He wasn't supposed to ache over a kiss. His head wasn't supposed to swim when she locked herself around him. He wasn't supposed to tremble when she moaned out his name.

He knew what it was to want a woman. It was a natural, pleasurable part of being a man. It didn't rip at you or carve a hole in your gut. It didn't make your knees shake until you were afraid you'd fall down on them and beg.

He felt himself teeter on some high, thin edge. Self-preservation had him windmilling his arms and stumbling back before he could fall. Carefully, he put his hands on her shoulders and drew her away. His brow rested weakly against hers while he struggled to catch his breath.

Caroline let her unsteady hands stay at his hips. Gradually, through the mist of sensation, she forced her thoughts to surface and hold. It had simply been too long since she'd felt the comfort of an embrace, or tasted genuine desire on a man's lips. Those were reasons enough to excuse losing herself for a moment.

But she was back now. The blood was no longer pounding in her head. She could hear the whirl and click of insects, the croak of frogs. The sweet three-note call of a whippoorwill.

The light was shadowed, caught in that final magic moment between day and night. Already day was losing, ebbing away, and taking the passionate heat with it.

"I guess we both could've been wrong," Tucker said.

"About what?"

"You figuring you wouldn't care for it, and me thinking that once I'd kissed you, I'd sleep better." On a long breath, he lifted his head. "I gotta tell you, Caroline, wanting a woman's always been a pleasure for me. Since I was fifteen and Laureen O'Hara and I wrestled off each other's clothes in her daddy's barn. You're the first woman I've come across since that monumental day who's complicated that pleasure."

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that what he'd felt here was more difficult, more intimate, more dangerous than anything he'd felt before. And because she did believe him, she was frightened enough to shake him off.

"I think it would be best if we left it alone."

His gaze flicked down to her lips, swollen and soft from his. "In a pig's eyes," he said mildly.

"I mean it, Tucker." A trace of desperation crept into her voice. "I've just ended a destructive relationship and have no intention of starting another. And you… your life certainly has enough complications at the moment without adding another."

"Normally I might agree with that. You know, your hair looks just like a halo in this light. Maybe I want a shot at redemption. The angel and the sinner. Christ knows, there's just about that much difference between us."

"That's the most ridiculous-"

His hand shot out quickly, so quickly she swallowed the rest of her words as it fisted into her hair. This time when he spoke, the mild tone was lined with steel. "Something about you, Caroline. I don't know what the hell it is, but it eats at me at the oddest times. There's usually a good reason for a reaction like that. I figure it'll come out sometime."

"My time doesn't flow the way yours does, Tucker." She thought her voice was admirably calm, particularly when her heart was thudding in her throat. "In a few months I'll be in Europe. A quick affair to pass a hot summer isn't in my plans."

The ghost of a smile lit his mouth. "You do make plans. I've noticed that about you." He stepped forward and crushed her lips under his in a hard, brief kiss that rocked her back on her heels. "I'm going to have you, Caroline. Sooner or later we're going to have the hell out of each other. I'll try to leave the timing up to you."

"That's the most outrageously arrogant, despicably male statement I've ever heard."

"Depends on your point of view," he said affably. "I meant it as fair warning. But I don't want to get you so riled up it spoils your digestion." Clamping his hand over hers, he started back toward the house. Lightning bugs were glinting and dancing in the growing dark. "Why don't we sit on the porch awhile?"

"I have no intention of sitting anywhere with you."

"Now, honey, you talk like that, I'm going to think you find me irresistible."

Her quick hoot of laughter made him grin. "The day I can't resist some self-styled delta Don Juan-"

He gave a hoot of his own and scooped her off her feet to swing her in a circle. "I'm crazy about that sassy mouth of yours." He gave it an enthusiastic kiss. "I bet you went to one of those fancy finishing schools in Switzerland."

"I did not, and put me down." She squirmed for a minute. "I mean it, Tucker. Someone's coming."

He didn't put her down, but he did look across the lawn. A pair of headlights were coming fast. "I guess we'll just mosey on over and see who's calling."

He carried her to the drive as much to fluster her as for the pleasure of having that long, slim body cupped in his arms. And he figured once she got over being irritated by it, she'd see the romance.

"First star's out," he said conversationally, and she made a sound suspiciously like a growl.

"You know, you don't weigh much more than a sack full of flour. Feel a lot nicer though."

"The man's a poet," Caroline said between her teeth, and wished she didn't see the humor of it.

He couldn't resist. " 'Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky.' " He sent her a smile. "I guess Wordsworth said it better, huh?"

Before she could think of a proper response, he set her on her feet, gave her bottom a friendly pat, then waved at Bobby Lee, who was scrambling out of his rusting Cutlass.

"Hey, boy, shouldn't you be out sparking Marvella?"

"Tucker." Bobby Lee pushed a hand through his drooping pompadour. In the headlights he'd neglected to turn off, his face was pale with fear or excitement. "I rode on out as soon as I finished." He nodded belatedly to Caroline. "Evening, Miz Waverly."

"Hello, Bobby Lee. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to thank Delia again for dinner before I leave."

She hadn't even taken the first step when Tucker captured her hand. "It's early yet. What brings you out?" he asked Bobby Lee.

"Junior brought in your car this afternoon. Holy Jesus. It sure was a mess, Tucker."

Tucker grimaced and touched fingers gingerly to his bandaged head. "Yeah, it's a heartbreaker, all right. Barely had five thousand miles on her. Frame's bent, then?"

"Well, yeah. Bent to shit- excuse me, ma'am. We saw that soon as we had her up on the lift. We figured you'd have to have her hauled down to Jackson, but seeing as we haven't had a real good wreck come through since Bucky Larsson creamed his Buick out on sixty-one during that ice storm last January, we wanted a look-see."

Tucker settled his hip against the Cutlass. "That Buick looked like it'd been run over by a tank when you towed it in. Never could figure out how Bucky got off with only a broken collar bone and eighteen stitches."

"Gets a queer look in his eyes sometimes," Bobby Lee added. " 'Course he always did, now that I think on it."

Tucker nodded. "His mama was spooked by a nest of copperheads when she was carrying him. Might have addled him."

Caroline no longer felt the urge to leave. But she did have to resist the urge to cup her head in her hands and bray with laughter. "You came all this way to tell Tucker his car's wrecked?"

The two men looked over at her with identical expressions of puzzlement. To them it was obvious Bobby Lee was only setting the stage for whatever he'd come to say.

"No, ma'am," he said politely. "I come out to tell Tucker how his car come to be wrecked. Tucker here drives slick as spit. Everybody knows that."

"Thanks, Bobby Lee."

"Just telling it like it is. Well, the thing is, Junior mentioned as to how there wasn't no skid marks or nothing."

"Brakes were out."

"Yeah. He said. So I got to thinking, and when Junior's old lady kept calling, complaining how he'd promised to take her and the baby on down to Greenville for spaghetti, I told him I'd stay to watch the station. It's quiet on Sundays anyhow, so I figured I'd take a look at those brakes for you."