Temptation by Nora Roberts Page B

the steps to the door. On the other side lay a mountain of apricot fur known as Squat. Even after Chase opened the door, the mound continued to snore.
    â€œAre you sure you should have such a vicious watchdog unchained?”
    â€œMy theory is most burglars wouldn’t have the nerve to step over him.” Catching Eden around the waist, Chase lifted her up and over.
    The stone insulated well against the heat, so the hall was cool and comfortable. High, beamed ceilings gave the illusion of unlimited space. A Monet landscape caught her eye, but before she could comment on it, Chase was leading her through a set of mahogany doors.
    The room was cozily square, with window seats recessed into the east and west walls. Instantly Eden could imagine the charm of watching the sun rise or set. Comfort was the theme of the room, with its range of blues from the palest aqua to the deepest indigo. Handhooked rugs set off the American antiques. There were fresh flowers here, too, spilling out of a Revere Ware bowl. It was a touch she hadn’t expected from a bachelor, particularly one who worked with his hands.
    Thoughtful, she crossed the room to the west window. The slanting sun cast long shadows over the buildings he had taken them through that morning. She remembered the conveyor belts, the busy sorters and packers, the noise. Behind her was a small, elegant room with pewter bowls and wild roses.
    Peace and challenge, she realized, and she sighed without knowing why. “I imagine it’s lovely when the sun starts to drop.”
    â€œIt’s my favorite view.” His voice came from directly behind her, but for once she didn’t stiffen when he rested his hands on her shoulders. He tried to tell himself it was just coincidence that she had chosen to look out that window, but he could almost believe that his own need for her to see and understand had guided her there. It wouldn’t be wise to forget who she was and how she chose to live. “There’s no Symphony Hall or Rodin Museum.”
    His fingers gently massaged the curve of her shoulders. But his voice wasn’t as patient. Curious, she turned. His hands shifted to let her slide through, then settled on her shoulders again. “I don’t imagine they’re missed. If they were, you could visit, then come back to this.” Without thinking, she lifted her hand to brush the hair from his forehead. Even as she caught herself, his hand closed around her wrist. “Chase, I—”
    â€œToo late,” he murmured; then he kissed each of her fingers, one by one. “Too late for you. Too late for me.”
    She couldn’t allow herself to believe that. She couldn’t accept the softening and opening of her emotions. How badly she wanted to let him in, to trust again, to need again. How terrifying it was to be vulnerable. “Please don’t do this. It’s a mistake for both of us.”
    â€œYou’re probably right.” He was almost sure of it himself. But he brushed his lips over the pulse that hammered in her wrist. He didn’t give a damn. “Everyone’s entitled to one enormous mistake.”
    â€œDon’t kiss me now.” She lifted a hand but only curled her fingers into his shirt. “I can’t think.”
    â€œOne has nothing to do with the other.”
    When his mouth touched hers, it was soft, seeking.
Too late
. The words echoed in her head even as she lifted her hands to his face and let herself go. This is what she had wanted, no matter how many arguments she had posed, no matter how many defenses she had built. She wanted to be held against him, to sink into a dream that had no end.
    He felt her fingers stream through his hair and had to force himself not to rush her. Desire, tensed and hungry, had to be held back until it was tempered with acceptance and trust. In his heart he had already acknowledged that she was more than the challenge he had first considered her. She