the physical attraction dies down..."

His hand moved to the highest curve of my hip. "And you think this"—a subtle stroke that sent my nerves jumping—"is going to die down?"

"Well," I said weakly, "it's supposed to."

"You let me know when we get to the reality stage." His voice was dark velvet. "I'll see what I can do to get your hormonal high going again." He finished the caress with a proprietary pat on my hip. "In the meantime...would you mind if I left you just for a few minutes?"

I turned to face him. "Of course not. Why?"

Gage looked apologetic. "I've got to say a quick hello to a friend of the family—I saw him in the other room. I went to high school with his son. who died not long ago in a boating accident."

"Oh, that's so sad. Yes, I'll stay here and wait for you."

"While you're at it, pick out something."

"What kind of something?"

"I don't care. A trip. A painting. Whatever looks good. Anyone who doesn't participate in the auction will get raked over the coals in the paper tomorrow for not giving a crap about the fine arts. It's up to you to save me."

"Gage. I'm not going to be responsible for spending all that money on...Gage, are you listening to me?"

"Nope." He smiled and began to walk away.

I looked down at the brochure nearest me. "We're going to Nigeria." I threatened. "I hope you like elephant polo."

He chuckled and left me amid the rows of auction items. I saw Heidi and Jack examining some items several tables away, until more people entered the room and blocked my view. I studied the tables carefully. I couldn't figure out what in the world Gage would want. A fancy limited-edition European motorcycle...no way was I going to let him risk losing a limb. A Nascar experience in which you got to drive a six-hundred-horsepower stock car on a super speedway. Ditto. Private chartered yacht trips. Jewels with names. A private lunch with a beautiful soap opera actress.. .As if, I thought sardonically.

After a few minutes of dedicated searching, with lively melodic arias in the background. I found something. A high-end massage chair with an intricate control panel promising at least fifteen different kinds of massage. I decided Gage could give it to Churchill for a Christmas present.

Picking up a pen, I began to write Gage's name on the bidding sheet, but the ink wouldn't come out. The pen was a dud. I shook it and tried again with no luck.

"Here," said a man beside me. setting a new pen on the table. He used the flat of his hand to roll it closer. "Try this one."

That hand.

I stared at it dumbly, while the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted.

A big hand, the nails sun-bleached, the long fingers scattered with tiny star-shaped scars. I knew whose hand it was, I knew it from a place that went deeper than memory. But I couldn't make myself believe it. Not here. Not now.

I looked up into a pair of blue eyes that had haunted me for years. Eyes I would remember to the last day of my life.

"Hardy," I whispered.

CHAPTER 22

I was paralyzed as I tried to take him in, this stranger I had loved so dearly. Hardy Gates had grown into all the promise of his younger years. He was a big, bold-looking man. Those eyes, blue upon blue, and the glossy brown hair, and the beginnings of a smile that sent a ripple of wonder through my soul...All I could do was stare at him, submerged in fearsome pleasure.

Hardy was still as he looked back at me. but I sensed the vibration of hard-running emotion beneath his exterior.

He took my hand gently, as if I were a small child. "Let's find a place to talk."

I clung to him. not caring that Jack might see us leave, not really aware of anything

except the clasp of those callused fingers. Hardy drew me away by the hand, away from the tables, to the waiting darkness of the outside grounds. We skirted the crowd, the noise, the lights, cutting around to the side of the house. It seemed the light tried to follow, stretching

weakening tendrils after us. but we headed into the shadows of an empty portico.

We stopped in the lee of a column as thick as an oak trunk. I was winded and trembling. I don't know who moved first, it seemed we reached for each other at the same time. I was seized full-length against him, mouth to mouth, bruising each other's lips with kisses too hard for pleasure. My heart thundered as if I were dying.

Moments of silent ravaging, and then Hardy tore his mouth away, whispering it was all right, he wasn't going to let go. I began to relax in his arms, feeling the heat of his mouth as he followed the tumble of wetness on my cheeks. He kissed me again, slow and easy, the way he had taught me so long ago, and I felt safe and young and suffused with a desire so straightforward it seemed almost wholesome. His kisses tapped into deep mines of memory, and the years that had separated us fell away as if they were nothing.

After a while Hardy cuddled me in the loose sides of his tux jacket, his chest hard beneath the intricately tucked shirt.

"I had forgotten how this feels." I said in an ache of a whisper.

"I never forgot." Hardy touched the shape of my waist and h*ps through the folds of the white silk gown. "Liberty. I shouldn't have come to you like this. I told myself to wait." A catch of laughter. "I don't even remember crossing the room. You were always beautiful to me, Liberty.. .but now.. .1 can't even believe you're real."

"How did you get to be here? Did you know you'd see me? Did you—"