

"Ohmygod! You've just put me through Sales 101.I bow to the master."

"You've had way too much to drink."

"The Great Salesman asks just the right questions to get his mark agreeing with everything he says. He makes her nod her stupid head until it feels like it's coming off her neck. Then he dives in for the kill. You just tried to make a sale!"

"Have you always been this suspicious?"

"This is so you." She stomped toward the path, then spun back because she had so much more to say. "You want something you know is totally outrageous, and then you try to sell it with a combination of leading questions and fake sincerity. I just watched the Python in action, didn't I?"