From This Day Forward by Deborah Cox

companionship. Women were so emotional, so weak. They seemed to require constant care and attention, something he couldn't provide. But they were also beautiful to look at and wonderful to touch. He'd convinced himself that if he got one young enough and innocent enough, he could cultivate her to his liking as he had the jungle. He could bring her under his control and make her what he wanted her to be, make her fit into the world he'd created for himself.
    Caroline would not be molded or controlled. She had opinions and ideas and experiences. She was determined to make her own place, not to fit into the one he'd devised for her.
    Experience had made her independent and given her insights that a more innocent woman would not have possessed, insights that made him wonder if she didn't see straight through his every defense, an idea he found immensely disturbing.
    He had half a mind to jump on a boat himself and go all the way to New Orleans, just to wring Derek's neck personally.
    Still, she was a lovely woman, a woman who stirred his deepest longings. He couldn't have her, couldn't touch her. The cost would be too dear. She would demand his heart, body and soul in return, and he couldn't give them. He couldn't be the man she wanted—a companion. Companionship meant sharing on a level that scared the hell out of him.
    The donkey brayed as if mocking him. Waving his arms, Jason charged the fountain. "Go away, you bastard!" he shouted.
    The beast glanced up at him with round, serene eyes. Obviously deciding he posed no real threat, it continued to drink unperturbed until Jason swatted its rump with his open hand. "Get out of here!"
    "What the hell am I going to do with a donkey?" he muttered as he stepped through the open French doors into the parlor.
    Sucking in his breath, he gazed around in amazement. Flowers covered every surface in the room—lavender orchids, pink bromeliads, and white lilies.
    Ines stood across the room, her back to him as she arranged a vase of orchids. "What the hell's going on?" he asked.
    Ines turned to face him, but it wasn't Ines at all. His eyes widened as they traveled from the bright bandanna on Caroline's head to the cotton sarong wrapped around her shapely body to her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of the sarong.
    "Do you like it?" she asked, pirouetting.
    Jason scowled, using anger as a shield against the raw desire that had been his constant companion since he'd seen her standing on the pier that first day. "You look like a serving woman," he growled, but the truth was she looked like anything but.
    The cotton fabric molded to her body in a way that made his heart leap into his throat. How did she manage to appear innocent and daring at the same time? Her eyes shone with mischief, a girlish smile curving her soft, full lips. He wanted to kiss her, more than anything else in the world at that moment. He wanted to take her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her lips.
    But right now, he knew that kissing her would not be enough. He closed his eyes, shaken to his core.
    " You're the one who said my clothes aren't suitable for the jungle," she reminded him.
    Good girl, he thought as the tension in his body eased slightly. Always ready with a good argument. He imagined he would miss the arguments. It was hard to remember what his life had been like before she'd come, and he found he didn't want to dwell on it.
    "It's certainly more comfortable than anything I brought with me," she went on, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. "Women in New Orleans should dress like this."
    She stepped toward him, her bare feet patting the floor.
    "If women in New Orleans dressed like that, they wouldn't be safe to walk the streets. Where are your shoes?"
    She blushed and he wished with all his being she had not. The knot returned to his gut, sharper than before. She was all vulnerability, all sweet femininity, though he knew well enough that she could turn into a screaming virago without