Part 14 (2/2)

Her chin came up. ”I'm not ashamed of it.”

”No, I didn't mean-” Speechless, he dragged a hand through his hair.

Innocent. A golden-haired virgin in a thin blue robe with flowers at her feet. And a man was supposed to resist, and walk away alone. ”I don't suppose you have any idea what that does to a man.”

”Not precisely, since I'm not a man.” She bent down for her basket.

”But I do know what realizing that you may soon be giving yourself for the first time does to a woman. So it seems to me we should both give this some clear thinking.” She smiled, or tried to. ”And it's very difficult to think clearly after midnight, when the moon's full and the flowers are ripe. I'll say good night, Boone.”

”Ana.” He touched her arm, but didn't hold on. ”Nothing will happen until you're ready.”

She shook her head. ”Yes, it will. But nothing will happen unless it's meant.”

With her robe billowing around her, she raced toward the house.

CHAPTER 5

Sleep had been a long time coming. Boone hadn't tossed and turned so much as lain, staring up at the ceiling. He'd watched the moonlight fade into that final deep darkness before dawn.

Now, with the sun streaming in bright ribbons over the bed, he was facedown, spread out, and fast asleep. In the dream floating through his brain, he scooped Ana into his arms and carried her up a long curved staircase of white marble. At the top, suspended above puffy, cotton clouds, was an enormous bed pooled in waterfalls of white satin.

Hundreds of long, slender candles burned in a drifting light. He could smell them-the soft tang of vanilla, the mystique of jasmine. And her- that quietly s.e.xy scent that went everywhere with her.

She smiled. Hair like sunlight. Eyes like smoke. When he laid her on the bed, they sank deep, as if into the clouds themselves. There was harpsong, romantic as tears, and a whisper that was nothing more than the clouds themselves breathing.

As her arms lifted, wound around him, they were floating, like ghosts in some fantasy, bound together by needs and knowledge and the unbearable sweetness of that first long, lingering kiss. Her mouth moved under his, yielding as she murmured-

”Daddy!”

Boone came awake with a crash as his daughter landed with a thump on his back. His unintelligible grunt had her giggling and scooting down to smack a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

”Daddy, wake up! I fixed you breakfast!”

”Breakfast.” He grumbled into the pillow, struggling to clear the sleep from his throat and the dream from his system. ”What time is it?”

”The little hand's on the ten, and the big hand's on the three. I made cinnamon toast and poured orange juice in the little gla.s.ses.”

He grunted again, rolling over to peer through gritty eyes at Jessie. She looked bright as a sunbeam in her pink cotton blouse and shorts. She'd done the b.u.t.tons up wrong, but she'd brushed the tangles from her hair.

”How long have you been up?”

”Hours and hours and hours. I let Daisy outside and gave her breakfast.

And I got dressed all by myself and brushed my teeth and watched cartoons. Then I got hungry, so I fixed breakfast.”

”You've been busy.”

”Uh-huh. And I was real quiet, too, so you didn't have to wake up early on your sleep-in day.”

”You were real quiet,” Boone agreed, and reached up to fix her b.u.t.tons.

”I guess you deserve a prize.”

Her eyes lit. ”What? What do I get?”

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