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  After a prolonged moment of silence, the woman in his arms finally spoke. “Go on,” she said softly.

  He tipped his chin down, trying to see her shadowy features, his brows drawing together in a puzzled frown. “Go on?” he repeated.

  She nodded, her soft face brushing against his skin. “Yes. You were just getting to the good part.”

  “The good part?” he repeated blankly.

  She looked up at him and, although her eyes were still damp with tears, there was a winsome smile on her face that made Zack’s heart slam against his ribs. “You got off to a very bad start,” she whispered, “by saying you were sorry we did this. And you made it much worse by saying that I’m naive and then making it sound as if any woman would have suited you just fine after five years’ abstinence—”

  He gazed at her while relief began to pour through his body like a balm. He knew that he was getting off much too easily, but he seized his unexpected reprieve with the grateful desperation of a drowning man grabbing at a life preserver. “Did I say that?”

  “Pretty much.”

  He grinned helplessly at her infectious smile. “How ungallant of me.”

  “Very,” she agreed with sham indignation.

  A minute ago, she’d had him in the grip of black despair, five minutes ago she’d sent him into sexual paradise, now she made him feel like laughing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zack was aware that no woman had ever had this effect on him before, but he didn’t want to examine the explanation for it. For now, he was content to bask in the present and ignore what little future he had left. “Under the circumstances,” he whispered, smiling as he brushed his knuckles over her cheek, “what should I have done and said?”

  “Well, as you know, I haven’t much experience in moments like these—”

  “No experience whatsoever, in fact,” he reminded her, suddenly and crazily pleased by that.

  “But I have read hundreds of love scenes in novels.”

  “This isn’t a novel.”

  “True, but there are distinct similarities.”

  “Name one,” he teased, distracted by the sheer joy of her.

  To his astonishment, she sobered, but there was a look of wonder in her eyes as they gazed deeply into his. “For one thing,” she whispered, “the woman often feels the way I felt when you were inside of me.”

  “And how did you feel?” he asked because he couldn’t stop himself.

  “I felt wanted,” she said with a tiny break in her voice. “And needed. Desperately needed. And very, very special. I felt—complete.”

  Zack’s heart constricted with an emotion so intense that it made him ache. “Then why were you crying?”

  “Because,” she whispered, “sometimes beauty does that to me.”

  Zack gazed into her glowing eyes, and he saw the kind of gentle beauty and unquenchable spirit that could almost make a man feel like crying. “Has anyone ever told you,” he whispered, “that you have the smile of Michelangelo’s Madonna?”

  Julie opened her mouth to protest, but he forestalled her answer by giving her a hard, swift kiss. “Don’t you think,” she belatedly and breathlessly replied as he rolled her onto her back, “that remark is a little sacrilegious, when you consider what we just did a few minutes ago?”

  He muffled a laugh against her throat. “No, but it probably is when you consider what we’re about to do now.”

  She tipped her head down. “What’s that?”

  His shoulders began to shake with helpless mirth at the sheer joy of her, even while his mouth began its slow descent. “I’ll show you.”

  Julie caught her breath and arched her hips beneath the sensual onslaught of his seeking hands and mouth.

  The laughter faded from Zack’s mind, replaced by something much deeper.

  32

  PROPPED UP AGAINST A MOUND of feather pillows in the master bedroom’s huge bed, Julie gazed at the dishes on the low table in front of the fireplace across the room. They’d eaten a late breakfast there, and then Zack had taken her back to bed and made love to her. He’d kept her awake most of the night, making love to her with a mixture of demanding urgency and exquisite tenderness that Julie found wildly exciting and tormentingly sweet. Each time he finished, he pulled her into his arms and held her close while they dozed. Now it was past noon, and she was sitting beside him, curved against his body, his arm around her shoulders, his hand lazily caressing her arm. Unfortunately, in daylight, she was finding it far more difficult to cling to the illusion that this was a little cottage where she was safe and warm in bed beside a wonderfully ordinary man who also happened to be her devoted lover. In broad daylight, she was unhappily aware that the man who made love to her with such violent tenderness and need, who groaned with passion in her arms and made her cry out and feel as if she were the only woman who’d ever done this with him, had also made love to countless movie stars and sexy socialites. That had been his world—a luxurious, frenetic world populated by rich, beautiful, talented people with the right connections.

  That had been his old life, and even though he’d lost everything, she had no doubt that he would prove his innocence, now that he was free to search out the real killer—with her inexpert but willing help, if possible. Once he did that, he’d be free to return to his former life, to resume his brilliant career in Hollywood. His need of her would cease to exist then. And when that happened, when she was reduced to the status of an “old friend” of his, she knew the pain was going to be terrible.

  He wasn’t going to fall in love with her and make undying declarations of love. He simply needed her now, and for some reason God had meant for her to be here for him. All she could do was live each moment as it came, savor it, and memorize it for the years ahead. That meant never asking him for more than he could give, never burdening him with her feelings, and keeping as much of her heart intact as she possibly could. That meant finding a way to keep things as light and frivolous as possible. She wished she were sophisticated and experienced with men; that would have been a tremendous help to her now in accomplishing those things and a lot of others.

  “What are you thinking about?” Zack asked.

  She turned her head and found him studying her with a concerned frown. “Nothing too profound,” she hedged with a bright, artificial smile. “Life in general.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Trying to avoid both his searching gaze and the entire discussion, Julie moved out from under his arm and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “It really wasn’t worth discussing.”

  “Why don’t you let me decide that.”

  She shot him a dark look. “Have you always been so persistent?”

  “It’s one of my most unattractive qualities,” he replied smoothly and impenitently. “What were you thinking about —specifically?”

  She rolled her eyes at him in laughing exasperation, but when he continued to regard her in waiting silence, she gave in and told him a part of the truth. Perching her chin on her knees to avoid his gaze, she said, “I was thinking how strange life is. Everything can seem completely predictable, and then in one short minute—in the time it takes to decide to pull off the interstate for some coffee—everything can change.”

  Zack leaned his head back against the pillows, closed his eyes, and swallowed with relief. He’d thought she was reflecting on the more logical and accurate fact that he was ruining her life.

  From the corner of her eye, Julie stole a quick look at his tense face and her heart sank. Laughter and lightness and sensuality were what he wanted and needed, not philosophy or anything with emotional intensity, and she resolved not to let him corner her into a discussion like this again.

  He gave a deep sigh and without opening his eyes, he asked in a flat voice, “Do you want to stay here with me, Julie?”

  “Are you giving me a choice?” she teased, adhering to her decision to keep things light As soon as she said it, she saw the imperceptible tightening of his jaw, a