prick of tears in her eyes. Looking down in vain denial of the emotion he stirred, she tried to focus on his words, but those to come were even more emotion-laden.
âYou came to me willingly tonight, didnât you?â he asked pointedly.
She twisted the pearl ring slowly on her finger as she struggled to recall its origin. But the fact that it had been a gift from Larry was suddenly irrelevant. âYes,â she whispered, unable to lie.
âWhy, Deanna? Why did you come? Why did you let me make love to you?â
She shrugged, frowned and stared at his hands. They were strong and warm and she wished one held her own hand. She recalled how gently heâd touched her, how sweetly heâd caressed her body and brought her to the moment of fulfillment sheâd never experienced before. Soft tremors tickled her insides in memory of that glorious instant. But it was past. Now she was being asked to examine her motives. How did one bare oneâs soul when its contents were an enigma?
Her eyes fell on her own hands, clutched together with tension. âDonât ask me to explain myself,â she pleaded softly. âI donât think I can do that.â
âCan you see me again ⦠tomorrow night?â
Her head flew up. âNo.â
Though heâd known what the answer would be, it was no easier to accept. âYou havenât got other plans, have you?â Silently she shook her head, then raised her brows as he continued. âWill you tell me something, Deanna?â She waited. âHave there been other men since your husband died?â
Startled by his directness, she stiffened. âYou donât need me to answer that, do you?â
Markâs chuckle held admiration. âThe perfect evasion.â
âI didnât mean it that way,â she put in quickly. âBut Iâm sure you already know the answer. If Iâd been with other men I would be taking this all in stride rather than agonizing over it, wouldnât I?â
âItâs possibleââhe arched a browââthat what you felt with me was powerful enough to frighten you.â The ensuing pause was pregnant with meaning. âWell ⦠?â
Deanna jumped to her feet. âIâve got to go. Really.â
âYou canât!â Mark stood up just as quickly and reached out to feather-touch the auburn silk of her hair. âI mean â¦â He shifted self-consciously, grinned sheepishly, then broke into an exquisitely tender smile. âThat is ⦠youâd better hitch up your hair again. It looks positively beautiful to me ⦠but that housekeeper of yours is apt to wonder.â
Deanna put a hand to her shoulder, where her tresses spilled in sensual luxury. âOh!â she gasped, then blushed, even dared to laugh at herself. âI forgot! Youâre right. She would wonder â¦â
âCome on.â He tilted his head. âYou can use my things.â
Unwilling to argue, she felt characteristically docile as she retraced her steps to the bathroom. Mark fished a brush from his leather kit, handed it to her, then leaned back against the doorjamb to watch her work.
After several long strokes she paused. âMy hair will be all over your brush ⦠.â
He crossed his arms over his chest and beamed in delight at the sight before him. âI donât mind. Except for the length, itâd be hard to tell your hair from mine. And itâs not as if I have a jealous wife to wonder whoâs been sharing my hairbrush.â
Deanna froze. Unable to move, she stared at Mark in the mirror. âYou donât have one, do you?â she asked, horrified at the thought of what she might have done. Indeed, much of her horror was due to the fact that the
possibility of his being married hadnât once entered her mind.
But rather than ridiculing her naivete as he might have done, Mark laughed his pleasure and shook his