He Wanted Her Beside Him. Letter to Reader Title Page About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Teaser chapter Copyright

He Wanted Her Beside Him.

Needed to hold her. Yearned to touch her soft curls as they danced down her back. Craved to have her fragrance fill his head. Hungered to know if her skin felt as velvety as it looked. Ached for her breasts to press against him, for her legs to wrap around his as their bodies merged.

He opened his eyes, needing a distraction, but the starkly erotic image still hovered, not the least hazy.

Fast. It had all happened too fast. Which qualified what he felt as infatuation. Which meant, given time, he could control it.

They had no future together. He’d seen to that eighteen years ago. To forget for a minute that he was no ordinary man was foolish.

And Chase Ryan was no fool.

Dear Reader,

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Susan Crosby

His Most Scandalous Secret

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SUSAN CROSBY

is fascinated by the special and complex communication of courtship, and so she burrows into her office to dream up warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines to satisfy her own love of happy endings.

She and her husband have two grown sons and live in the Central Valley of California. She spent a mere 7½ years getting through college and finally earned a B.A. in English a few years ago. She has worked as a synchronized swimming instructor, a personnel interviewer at a toy factory and a trucking company manager. Involved for many years behind the scenes in a local community theater, she has made only one stage appearance—as the rear end of a camel! Variety, she says, makes for more interesting novels.

Readers are welcome to write to her at P.O. Box 1836, Lodi, CA 95241.

One

She was asking for trouble.

Chase Ryan leaned both palms against his office window frame and watched the woman standing on the sidewalk about forty feet away, the bus she’d disembarked from rumbling off in a cloud of diesel smoke as she eyed his building, then the piece of paper she held.

Everything about her was soft, from the long, brunette curls to the swirling skirt that almost reached her ankles. Definitely not the type of woman usually found wandering the street in front of the Wilson Buckley Youth Center of San Francisco, of which Chase was administrator.

And he had the sneaking suspicion that the woman was none other than Tessa Rose, who, barring natural disaster, was the Center’s new preschool teacher. If that was the case, she should hop aboard the next bus and go back where she came from. No way was that woman equipped to handle the residents of this neighborhood.

His conscience weighing strong, he briefly considered withdrawing the job offer, although the Center was in dire need of another day care teacher. However, business was business. It wasn’t his job to warn people off, but to hire the most qualified applicants.

Not only was Tessa Rose the most qualified, she was the only applicant.

“Hey, Mr. Ryan? You through talkin’?”

Chase had forgotten he was in the middle of a discussion with the thirteen-year-old who came up beside him. He glanced at the boy. “I’m sorry, Luis. My mind wandered.”

His gaze returned involuntarily to look out the window as the woman made her way closer. His impression of softness deepened as the July afternoon breeze lifted her hair away from her face. A high-collared pink blouse hugged her breasts. Her floral-printed skirt molded born-to-carry-babies hips and endless legs.

Not one original thought crossed his mind. She was a fish out of water. A man could lose himself in her. She was the kind of woman you took home to meet your mother.

“Can I go now, Mr. Ryan?”

He didn’t look at the boy. “If you’re called in a second time for breaking the same rule, you forfeit your membership. I don’t want to see that happen, not after you were on the waiting list so long.”

“I didn’t know that damn was a swear word, Mr. Ryan. Honest.” Luis pressed his hands to the window. “Hey, isn’t that Stone Man?”

Chase spotted the teenager tracking the woman who had no business being in this neighborhood alone. She stopped in front of the youth center and rummaged through her purse, the oversize quilted bag an easy target for a kid who took what he wanted.

Chase twisted the window lock open. Before he could shove the sash up to alert her, the kid made his move—and the woman flattened him facedown across the hood of the nearest car, locking his arm behind his back. Her body jerked as she applied more pressure every so often. She spoke directly into his ear.

“Holy—” Luis gulped. “I mean, wow. Did you see that, Mr. Ryan? Shoot. Look at Stone Man go! Je—I mean, can you believe it? Is she one of those Amazons we studied in school?”

“Not tall enough,” Chase murmured, his awe less vocal than Luis’s but just as complete. He finished shoving open the window. “Need any help there, Miss?” he called.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” She dusted off her hands as Stone Man rounded the corner and disappeared. “You wouldn’t happen to be Chase Ryan?”

He nodded, still amazed by what she’d done.

“I’m Tessa Rose. I have an appointment with you.” She glanced at her watch, then back at him. Her smile was brilliant, blinding. Lethal. “I seem to be a minute late.”

“I’ll save us both some time, then, Miss Rose. If you want the job, you’ve got it.”

“I want the job.”

“Come up and we’ll talk details.”

She swung her bag over her shoulder and bounded up the stairs to the Center, enthusiasm in every step. How long until that spirit fizzled and burned out? He’d seen it dozens of times. He hated that it would happen to someone as fresh and full of passion as Miss Tessa Rose.

She stepped into his office, that megawatt smile in place.

“Hi. Who just flew by me faster than a speeding bullet?” she asked, looking down the hall for a second.

“That was Luis, who happened to witness your performance. Your reputation will be firmly established within fifteen minutes, Miss Rose.” Even her name was soft. He indicated a chair to her, then moved behind his desk and took a seat. “Nice job handling yourself out there.”

“Thanks.”

“I take it you saw him coming.”

“The minute I stepped off the bus. I also knew I couldn’t avoid him. He was too close.” She leaned forward. “Do I really have the job?”

“Our meeting was just a formality. The day care director, Chandra, wants you, and your references are glowing, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He tipped his chair back. “It’s my policy to run down the rules with everyone, whether staff, parent or child.”

“Because everyone is more comfortable when they know what’s expected of them, and what the consequences are when they fail to meet expectation.”

“Exactly.” Baby blue eyes, he noted, with laugh lines fanning from the corners. He knew she was twenty-nine, so the creases hadn’t come only from age. “Why do you want to work here, Miss Rose?”

She crossed her legs and relaxed into the chair. “Why wouldn’t I want to work here, Mr. Ryan?”

“This isn’t the safest neighborhood in the city.”

“It’s my understanding that you run an orderly facility. Within the walls, I expect I’ll be very safe. As for coming and going, you already saw how little problem that poses.”

“Your last job was at the day care center for the Schuman Corporation.” He knew the details of her résumé without looking. “Advantaged kids who probably were fed breakfast and clothed in the latest fashions before being dropped off. Parents who probably worked eight to five, and maybe even visited the child during their lunch hour.”

“Your point, Mr. Ryan?”

He watched her foot bounce impatiently, sending the fabric of her skirt rippling. A fresh, flowery scent made its way across the desk. Roses? She should be tending a garden herself in some picket-fenced little house somewhere, not fending off small-time teenage hoodlums. He gave her one last chance. “You’ll see things here you’ll wish you hadn’t, want to make changes in the children’s lives that can’t be made. You may be trained to defend your body from harm, but what about your heart?”

“Are you trying to scare me off?” For the first time a completely serious expression settled on her face. “I grew up not far from here, Mr. Ryan. Although the neighborhood has changed some, I doubt much will surprise me. I’ve read your mission statement and the rules that you make the kids sign and the forms the parents complete, agreeing not only to cooperate but to participate. I spent an afternoon working beside Chandra, and I was here when the children were picked up. I know who they are and what kind of life they lead. I’m not as naive as you seem to think. However, I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to do what I can to make things better for the children in this neighborhood. I believe that is your purpose, as well.”

“How long a commitment are you willing to make?”

“I know these kids need stable adult role models. I’ll be here.”

Ten seconds of silence followed her response. Their gazes had locked the moment she’d entered his office and hadn’t disconnected once. He finally looked away, but only long enough to pull some papers out of a file drawer and pass them to her. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thanks.” She plucked a pen and clipboard from her Mary Poppins bag and began to complete the legal documents.

“What’d you say to the boy when you had him spread-eagled on the car?”

“I offered to rearrange some of his anatomy, free of charge—in language he could understand, of course.” She flashed a smile. “He seemed to take me seriously. So, who is this Wilson Buckley the Center is named for?”

“You’ll meet him. Everyone calls him Sarge.” He watched her fill in the blanks on the W-4 form. “He retired from the police force nineteen years ago.”

“Which explains why his name doesn’t ring any bells. I didn’t have any brushes with the law until I was, oh, seventeen or so.”

“Speeding ticket?”

She tossed him a mischievous glance. “A sit-in at my high school, protesting the cafeteria food. A bunch of us got hauled in. My parents were not amused.”

“I don’t imagine they were. Did the situation change at the school after that?”

“Sure. After I graduated.”

“So, you made a difference for those who followed. Was that enough for you?”

“Well...no.”

Ambitious, determined and just self-centered enough. Good qualities for working at the Center, Chase thought.

“After that experience, I decided maybe I should become a cop,” she said. “I liked the way they handled the whole situation.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I kind of have a problem with guns. They pretty much scare me to death.” She held up a hand. “I know. I see the question in your eyes.” She leaned forward, intent on making her point. “I really thought I could do the job without having to use a weapon other than my mind. Sadly, I didn’t pass the psychological exam. Too high on idealism.”

He could have predicted that about her himself. “I’m sorry your career plans were shattered, Miss Rose.”

“I’m over it.” She cocked her head. “Do we call each other Mister and Miss forever?”

“Not when we’re alone...Tessa. The kids are required to, however.”

“Good.”

A long, lustrous curl drifted over her shoulder as she wrote, settling on her breast, quivering as she penned her answer to the who-do-we-call-in-an-emergency question. He clenched his teeth. Hiring Miss Tessa Rose was probably going to be the second biggest mistake in his thirty-two years of life. His gaze returned to that lucky curl. He wanted to wrap it around his finger, let his hand rest against the beautiful curve of flesh below it and slowly trace the tempting shape.

He pushed himself out of his chair. “I’ll be back.”

Tessa watched him stride from the room, stirring the air, disturbing her papers. She tapped her pen against her lips as she stared blindly at the form. In her search for information about the Center, she’d learned that Chase Ryan had a reputation for uncompromising expectation, but she hadn’t realized that uncompromising meant hard. Most people smiled in return for one offered. Not him. Not even the tiniest curve of his lips to be social, to be civilized.

And yet she didn’t feel any threat behind the edges and angles that defined him—the square, determined jaw; the strong, powerful body; the smoky gray eyes, fierce with never-give-in resolution. Only his hair hinted at anything remotely soft about him. although the dark hue seemed to match his personality. But the length surprised her, the ends caressing his shirt collar as they did.

Word on the street was that he lived by strict, self-imposed laws, and she could see for herself that he wouldn’t be easily reformed.

Her pen clattered as it hit the floor. Why had the thought even entered her head? Yes, she’d wanted to meet him, to understand him, but why in the world would she want to change him? Certainly she wanted to see a smile relax his face; however, she didn’t believe in forcing people to change. She’d learned from experience that it never worked.

“Something wrong?”

He had come up quietly behind her, or she’d been so lost in her thoughts, she just hadn’t heard him return. His eyes held a touch of concern.

“I dropped my pen.” It was a stupid thing to say—as if she couldn’t pick up a fallen pen from the floor. His hesitation asked a question into the void, but he crouched and retrieved the pen, then passed it to her.

Her hand brushed his. Her gaze flew to meet his. Nothing, nothing like this had ever happened to her. Someone must have switched on a spotlight inside her body. Heat and light filled her. Burned her. Perspiration pulled her clothes closer to her skin. Her throat tightened.

He removed his hand but stayed crouched beside her.

“Don’t be afraid of me.” His voice soothed. Calmed. Tempted.

Tempted?

What happened? She’d been in control, completely in control. She knew who he was. What kind of man he was—now and before. She was not afraid of him. Surely just his touch couldn’t—

“Can I get you something? A glass of water?”

The phone rang, a reprieve for her as he leaned across his desk to answer it, although he watched her the whole time. She gripped the pen and finished completing the forms.

When he hung up, she passed him the papers and stood, tugging her purse strap over her shoulder.

“Can you start tomorrow?” he asked.

She made herself answer. “Yes, I can.”

“Chandra said you were willing to take the late shift with the two- and three-year-olds.”

“That’s right. Yours is one of the few day care centers I know of that stays open until eight at night. I’m not really a morning person, so it works out great for me.”

He glanced at her paperwork. “Your address has changed since you first applied.”

“I found a new apartment nearby. I’m moving in today.” Small, but hers. All hers, for the first time in her life. Independence, hard-won and appreciated. Tonight was her first night on her own.

“People still look out for each other along that block.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re all right, Tessa? Maybe I should take you home.”

“I’m fine. Really. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He scanned her face once more. “Don’t be surprised if the boys here give you a wide berth for a while and the girls start hanging around, offering to help in the day care area when they’re not even signed up to work. Your legend will precede you. You might even consider teaching a self-defense class before the summer’s up.”

“One isn’t already offered?”

“It’s offered, but a new slant is always good, particularly because you’re a woman and you’re not a cop. Be extra alert when you leave here, Tessa. You humiliated the boy—Stone Man is what he’s called, by the way—and I don’t know whether he’ll avoid you now because of it or find some way to get even.”

“I’m always careful, but thanks for the advice.” She smiled her farewell and left.

He moved to watch her from his window. After a few seconds he could see her make her way down the stairs, using the handrail this time, taking a step at a time. She didn’t wait for a bus, but headed the opposite direction, toward where her new apartment was located.

He should have insisted on taking her home. He didn’t know Stone Man except by reputation. He’d never come to the Center, not even for events open to the public. Chase would check out the kid’s record, see how much of a threat he posed.

Long after Tessa disappeared from sight, Chase stayed at the window. Something had triggered a change in her. A delayed reaction to the confrontation with the teenager? Or was it himself? His friend Ariel told him once that he was the meanest-looking man she’d ever seen.

Except to shave and comb his hair once a day, he didn’t look in the mirror. He needed no reminders of who he was. What simmered inside him all the time was reminder enough, and kept him focused on his purpose. People did sometimes cast wary glances his way on the street. He always figured it was from natural caution, not because he appeared threatening.

Had Tessa been afraid of him?

She disturbed him, as well. Her softness teased him with promises he tried not to visualize. But even now he could smell her perfume and picture the womanly shape of her. A lot of power was packed into that body, some in physical strength, more in temptation.

He’d win this battle, though. Just as he’d won every other battle of temptation he’d fought.

As she unlocked her door, Tessa sighed, glad to be home. The walk from the Center to her apartment was barely five blocks, but she’d been constantly on alert. She wondered what the teenager’s real name was and why he’d been dubbed Stone Man. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen. So young to be living such an old life.

Her journey had also been reconnaissance, as she memorized her surroundings and checked out escape paths, getting to know the route from home to work. After the emotional scene with her family this morning—her last day living under their roof—and her bewildering response to Chase Ryan, she needed time alone.

And if she’d shut her door just two seconds sooner, she would have found sanctuary. Instead, her across-the-hall neighbor opened his door.

“Hi, Tess.”

She did not like being called Tess. She’d told him so yesterday when he’d shortened her name upon introduction. Obviously, he either didn’t listen or didn’t care. Or maybe because he used a shortened version of his own name, he did so with others. Not wanting to alienate a neighbor, though, she managed a smile for the thirty-something man who’d helped her father carry her sofa bed up the stairs.

“Hello, Norm.”

“Get settled in okay?”

“Yes, thanks. I still have some boxes to unpack, though, so if you’ll excuse me.”

From behind him, a young woman slipped out of his apartment, planting a kiss on his lips as she passed by. “See you later, honey.” She gave Tessa the once-over before sending a distinctly He’s mine admonition with her eyes, silent and direct. “I’m Marcy. I live downstairs in 1B.”

Relieved that Norm was involved with someone, Tessa offered her hand. “Tessa Rose.”

Marcy must have believed the Message received answer in Tessa’s return gaze and abrupt handshake, because she visibly relaxed. She nodded, then hurried down the stairs.

“Your girlfriend?” she asked Norm, who hadn’t shut his door yet.

“Yep.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets. “Anything you need help with?”

“Everything’s fine, but thank you for asking. Bye.” She retreated before he could reply. Resting against her closed door, she surveyed her domain. Small was hardly the word for it. One medium-size room, a utilitarian bathroom, a one-person kitchen with counter bar and one surprisingly roomy walk-in closet with enough space for her meager belongings.

It was hers, though, from the sofa bed where she would sit and sleep to the four place settings of dinnerware she had yet to unpack. Twenty-nine years old and finally living on her own. No more accounting for where she was every second of the day. No more listening to her mother worry aloud about the potential dangers facing them everywhere. No more seeing her father age day by day.

No more enduring her brother sitting in his wheelchair by the front window, watching the world go by, venturing out once a month or so, otherwise living in a television world.

He hadn’t said anything when she announced she’d found her own apartment and was moving out, but she figured he was glad to have her gone. Her pleas to do something for himself always fell on deaf ears. He hadn’t done anything to improve his life for years. And she’d taken all the whining she could bear about his bad luck.

She pushed away from the door, stripped down to her underwear right there in the middle of the room and tugged on a T-shirt and cutoffs so that she could finish putting her home in order. She felt a little wicked going braless, even though she knew no one would catch her at it, but she draped her bra over the doorknob, anyway. If someone did come, she could always put it on fast.

The phone rang just as she started scrubbing the bathtub. Peeling off her rubber gloves as she went, she hurried into the living room.

Breathless, she picked it up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“This is Chase Ryan.”

Tessa sank onto the couch. “Hi.”

“I wanted to make sure you got home all right.”

The sound of his voice did things to her. Made her shiver. Made her unconfined breasts feel strangely fuller.

“Tessa? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” His voice, the memory of his serious face and the admiration he hadn’t hidden for the way she’d handled Stone Man streaked through her mind. She wasn’t used to being treated as a capable adult. He couldn’t have any idea how much it meant to her that he had.

“No sign of the teenager?” he asked.

“None. Thank you for your concern, though.”

“I’m having a friend in the police department check him out, just to be sure. He’s fairly new to the area, and he’s gained a reputation fast with the kids around here.”

“Is he the kind of boy you try to get involved at the Center? Do you seek out the troubled kids, Chase, and set them on a different path?”

“I do what I can. Sometimes I succeed.”

Sometimes I don’t. The unspoken words carried resignation. How had she become connected to him so fast that she could hear what he didn’t say?

Because what’s forbidden is always more of an allure.

Tessa ignored her thoughts and stretched out on the sofa, letting all the sensations settle in. She was hot and cold and shaky and...alive. Maybe it was just reaction to her success—her emancipation from her old life and inauguration to her new one.

Regardless, Chase Ryan was a bonus she hadn’t counted on. Now she had to figure out what to do about it. He needed her—or someone like her.

And her family would die if she—

“Tessa? Where’d you go?”

“Um, I was just thinking that maybe you could go ahead and schedule a self-defense class for the weekend. Might as well capitalize on my current fame.”

“I’ll get on it right away.”

She didn’t move after she hung up the phone. Instead, she closed her eyes and imagined his face. An old image superimposed itself for a moment, then got shoved behind the newer one without effort. She’d entered into a risky business. The route she’d intended to take no longer seemed the right one. No longer made sense. No longer seemed plausible, even.

Because in all of her plans, she hadn’t counted on there being so much to lose.

Two

Chase knew the minute that Tessa arrived at the Center for her first day at work. He didn’t leave his office to greet her, but let her go to the day care center on her own.

The Center hummed with talk of her. She’d attained sainthood with just one miracle.

“Good morning.”

He turned from the window. She hadn’t gone to day care first, after all. There she stood, in a denim jumper, a baby blue T-shirt that matched her eyes, and sneakers painted with teddy bears and balloons. Head to toe, she looked like a preschool teacher.

“Morning,” he said. “Are you ready for this?”

“You bet. I hardly slept last night, I was so excited.” She leaned against the door frame, as if she had all the time in the world, not the three minutes she really did have before she should be reporting to Chandra.

“I posted a sign-up sheet for your self-defense class,” he said. “It hadn’t been up an hour before it was half-full. I expect that by the end of the day, it’ll be a sellout.”

“You can schedule two or three sessions if you want, in order to fill the demand. I’ll be concentrating more on awareness than technique, and smaller groups would work better. I’d also prefer coed.”

“We pretty much do everything coed here. I don’t believe in segregating them. The only way the Center can be successful is to have everyone a part of everything, like a family. We preach tolerance. We try to elevate everyone’s self-esteem. If we don’t, we lose the girls to single motherhood and the boys to gangs.”

Soft. Her eyes were so soft as she smiled at him. Tempted him. As if to say that he could share with her, things he’d never shared.

“I like your philosophy, Mr. Ryan,” she said.

“It’s not mine alone. It’s what’s been proven to work.” He walked around his desk and came up beside her, close enough to smell her perfume, close enough to thread his fingers through her curls, if he’d wanted. If he’d been allowed such a luxury. “I’ll walk you to day care.”

“I can manage. I just wanted to say good morning. It’s important to greet people, don’t you think? And to let them know when you’re leaving.”

So—he’d been put on notice that she would be saying hello and goodbye every day. That she would seek him out. That he should seek her out if he was leaving for some reason.

“Are we allowed to hug?” she asked.

His hands curled into fists. “What?”

“Do the adults hug the children here? There are so many rules these days. Sick, sad rules because people cry abuse so easily.”

“Oh.” Disappointment swept through him before he could squelch it. He’d already locked on to the image of him holding her. Her holding him. “We encourage appropriate physical contact.”

“Now there’s a textbook answer.” Her eyes danced merrily. She feathered the hair on his arm with her fingertips until his skin rose in bumps. “Is that appropriate?”

“Try it on one of the boys and you may have to use every self-defense technique you know.”

She tossed her hair. “But I’m safe with you?”

“Not safe at all, Miss Rose.”

Her eyes flickered with interest. He never flirted with women. Never. But she was digging deeper into him than anyone had and finding a place he hadn’t known existed.

“Safe is for wimps,” she said.

“And we all agree you’re not a wimp.”

“Oh, I have my moments.” Her hand drifted away. “I’m sure I’ll see you occasionally throughout the day.”

“Count on it.”

A smile came and went. “I will.”

He let out a long, slow breath as she walked away, leaving a trail of fragrance and an eyeful of softly swaying hips. He swallowed, hungry for her, at the same time wary of the hunger.

Maybe it was time to take his first vacation in nine years.

The last cherubic face had been washed and the last squirming body covered with a blanket in the nap room before Tessa found time to draw a deep breath. She turned a comical expression on Chandra, the day care director.

“Lively bunch,” Tessa said. In her charge were twenty preschoolers and four aides, an excellent balance. Still, learning their names and personalities made a person a little foggy for a while. And she’d only been at work a few hours.

“Thank goodness for the teenagers who volunteer to help. During the school year, we only have two aides each. It can be overwhelming,” Chandra said, looking at her watch. “I wonder where Dodger is. He should have been here an hour ago.”

“Who’s Dodger?”

“He delivers our food order three times a week. We just qualified for a huge grant that will allow us more fresh fruits and vegetables and enough milk, cereal and pasta to feed this small army. Dodger’s been getting here later and later, though. Guess I’m gonna have to complain to his boss.” She pushed herself out of the chair. “Grab some lunch while you can, Tessa. I’ll be on the phone awhile.”

Tuna sandwich had never tasted so good, Tessa thought as she leaned her head against the back of her chair, closed her eyes and chewed. She liked the environment of this place, so different from the Schuman Corporation, where everything was updated continually, the latest toys and computers purchased frequently to entertain and teach. Here, however, they made do with castoffs that had been cleaned up and lots of homemade toys and games. And the kids were gems. Unspoiled, full of giggles, happy for the attention.

A sixth sense told her that someone was watching her. She took her time opening her eyes, knowing that it was Chase.

It wasn’t. A pony tailed young man stood in the doorway, a blue baseball cap perched backward on his head, a handcart loaded with boxes in front of him.

“You the new teach?” he asked, coming into the room, heading toward the door that led to the kitchen. “I’m Dodger.”

She stood, uneasy. She didn’t know how long he’d been watching her while she was lost in her own thoughts. “I’ll tell Mrs. Moore you’re here.”

“Not to worry, babe. I know where I’m goin’.”

“My name is Miss Rose.”

He eyed her coolly, then shrugged and turned away. “Whatever. You want to come along and sign for this stuff?”

A masculine voice answered, “I will.”

Chase came into the room, his expression fiercer than usual. “Thank you, Miss Rose. I’ll take care of this. Finish your lunch.”

She could hear the men talking as she sat again. She wanted to creep closer to the kitchen, to hear what Chase was telling the young man. Dodger came out in a minute, winked at her, then pushed the handcart ahead of him.

“He’ll be back with more,” Chase said, leaning against the doorway. “I’ll stay until he’s done.”

“Okay.”

“I explained the rules. No one swears, no one speaks disrespectfully to another. He’s not part of the Center, but while he’s here, he’s expected to conform.”

“He doesn’t look like a conformist,” Tessa said, smiling at his paternal attitude. “Care for a sandwich? I’ve got plenty to share.”

She could see him automatically start to say no, then his answer eased into the affirmative. He sat beside her, accepting the tuna sandwich. She shoved some chips his way and opened a large plastic bag filled with oatmeal-and-raisin cookies.

“How is your day going?” he asked.

“Great. The kids are amazing.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing bores them, for one thing. And they share pretty well, considering their ages. The teenagers who are helping out are terrific. too. I’ll be sorry to lose them when school starts.”

“You’ll have more help than the early-in-the-day teachers because once school lets out for the day, the kids start piling in. Everyone has to pay to be a member here, and if they can’t afford it, they work off the equivalent in time. We always have help. We count on it. Did you make the cookies?”

“Mmm-hmm. I didn’t have any champagne, so I launched my new apartment by making cookies.”

Dodger returned and made a straight line for the kitchen. As he came back through, Tessa offered him some cookies, as well. She was aware of Chase angling her way, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles, as if there for the duration. She wondered if he was aware of what a mark of ownership his actions were.

Dodger grabbed a handful of cookies. “Thanks, Miss Rose.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Dodger.”

He laughed, then his gaze slid to Chase, effectively ending the conversation.

“You are formidable,” Tessa said to Chase when Dodger left.

“Am I?”

She smiled. “You’re a natural.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“Formidable, or a natural?”

“Either.”

“Yes, you are. This is your kingdom.”

He wadded his sandwich wrap into a ball and tossed it into a wastebasket. “The Center is a democracy. I just oversee it.”

“You rule it.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. Ten people make up the board of directors. Of those ten, five are teenagers. The remaining five aren’t politicians or civic leaders but people from this community, people who have a vested interest in the success of this venture.”

“But ultimately you have the final word.” She watched his bland expression for any nuance of change.

“I’ve only intervened once in a board decision. The kids wanted to purchase some televisions. They’d even swayed two of the adults to their side. I said no.”

“Why?”

“Because they can watch television at home. I want them busy here. Not just physically, with sports, but mentally. There’s a quiet room for them to do homework or read. They form discussion groups, and I don’t put limits on the subjects. The fact they’re communicating, especially with each other, is what’s important. Peer counseling is critical. They learn that they can deal with their problems using their minds, not their fists and certainly not weapons. I can’t tell you how many times a child has confided in another child here. Some of them have learned the social service system better than I have. They do their own referrals. It works. And I usually catch the ones that fall through the cracks.”

“Chandra told me that you have a master’s degree in child psychology.”

He nodded. “And I counsel when and where I can. But the kids respond best to their peers. I not only allow it, I encourage it.”

The sound of a cranky child cut short Tessa’s response. They both looked up as the aide who monitored the nap room came in carrying a fussy two-year-old.

“Sorry to disturb your lunch, Miss Rose, but Christa woke up crying. I can’t get her to tell me if something hurts.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. Come here, sweetheart.”

The toddler had other ideas. She hurled herself in Chase’s direction, trying to escape Jennifer’s hold. “Want you.”

Tessa shrugged as he lifted his brows in silent question. He was familiar to the children, and she was new. She didn’t expect them to come to her yet, and certainly wouldn’t force it.

He took Christa into his arms. She cuddled against him, sniffling dramatically, jamming her thumb in her mouth, her tears slowing.

“Magic touch,” Jennifer said to Tessa as she walked away. “The kids love him.”

Tessa watched him calm the softly hiccuping little girl and knew exactly why no child would fear him. He spoke to Christa in hushed tones, the gentle huskiness accompanied by an equally comforting touch of his hand, large and soothing, as he stroked her long, dark hair and tiny back.

He may not smile, but he brought contentment. He was a man people could confide in, knowing their secret was safe. His word was his bond, integrity his covenant. All the research she’d done on him indicated it. Now she could see for herself. Children were the ultimate barometer of a person’s character.

Chase Ryan was genuine.

He met Tessa’s gaze with a questioning one. She didn’t know what he’d seen in her expression—too much had passed through her head in a brief period of time. She smiled at him, the only answer she could give.

“She’s asleep,” he said. “I’ll put her down.”

“Thank you.”

He looked at Tessa a moment longer. Then, incredibly, he cupped the side of her head, his palm resting against her hair, his fingertips barely touching her scalp, his thumb brushing her cheek. Had she looked as needy as Christa?

“Let me know if Dodger gives you any trouble, Tessa.”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, then crossed her arms as he took his hand away. “So, that’s how you rule so effectively.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, you tricky man, you. You lure with touch, then you give orders. You figure while I’m mesmerized, I’ll agree to anything. Nicely done, Mr. Ryan.”

“I’m not that calculated.”

“Then your instincts are exceptional.”

“Maybe we could talk about it over dinner sometime.”

She liked that he’d surprised himself with the invitation, for clearly he had. His expression closed up instantly—too late, of course, but a shutdown nonetheless. “I’d love to,” she said simply. “Name the day.”

She’d never thought a person’s frown endearing before. His tugged at her heart, which was already fluttering from his surprisingly tender touch and the intensity of his stormy gray gaze.

“I’ll get back to you,” he said.

Tessa smiled as he left the room with Christa. What a fascinating man. Strong-willed, devoted to his work, definitely a leader and yet vulnerable, too. She didn’t know which part of him attracted her more. Or maybe it was the contradictions that were so enticing.

Dinner with Chase? A personal relationship with him certainly hadn’t been in her plans when she first applied for the job, but she couldn’t deny its appeal now. Who would have thought it?

Late that night Chase locked the dead bolt behind him, then climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment over the Center. Ten o’clock and all’s well—except his peace of mind.

Dinner. Where had that invitation come from?

Yes, he was attracted to Tessa. But he’d been attracted to women before and been able to control the direction of a relationship. With Tessa, he found himself saying and doing things he couldn’t predict and certainly hadn’t planned.

He flipped on the light switch as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, illuminating his living room. Some of his friends would shout hallelujah. He’d often been accused of being too controlled—Sarge’s word. Les said he was hopeless. Sebastian called him clueless. But what were friends for if not to tell you the truth about yourself?

Controlled, hopeless, clueless. And Tessa’s description—formidable. Not that it fazed the soft, fragrant, cookie baker who made him yearn for things he’d scratched off his wish list years ago. His commitment to his purpose was complete—no child would experience what he’d experienced, not if he had anything to say about it. And dividing himself between his commitment of the past eighteen years and the temptation that Tessa represented now just wouldn’t work. Both would suffer if he fragmented his attention.

He didn’t think Tessa would settle for second place. Nor should she.

He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, picked up the phone and dialed.

“O’Keefe.”

“What’d you get on Stone Man?”

“Geez, Chase. Give me a break, will you? I’m a detective, not a miracle worker. I’ve been chasing bad guys all day and couldn’t get to it.”

He eased onto a sturdy bar stool. “This is important, Les. Tessa’s life could be at risk.”

“I’m right in the middle of the first date I’ve had in months. I’ll get to it ASAP, I promise.”

“Tomorrow.”

Les sighed, a pretty good indication that Chase was testing their eighteen-year friendship. “All right. All right. Tomorrow.”

“So, Les, are you wearing a dress and everything tonight?”

“Go to heck, Ryan.”

“Before you slam the phone down,” he said quickly, “check out a guy named Dodger, too, would you? He works at the food bank. I want to know his background.”

“Why?”

Because I didn’t like the way he looked at Tessa today. “He’s in and out several times a week. Something about him bothers me.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thanks, Les. I appreciate it.”

“But don’t call me, okay? I’ll call you when I have some information.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

The phone line went dead.

Grabbing a couple of plums and the remainder of Tessa’s oatmeal-and-raisin cookies, which she’d left with him when she’d said good night, Chase turned out the light and wandered into his bedroom. His walls were lined with cement-block and wood-plank bookshelves, filled with everything from textbooks to best-sellers. They were his indulgence, his one luxury and were organized systematically so that he could put his hands on any book he wanted easily. The few people who’d been in the room always stared at the minilibrary.

He stripped and climbed in bed with his snack and a book on inner-city youth. Before long, he set the book aside. He bit into a plum, the tangy juice and sweet flesh filling his mouth as he contemplated the ceiling—and Tessa.

Most of the women he knew were either single mothers struggling just to get by, or social workers embittered by the system that tied their hands, or, as in Les’s case, a police detective who saw the worst of human beings day in and day out. Women worn out by the pressure of just getting by. But survivors. He’d always sympathized with them and admired that they got through each day without breaking. Usually, the stronger the woman, the more he admired her.

And yet...there was Tessa Rose. Strong, yes. Physically, anyway. He didn’t know enough about her to know if her character was as strong, although he suspected as much. But she was soft, too. Temptingly soft.

He plucked a cookie from the bag and bit into it, its sweet raisins and chewy texture a sensual experience for the man whose most gourmet meal that week consisted of scrambled eggs and salsa, wrapped in a tortilla. Easy and cheap. That was his motto in the kitchen.

A homemade cookie was a rarity, either a Christmas gift or a cooking project in the Center’s kitchen.

He looked at the bedside clock, debated a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d already memorized.

Tessa answered with a tentative hello.

“It’s Chase. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

She laughed. “I’m just so relieved it’s not my mother.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Heavens, no. I’m a night owl. I’ve been doing some prep work for a craft project for tomorrow.”

“I’ve been thinking about dinner.” How we shouldn’t take the chance, he thought. How mixing business and pleasure is never a wise move. “How about Saturday, after you give the self-defense class?”

“That would be great.”

He just wouldn’t kiss her good night. Then things wouldn’t get complicated. “Do you like Mexican food?”

“My favorite.”

He wouldn’t even hold her hand. “Good.”

“Chase?”

They’d just talk. Get to know each other. Try to bring in some reality to dim the fantasy that had built too fast. “Yeah?”

“No one is forcing you to do this, you know.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you sound like someone has a gun to your head. If you’ve decided that you don’t want to go out with me, I’ll understand. I guess.”

Ah, a graceful way out. She was perceptive and generous. This could be the end of it, no questions asked. It never had to come up again. “No one forces me to do anything, Tessa.”

Good goin’, Ryan. Come across like some Neanderthal. That’s just what every woman wants in her life.

“I’m sure they don’t,” she said.

A muffled noise punctuated the silence that followed.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Rose?” he asked, strongly suspicious of the sound.

“No.” She choked a little. “Yes.”

“Why?” He knew why. He knew exactly why. What an idiot he was. Why did he become like an adolescent with her?

He knew the answer to that, too.

“I really like you, Chase.”

“But?”

“No but. I’ve never met a man like you.”

“Is that a problem for you?”

“It might be, at some point. But for now, I’m just enjoying it.”

“What are you concerned about, Tessa?”

“This is the first time I’ve been on my own, which seems amazing, I know, given my age. I can’t mess it up, Chase.”

“And I’m a threat to your independence?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to expand on the answer. Was he just supposed to make his own assumptions about her meaning?

“Chase?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe I’m a threat to you, as well.”

“No maybe about it.”

“Good night,” she said softly, then hung up without waiting for his response.

He dropped the receiver and pressed his palms to his closed eyes. He wanted her beside him. Needed to hold her. Yearned to touch her soft curls as they danced down her back. Craved to have her fragrance fill his head. Hungered to know if her skin felt as velvety as it looked. Ached for her breasts to press against him, for her legs to wrap around his as their bodies merged.

He opened his eyes, needing a distraction, but the starkly erotic image still hovered, not the least hazy.

Fast. It’d all happened too fast. Which qualified what he felt as infatuation. Which meant, given time, he could control it.

They had no future together. He’d seen to that eighteen years ago. To forget even for a minute that he wasn’t a normal man was foolish.

And he was no fool.

Three

“How many of you have been victims of violence?”

Tessa looked around the room at the hands raised in response to her question. She’d decided to run separate classes based on age. This group was all teenagers. In this area of the city it explained why so many hands were up.

“How many of you had any kind of warning?”

Only a couple this time. Probably home violence, Tessa decided, a threat carried out.

“How many of you felt helpless?”

The hands came up again. She came around to the front of the podium, removing the barrier between them.

“The purpose of this class is to prevent you from being a victim. I’m not going to show you fancy moves, because they rarely work, especially if you have only a split second to react What I will show you is how to defend yourself well enough to escape.”

“Miss Rose?”

“Yes, Luis?”

“That was some fancy move you put on Stone Man.”

Tessa had anticipated the comment. She glanced at Chase, who leaned against the back wall watching her, a gray-haired man beside him. The infamous Sarge, unless she missed her guess.

“That’s a good point, Luis. However, I was prepared for him. Because I’m always aware of who and what is around me, I knew he was probably going to try to grab my purse. I also knew I couldn’t escape it, because he was too close.”

“How’d you know he was gonna grab it?”

“He slowed down when he saw me. He eyed my bag. I knew what was coming. I stopped at a place on the street where I was sure I could handle him. The second he reached out, I grabbed him. Before he knew it, he was hugging the hood of a car. Yes, I’ve learned the self-defense moves, but more importantly, I’ve learned to see what’s ahead, what could hurt me and how to make sure it doesn’t happen.

“That’s what I want you to learn. That, and how to get away. There’s nothing tricky about it. There’s also a chance you could get hurt. However, your goal is to get away, and you may have to fight back. But your injuries will probably be less than what your attacker had in mind for you.”

Every gaze was focused on her. She didn’t know whether to be pleased that they sat so attentively or sad that their lives necessitated the class at all.

“Okay. I’ll need some volunteers to act the roles of the criminals, preferably boys.” At the instant vocal response, she said, “I’m not being sexist. This is as realistic as I can make it. Part of the allure of crime for males is their power over females. Women don’t commit violent crimes in anywhere near the same numbers.”

“And guys are stronger,” one of the girls called out as several boys shuffled to the front of the classroom.

Tessa smiled. “Depends on the situation. But we’ll deal with that when we get to it. We’re going out of the classroom for a few minutes. Mr. Ryan? Would you take over, please?”

He nodded and headed to the front of the class. As he passed by, he grabbed her. Tessa reacted instantly and automatically. Shouting, she pretended to make two quick, debilitating moves, then she turned and ran, screaming. He huddled.

Silence filled the room. The shock on the kids’ faces faded when she stopped at the podium and looked at them. They started to chatter amongst themselves. She raised her voice to be heard.

“Mr. Ryan and I set that up ahead of time, although I didn’t know when or what he was going to do. I wanted to be as surprised as possible. He did surprise me—” she looked his way “—because I expected him to wait until later in the class. Now let’s go over what I just did.”

“She came dam close to hurting me, even pretending,” Chase said. “Her scream really caught me off guard, and her strength, as well. I thought I was the one in control, but she proved me wrong immediately. I forgot my own plans.”

Most of the kids stood to get a closer look as Tessa moved beside Chase and continued her lecture.

“You might be tempted to carry a weapon of some sort, but remember—a weapon can be taken away and used against you. So, you need to use weapons that they can’t take. Your fingers. Hands. Elbows. Your feet and knees. I’ll show you later.”

She looked up at Chase, mentally measuring his height. He stared back, his eyes almost silver in hue. “You’re what, six inches—” She stopped, realizing how he might inteipret her question. “Um—”

“Seven,” he said under his breath.

“Um, Mr. Ryan is, um, six or seven inches taller than me—” she emphasized the word taller, and ignored his eyes, sparkling with what she strongly suspected was laughter “—and outweighs me by probably fifty or sixty pounds. Yet, if I’d used full force against him, he’d be on the floor right now. And I wasn’t even mad. When you add anger and fear to your strength, there’s little you can’t do, at least one-on-one.”

“Okay, let’s recap,” Tessa said two hours later. “What’s the best way to get yourself out of trouble?”

“Practice,” someone called out.

“How?”

“In your head, every day. And with your friends. It makes you be prepared for anything.”

“Good. What’s your best weapon?”

“Havin’ you along, Miss Rose,” Luis said.

“Your hands and feet,” one of the girls said when the laughter died.

“Screaming,” said another.

“Biting.”

“All correct answers,” Tessa said. “Make a lot of noise, fight as hard as you can and just as dirty.”

“Don’t believe anything your attacker tells you, ’cause he’s lying,” the quietest girl in the class said. She hadn’t spoken during the entire two hours. “Get hurt fighting back, if you have to, instead of getting raped or—or worse.”

“Exactly. Thanks for reminding us, Sherry.”

“Don’t ever let ’em take you somewhere. Crash the car, or make them crash it somehow,” Luis added.

“Good. What’s your primary goal?”

“To get away.”

“Right. Everybody say that together, loud.”

“To get away!” they yelled.

“Nobody tries to be a hero, right?”

“Right!”

“Mr. Ryan, do you want to add anything?” Tessa asked.

Chase approached the podium. “I think that at least once a month we should practice what we’ve learned today. And I say ‘we’ because I’ve been as much a student as you today. Miss Rose, that was an excellent program. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that we all feel more prepared. Thank you very much.”

She scooted the teenagers out of the room, embarrassed at the applause, happy to have everything she’d learned in the past twenty years or so be received with such enthusiasm.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Chase indicated the man standing, posture perfect, at the back of the room, as he had been for the two hours of the program.

She judged him to be in his seventies, although his solid body could have passed for a lot younger. His buzz-cut gray hair seemed perfect for his almost military demeanor.

“Tessa, this is Wilson Buckley, the man the Center is named for. Sarge, meet Tessa Rose.”

They shook hands. His was a firm handshake, not bone-crushing. Straightforward. Undoubtedly just like the man.

“I don’t think I’ve been witness to a better program,” Sarge said directly. “You oughta take your show on the road. Run this at all the middle schools and high schools in the city.”

“We had a hard enough time getting some of the parents here to sign permission slips,” Chase said. “I had to call a lot of them personally. They live in denial of the dangers their children face today that they didn’t.”

“With any luck,” Tessa said, “the kids will share their knowledge with their siblings and friends, maybe even their parents. Mr. Buckley, I’m really happy to meet you. Chase speaks so highly of you.”

“Call me Sarge.”

Chase excused himself to go change for dinner, leaving the two alone. They sat at a nearby table.

“How do you like working here?” Sarge asked.

“It’s the best job I’ve had, the best people I’ve worked with. You must be proud.”

“To have the Center named after me? Embarrassing, to tell you the truth. Seems like a person should be dead before they name something after ’em.”

Tessa smiled. “I think it’s nice to be recognized while you can enjoy the notoriety.”

“I couldn’t talk Chase out of it.” He rested his arms on the table and clasped his hands. “He’s single-minded about most things.”

“I’ve kind of noticed that about him. He works too hard, too.”

“You thinkin’ about changin’ that, Miss Tessa Rose?”

The way he said her name made her pause. “You don’t approve?”

He waited a few beats before he answered. “How is your family?”

Her heart rate escalated. “My family?”

“Yeah, family. Father, mother, brother...”

“You know them?”

“Used to know pretty much everybody hereabouts. Lost track of some.”

“I see.”

He leaned toward her. “I don’t know what your motives are, but I’m tellin’ you, don’t you hurt that boy.”

Tessa swallowed. “It’s the last thing I want.”

“I can see you’re a decent person, Tessa Rose, and I don’t think you’d want to hurt him. But you could and likely will. Whatever he did, he’s paid for it. Long ago.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I just wanted to meet him. Then when I met him, I wanted to know him. The more I know him, the more I like him.” She leaned forward. “Are you going to tell him?”

Sarge pushed himself upright and stared hard at her. “That should come from you. But have a care, Miss Tessa Rose. Some people who seem strongest on the outside are the most fragile inside.”

Tessa nodded, unable to utter a sound. She sat motionless until Chase rejoined her a little later.

“Sarge gone?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He bent to capture her gaze. “Are you all right?”

She made herself smile as she stood. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Chase realized he was more aware of his surroundings than he’d ever been as they walked to the restaurant. It wouldn’t be dark for a couple of hours yet, making it easier to be on the lookout for Stone Man, reminding Chase that Les hadn’t gotten back to him with information on the teenager or on Dodger yet.

He let the thought go. The cool summer evening seemed made for holding hands and strolling. But strolling was a bad idea, according to Tessa’s lecture, and he’d also promised himself no hand-holding. He was trying hard to remember why.

They walked several blocks without speaking. “Are you worn out?” he asked finally, curious about her silence.

“Kind of. The kids were great, though, weren’t they? I loved the way the girls wouldn’t let the boys joke about anything. As soon as the boys got as serious as the girls, they really accomplished a lot.”

“It’s a good group.”

“Thanks to you.”

“These kids weren’t hopeless to start with. My goal has always been to hook them in before they get involved in things they shouldn’t And some of the best counselors we’ve had are gang members who’ve matured out of the gangs. They don’t pull any punches when they describe what the life is really like. But kids who don’t have much of a family life are the most vulnerable, because they’re searching for a connection, and they’ll settle for what they can get. We have to catch them at the right moment.” They stopped at a traffic signal. He found himself eyeing the drivers as each car passed.

“Tell me about Sarge. How did you meet him?” she asked.

“I was assigned to his foster care.”

“Why?”

The old hurts should have faded some by now, but they hadn’t. It didn’t seem as if they ever would. “I never knew my father. My mother disappeared when I was fourteen. To this day I don’t know what happened to her. I was made a ward of the court. Sarge had just retired from the force and decided to take me in, and then other boys through the years. But I was his first. We have almost a father and son bond, at least as much of one as I’ll ever know.”

“Is that why you started the Center?”

“How do you know I started it?”

“It’s public record, Chase. I did a lot of research on the Center and you before I applied for the job. I had to know what I was getting into, especially since I would be supporting myself fully for the first time. I couldn’t afford a job that might not be there in a few months.”

When they settled at their table at the restaurant and had ordered drinks, he questioned her about being on her own for the first time.

“I was overprotected.” She grimaced. “That’s an understatement. I was smothered. And good daughter that I was, I didn’t venture away from the family fold even when I went to college or when I got a full-time job. My brother is disabled, and my mother can’t always cope with him. So it fell to me a lot.”

“Why did you make the move now?”

The waitress set two bottles of beer and some chips and salsa on the table. Tessa took a long sip before she answered. If Sarge had figured her out already, how long until Chase did?

“They say women have their midlife crisis ten years earlier than men,” she said. “That’s the only explanation I can give without sounding extremely selfish. My brother needs to learn to help himself, but my mother doesn’t see that. My parents argue about it quite a bit. Anyway, it’s time to test my wings. It’s hard to have a social life when your parents grill every guy, practically demanding proof of clean police, DMV and medical records.”

“Social life,” Chase mused. “Remind me of what that is.”

She swirled a finger around the lip of the bottle as she tilted her head and smiled at him. “Interaction between man and woman. Movies. Meals. Conversation. Physical contact.”

He reached across the table and took her hand, toying with her fingers before linking them with his and holding tight “I had the best of intentions about tonight,” he said, his voice gruff. “But no willpower.”

“I’m so glad.”

“I don’t want to mislead you. My life—”

“Social contact, Chase. That’s all this is. It’s good for both of us.”

He released her hand and sat back, eyeing her as he swigged his beer. “So, would your parents approve of me?”

My parents would have me kidnapped and taken to a deprogrammer.

“Are you ready to order?”

The waitress’s intrusion sent the conversation in a different direction, and they didn’t speak of personal history again. She’d been encouraged by the apparent laughter in his eyes earlier at the Center and so tried again, but couldn’t tease the slightest smile out of him. Deciding not to push it, she settled back in her chair and relaxed, enjoying his observations on life, admiring the tough stand he took on an individual’s accountability for his or her own actions. He lived in a black-and-white world—it was the only way he could function—while hers was much more gray, with room to change her opinion, given the right debate.

They stayed at the table for hours. The restaurant was obviously a favorite hangout of Chase’s, as he seemed to know almost everyone there. Curious looks lit on her, but no one teased him or pried. They just welcomed her to their world, making her feel at home.

The ocean breezes nipped at them as they walked to her apartment later. Warmed by his hand wrapped around hers, she lifted her face to the wind and smiled as her hair blew behind her.

“Luis asked me that first day,” he said, “if you were one of those Amazons he’d studied in school. I told him you weren’t tall enough. But you do look like I’ve always suspected a Valkyrie would.”

“Weren’t they women warriors, too, like the Amazons?”

“Not quite. They chose the warriors who were invited to die heroically in battle.”

She flashed him a grin. “What tipped you off? My bloodthirsty cries?”

“You do have a powerful set of, uh, lungs.”

“Why, Mr. Ryan. You’re flirting with me! I’m flattered.”

“You have wisdom, Tessa. And strength. That’s why I think of you as a Valkyrie.”

“Even though I could bring about a warrior’s destruction?” The image planted itself in her mind and stayed. She didn’t like it.

“I guess he’d die happy.”

She squeezed his hand. “I thought I was supposed to be the idealist here, and you the pragmatist. If you get fanciful on me, I won’t know how to deal with you.”

“That suddenly holds appeal for me.”

They entered the tiny lobby of her apartment house, the stairs directly in front of them. She turned around and climbed the steep steps backward, watching him, trying to read his expression as she clasped his hand tighter with each step up.

“You’re going to trip on your skirt,” Chase cautioned, tension creeping into him.

When she almost did trip, she let go of his hand, then scooped up the fabric and held it almost to her knees.

“So you do have legs. I’ve been wondering,” he said.

“Have you?”

“Yeah. You never wear jeans?”

“Rarely. I like the feel of fabric drifting around me.”

His imagination wandered on a sensual journey. When she reached the top of the stairway, and he stood three steps below her, he stopped her from moving on. He ran his free hand along her leg, starting at her ankle, gliding slowly to her knee. His gaze locked with hers. “Your skin is so soft. Like you, Tessa. Like all of you.” He climbed the steps to join her on the landing. “I haven’t had softness in my life.”

She slid her arms around his waist as he framed her face with his hands. Her breasts rested against him. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the contact, then pressed his lips to her temple, inhaling the clean, flowery fragrance of the curls tickling his nose. He bent closer still, threading his fingers through her hair, rubbing his cheek leisurely against the silken tresses, feeling her pull herself more snugly against him, a soft sigh escaping—

“Sorry, Tess. Just passing through.”

They jumped apart at the interruption. Chase saw her struggle to focus on the man who waited on the stair below them, needing to get by.

“Um. Norm, hi. Please excuse us.”

She took a step back, introducing the men at the same time. Chase followed her, leaving enough room for her neighbor to walk past. The man didn’t hesitate to leave them alone, but the interruption brought about a return of Chase’s earlier intention not to let this relationship get too serious.

When Norm shut his apartment door, Chase spoke to Tessa before she could invite him in.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he said, ignoring the disappointment in her eyes.

Her face was flushed a soft pink, either a remnant from their embrace, or embarrassment from being stumbled upon by her neighbor. It was a pretty face, one he wouldn’t mind waking up to. He didn’t think she could say the same about him. His early-morning face was probably safe for public viewing only on Halloween.

He brushed his fingertips along her cheek, tucked her hair behind her ear. “It was a nice evening. Thank you, Tessa. Now, please let me see you safely into your apartment.”

She trapped his hand against her face and smiled, warming him clear through to his bones.

“I wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy,” she said. “After all, this is our first date.” She raised her brows, as if daring him to deny another such momentous occasion would occur. “But I don’t like not knowing what you would have done if Norm hadn’t interrupted us.”

“There’s a saying, Tessa...”

“Yes?”

He took the keys she’d pulled from her skirt pocket, located one that seemed appropriate and opened her door, passing the key chain back to her as she glided by him. “Always leave ’em wanting more.”

Four

Chase regretted not kissing her good night.

He might have left her wanting more, but he’d denied himself. too, which distracted him all the next day. Even as a teenager, he’d had more control of his thoughts, his passion. He usually faced a dilemma head-on, but this one had blind sided him, and he couldn’t seem to angle it down a straighter path. He was wishing for something he couldn’t have, setting himself up for the biggest fall of his life.

Because Sunday was the only day of the week he allowed himself a long stretch of personal time, he took his distracted self to the local bookstore to wander, his favorite pastime. His gaze kept landing on books he’d hardly noticed before. He thumbed through a few, but didn’t want to buy any because the clerk knew him, and this subject was far afield from his usual reading list.

Just how juvenile was that? he wondered, rubbing his forehead. Thirty-two years old and he was worried about someone thinking he might be interested in the opposite sex? Not that he hadn’t been interested before, but his attention level had risen sharply, as if his knowing everything there was about women and how to please them was more critical than curing cancer.

Giving in to the urge that kept drawing him back to the Health and Psychology section, he chose a book and slid it behind his copy of Beyond Ethnicity and Gender. He headed toward the cashier, then ran right into Tessa coming from the children’s section, her stack of books teetering for a second before she grabbed them tighter, preventing them from tumbling.

They said each other’s name at the same time, then a long silence ensued. Finally she smiled, which not only meant that her mouth curved upward, but her whole face took on a radiant glow. Tessa Rose was deep-down, through-every-cell beautiful. The long, flowered dress she wore only added to her femininity, even as the modest neckline hid any hint of cleavage.

Although cradling the books in her arms, she pressed a palm to his chest, as though she couldn’t stop herself. He covered that soft, warm hand with his, sliding it to rest against his heart, keeping it there. And then, because he seemed to have lost all ability to control his actions, he leaned over her pile of books and kissed her—more than a greeting, less than a seduction. He heard a tiny whimper rise in her throat and felt it vibrate against his lips. People brushed by them, no one saying anything. The wonder of San Francisco, he thought.

He lifted his head and looked at her as she opened her eyes slowly.

“Well,” she said, her cheeks taking on a pink hue. “Good afternoon to you, too.”

“That was good night. This is good afternoon.” He wrapped his free arm around her, pulled her as snugly to him as the barrier of books allowed, and really kissed her, not caring who watched. What mattered most was the way her fingers clutched his shirt as her tongue met his, shyly, then with a boldness he wanted to explore but knew he couldn’t. Not here, anyway. Not now.

“Mmm.” Her heels lowered to the floor again as he moved back. She blinked once, then again. “Um. You make up for lost opportunities very nicely.”

“I’ve been kicking myself since I left you last night.” The words poured out as if someone had turned on a spill-your-guts faucet. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t seem to change it.

“Have you?” Her voice caught a little. “I’ve been kicking you, too. Metaphorically, that is.”

He ran his fingertips over her eyebrow, along her temple, down her cheek. His thumb brushed her lips, still moist from their kiss, parting them. “I hardly slept,” he said, letting his hand drift down her neck, then across her shoulder to skim along her arm, the downy hair rising in response.

“Me, neither.”

He got pulled in by those baby blue eyes that made him wish his life had been different, normal. Even seminormal. He glanced at her books, but his eyes focused on her nipples, which pressed against the summer-weight fabric molding her full, high breasts. Primitive images flooded his mind, urgent cravings he not only couldn’t control, but didn’t want to. He slid his books in front of him.

“This is going really fast, Tessa.”

“I’m as shocked as you are.” She looked in the direction of the coffee bar. “Would you like to get something to drink? Or maybe you have to get back to the Center?”

“I have time.” He realized they’d be at the cash register together paying for their books. Stalling, he looked at her stack again. “I see you’ve stocked up. What did you get?”

She tugged the books closer. Her cheeks turned a deeper pink. “Just some of my favorites.”

Bewildered at her apparent embarrassment, he angled his head to look at the titles, but she tipped the spines down.

“I’ll show you over coffee,” she said. “What did you get?”

“Grisham, and this one.” He let her see the top book.

“What else? You’ve got a third.”

He waited until she looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes.

“A psychology book.” He gestured toward the cashier. “After you.”

“Um. You go ahead,” she said. “I forgot something. I’ll meet you.” She hurried off.

Chase could see her reflection in the plate-glass window of the store. He decided to get rid of the copy he’d picked up of Unspoken Pleasures: What women wish every man knew, so that there was no chance she’d see it. He watched her glance furtively toward the front of the store, toward him. She angled down the Health and Psychology aisle, stopped for a second, then scurried along to the children’s section.

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