“Can I pour you a glass of wine?” It was another attempt to put her at ease. She appreciated the effort, but she wasn’t sure even wine would work. Entering his room with a sack full of rubbers made her feel as if she’d just jumped out of an airplane-without a parachute.

Only she did have a parachute, she told herself. The fact that Sebastian was leaving town as soon as he’d solved the mystery of Malcolm Turner’s faked death was her parachute. This wasn’t a relationship. This didn’t require the deep consideration a relationship would. Her future didn’t figure into it, and neither did Kate’s. Which meant she could relax. It was just for tonight.

“No, thank you.”

He’d already picked up the bottle. “It might help,” he said, lifting it higher.

“I’d rather not miss anything. The next hour might have to last me for a few years,” she teased, but he didn’t laugh at her words. Apparently, he knew it wasn’t a joke.

He put down the bottle. “How about some music?” he said and turned the television to a music station. “Classical okay?”

She’d never made love to classical music, never listened to it at all, but the emotion surging through the piece appealed to her. She could relate to it. And she liked that it was different, that the music evoked no associations, no memories. “That’s…good.”

Draping an arm over the corner of the TV, he leaned against the dresser. “Is there anything I should know?”

She glanced nervously at the bed. Maybe now they were getting down to business. “Are you asking about STDs? Because I’m clean.”

This evoked a smile. “I can’t say I’m not happy to hear it. For the record, you don’t have to worry about me in that area, either. But I was referring to phobias. Are you afraid of the dark? Afraid of feeling cornered? Afraid of being overpowered?”

Images from the last time she’d made love with Oliver flashed through Jane’s mind, but she threw up as much of a mental barricade as she could. “I want the lights off.”

He reached around her for the switch and plunged the room into darkness. “Anything else?”

“Don’t restrict my movement.”

“In what way?”

“Don’t tie me up-or hold me down.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’d rather be with someone who can respond.” He stepped closer. She could sense the warmth of his body-but he didn’t touch her. “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Why don’t you take control? Why don’t you make love to me?”

Thinking she’d be in charge made her feel safer. But it’d been so long. And she didn’t know Sebastian very well. How did she initiate such intimacy? Did she simply…stand up on tiptoe and start kissing him?

“It’s not difficult,” he whispered as if she’d asked the question aloud. Bending his head, he met her mouth, but he didn’t put his arms around her until she slipped her arms around him. And she was the first one to part her lips.

Sebastian would’ve preferred the lights on. Jane was far prettier than she realized; he wanted to see the athletic female body beneath that sweat suit. But he wasn’t calling the shots. He had to remind himself of that over and over as habit and natural desire prompted him to take control. With every flick of her tongue against his neck, his nipple, his stomach, his desire increased.

And then she moved lower…

His muscles bunched as he struggled to keep himself in check. He longed to roll her onto her back, to use his mouth and hands until she was moaning and bucking against him, begging for the fulfillment he already craved. But he was afraid he’d frighten her. He’d known from the beginning that making love to Jane would be different, would require more restraint.

He’d expected to have no problem exercising that restraint, but it wasn’t easy. It’d stopped being easy thirty minutes ago, when she’d taken off her clothes and her flesh had touched his. She’d been so tentative it was as if she was making love for the first time. There was a powerful eroticism in her rediscovery. Going so slowly wound him that much tighter.

“Jane.” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable even to him.

“What?” she breathed.

“I can’t take any more.”

She hesitated. “You want me to stop?”

“Will it freak you out if I get on top? I’ll bear my own weight. It’s just until we get settled. Then we’ll switch.”

“Okay.”

Thank God. Shifting her onto her back, he held himself above her so she wouldn’t feel trapped and lowered his body until he could rub his chest against hers. There was so much he wanted to do to her and with her, but she didn’t know how to guide him to what she most enjoyed. Every time he thought he found something that pleased her, she stopped him. He couldn’t insist for fear it would send her into a panic-she’d nearly bolted when she’d first arrived-but she seemed to be thwarting her own enjoyment. Why?

He guessed the man she’d married had used her terribly. It made him angry, but he couldn’t undo all the damage in one night. And because she felt more comfortable touching him than letting him touch her, he was so far gone he’d blow it completely if he didn’t salvage what he could.

“That’s it.” Just easing into her almost pushed him over the edge.

When her legs went around his waist, drawing him deeper, he wanted to thrust. But he’d promised her she could call the shots, so he rolled over and let her straddle him instead. “You okay?” he whispered.

“I’m okay,” she said and began to rock against him.

Sebastian hung on for as long as he could, but it wasn’t long enough. When it was over, he was pretty sure she hadn’t experienced the same completion.

She lay beside him until she recovered her breath, then started to slide away. “That was nice,” she said. “Thanks.”

“You’re leaving?” he asked in surprise. “It’s barely eleven-thirty.”

“I’ve got work in the morning.”

He didn’t want her to go, not like this. She was being polite about it, but he knew she had to be disappointed. “Stay. Next time will be better. I was afraid of scaring you. I was trying to be too gentle. Now that you know you don’t have to worry about me, I can have more confidence in-”

“It’s not you, it’s me,” she interrupted.

“Jane-”

“Good night.” She gathered her things in the dark and he heard the door click as she went out.

Eleven

Tears streamed down Jane’s face as she sat in the parking lot of the motel. She started the car so she could turn on the heat, but she didn’t leave. She couldn’t stop shaking and wasn’t sure she could drive.

What the hell was wrong with her? How could she have thought sex with a total stranger would help anything?

She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “Because I’m an idiot. I can never get anything right that has to do with men.”

Sebastian had been the perfect gentleman. She had no complaints. But their session hadn’t carried her away as she’d hoped. Not even for a moment. She hadn’t been able to let go, to enjoy their lovemaking the way she’d imagined. Oliver had made that impossible. Just when she thought she’d be able to escape the past, he seemed to reach out from the grave…

“You bastard,” she said. “You cruel, selfish bastard.”

If only she’d never met Oliver. If only she’d been able to have Kate with someone else. But-her fingers sought the tattoo on her breast-Oliver wasn’t all that was holding her back.

A knock on the window startled her. She grabbed her throat as if fending off Oliver’s knife before she realized there was no threat.

“It’s just me.” Sebastian stepped back and held up something. “You left your wallet.”

She looked more closely at the object he’d brought. It definitely was her wallet. How had she lost it?

Then she remembered. They’d made a mess of the bedding and knocked her purse to the floor. It must’ve fallen out.