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  “What are we going to do today?”

  He lifted his black eyebrow. His pale eyes looked as hard and brilliant as diamonds, and there was fire in their depths. “I don’t plan on leaving the suite this entire weekend,” he said evenly. “Unless we run out of condoms.”

  Slowly she stood up. “Maybe room service will deliver,” she said in a voice that was suddenly tight with need, and then she was in his arms.

  Chapter 8

  She drowned in sensuality that weekend. The two rooms of that impersonal hotel suite became very personal, imbued with the aura and memories of their lovemaking. They didn’t leave the suite at all, relying on room service for their food, and never dressing in anything except the bathrobes.

  As a lover, he more than matched the strength of her passion. Caroline never did anything in halfway measures; she had been fiercely virgin, and now she was just as fierce in the giving of herself. He had never before given free rein to his appetites, but with Caroline he could. He sated himself with her, and yet never felt as if he had had enough. The hunger would roar back, again and again.

  He had no inhibitions. He was earthy and powerful, sweeping her along with him, introducing her to more variations, techniques and positions than she could have imagined. Sometimes he was on top and sometimes she was; sometimes he was behind her. Sometimes he used his mouth, and he taught her how to use hers to pleasure him. He made love to her in the bathtub, on the couch, on the floor, wherever they happened to be.

  He had a beeper on his belt, but the beeper remained silent and the outside world didn’t intrude on them. She had never before been so completely, overwhelmingly involved with another human being, to the exclusion of everything else. She didn’t think about work, didn’t fret for a book to read. She simply experienced.

  By Sunday morning the initial frenzied hunger had been fed and their lovemaking had become more lei-surely, bringing with it the patience to linger over both arousal and satisfaction. An hour of sensual play had satisfied them for the moment, and Joe ordered a late breakfast; then they lounged in the parlor with their feet up while they watched television and caught up on the news. Caroline curled against his side, heavy-eyed with contentment.

  He lifted a pale strand of her hair and let it drift down, the sunlight catching the gold and making it glitter. “Where are your parents?” he asked absently, paying more attention to the play of light than to his own question.

  “Usually, or at this exact moment?” Her voice was just as lazy as his.

  “Both.”

  “Usually they’re in North Carolina, where they teach. Right this moment, they’re in Greece on a summer-long cultural tour. They’re supposed to come home the middle of September.”

  “Were you lonely when you were little?”

  “Not that I noticed. I wanted to learn,” she explained. “I couldn’t learn fast enough to keep myself satisfied. I wasn’t a comfortable child to be around, I don’t think. If I hadn’t had them for parents I probably would have been a complete wreck, but they helped me handle the frustration and didn’t try to limit what I learned.”

  “You were probably a holy terror,” he said dryly.

  “Probably.” She felt comfortable with it. “What about you?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, and a tiny quiver of unease intruded on her massive contentment. He would talk easily about his experiences as a pilot, about work, but he kept his private life very private. He had relaxed his guard a little in telling her that he was a half-breed, and that he had three brothers and one sister, but very little else. He hadn’t related any childhood experiences to let the conversation get very close to him. Of course, she reminded herself, she hadn’t known him for long at all, actually less than a week. The speed and intensity of their relationship dazed her, made the flow of time seem exaggeratedly long.

  “No, I wasn’t a holy terror,” he finally said. She sensed the remoteness in his answer.

  “Are any of your brothers or your sister?”

  Because she was so close to him, she could feel the subtle relaxation of his muscles. “Just my sister, and it isn’t that she’s destructive or bad tempered, just very determined to have her own way. She’s a little steam-roller.”

  His deep love for his family was evident in his voice. She snuggled closer to him, hoping to keep him talking. “How old are your brothers and sister? What are their names?”

  “Michael is eighteen. He’s just gotten out of high school and starts college next month. He’s interested in cattle ranching and will probably start his own spread when he gets out of college. Joshua is sixteen, and he’s the best-natured of the bunch, but he’s a jet freak, just like I was at his age. Damn his hide, though, he wants to be a Navy flier. Zane is thirteen, and he’s…intense. Silent and dangerous, like Dad. Then there’s Maris. She’s eleven going on a hundred. Small for her age, so delicate she looks like a breeze would send her airborne, and a will like iron. We’re all good with horses, damn good, but Dad is sheer magic with them, and so is Maris.”

  “What about your stepmother?” Anything to keep him talking.

  He gave a quiet laugh. “Mary. She’s even smaller than you are.”

  She sat up. “I’m not small.” Her chin jutted out belligerently.

  “You’re not exactly tall, either. Not quite average, I’d say. I’m almost a foot taller than you.” He pulled her back down against his side, her head nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. “Do you want to know about Mary or not?”

  “Go ahead,” she grumbled, and he kissed her forehead.

  “Mary is warm and open and loving, and when she makes up her mind to do something she’s unstoppable. She’s a teacher. I wouldn’t have made it into the Academy without her tutoring.”

  “So you didn’t mind when she and your father married?”

  “Mind?” He gave that quiet laugh again. “I did everything I could to throw them together. Not that it was all that difficult. Dad was like a corralled stallion. He was determined to have her, no matter how many fences he had to kick down or go over.”

  His ease and earthy understanding of his father’s sexual nature made her smile. For her part, she simply couldn’t imagine her own parents as intensely sexual beings, probably because they weren’t. She was proof that they did have sex, but both of them were low-key and concerned more with intellectual matters than those of a physical nature. Their love life was probably warm and affectionate, rather than the raw, raunchy, intense lovemaking Joe had swept her into.

  “What about your dad? What’s he like?”

  “Tough. Dangerous. And the best father in the world. Even when I was a little kid, I always knew he’d fight to the death for me.”

  That was an odd way to describe one’s parent, but looking at Joe she could easily believe that his father was dangerous. They were probably mirror images of each other.

  “That’s enough about me,” he said abruptly, though very little of the conversation had actually told her about him. She sensed that wariness in him again as the steel door guarding his inner thoughts clanged shut. He lifted her astride his lap and pushed her robe open, closing his hands over her breasts. “I want to find out about you.”

  She shivered and looked down at her breasts, at his bronze hands covering the soft, pale mounds. “That’s no longer virgin territory to you.”

  “So it isn’t.” The blue of his eyes grew darker, more intense. He stroked one of his hands down her belly and into the notch of her legs, lightly probing. “This isn’t, either, but it’s even more exciting now than it was before. I could only imagine what you’d feel like before, but now I know how tight and hot you are, and how you start getting wet as soon as I touch you.” He circled her delicate opening with one rough fingertip, using exquisite care. She shuddered as pleasure rushed through her, hot and sharp, tightening her muscles and giving him the dampness he sought as her body immediately began preparing to receive him. He pushed his finger a little way into her, and her body quicken