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Their gazes met. The cocky grin faded slowly from his lips. He gave her a look so smoldering and intense, Mariahs knees almost buckled.
"Mariah," he whispered. Straightening, he reached a hand up to her.
She couldnt have drawn back her hand to save her soul. She placed her fingertips on his warm palm. A shiver went through her at the contact. Slowly she sank to her knees beside him.
Please, she thought, drowning in his steel gray eyes. Touch me before I remember youre someone I can never have. . . .
But it was too late. Shed already remembered.
Trembling, she drew her hand back and tried to smile. "You want a cup of coffee?"
"Thats not what I want, and you know it. "
She pulled her gaze away from his compelling eyes and stared hard at her lap.
"Dont look at me like that. "
"Like what?"
Reluctantly she eased her chin up and met his gaze. "Like you want something from me. "
"But I do. I want—"
She brought a hand up. "Dont say it. Please. "
She was kneeling in the cold, damp grass beside him. Moisture seeped though her woolen skirt and thick winter underwear, but she barely noticed. Her every sense was focused on the man sprawled casually beside her.
He half turned, half rolled toward her. "You intrigue me, Marian. Is there something wrong with that?"
A quavering heat moved through her body at his simple words. They were exactly what shed come to expect from him. Not a false proclamation of love, not even a declaration of desire. Simply a devastating statement of fact. You intrigue me.
Suddenly she was afraid of him, afraid with every particle and fiber of her being.
She might be able to defend herself against pretty words, might even be able to thwart her own desires, but his honesty was somehow stronger, more potent, than she could bear.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for control. Trying to find the casual armor that would keep him away from her . . . keep her own yearnings at bay. She forced a brittle, frightening laugh. "Mr. Stone, must you say everything that comes into your head?"
"Yeah. "
Mariah had no answer for that, no quick self-defensive comeback. After a few interminable, heart-thumping seconds, she opened her eyes.
And found him staring at her.
Her breath caught. She became achingly aware of the sounds of the dawn: the waters current, the winds caress, his even breathing. The unfamiliar soap and woodsmoke smell of him filled her senses.
"Come here," he whispered.
She stared into his eyes and felt as if she were falling. She wanted to back away, needed to back away, but she couldnt.
Slowly—so slowly—she leaned toward him.
His hand came up. She felt his fingers, damp with dew and roughened by dirt, curl around her neck. His thumb brushed along her jaw in a feather-stroke. He drew her toward him, closer, closer, until she could feel his every breath like a caress against her tingling mouth.
Their lips touched. His tongue darted out, breezed along her lower, lip.
Mariah started to tremble.
"Mariah," he whispered, his lips moving gently against her own. "Dont . . . "
