Absolutely, Positively

cold?”

    “No. Hot. Very hot.”And getting hotter .

    “I'll get you something to drink in a minute.” She bent her head as she resumed the task of removing his shirt.

    Her tousled hair tickled his nose. It was the most delightful sensation Harry had ever experienced. He inhaled the flowery scent of her shampoo. He took a deeper breath and drew in the underlying fragrance of her body. It was the essence of femaleness, and it riveted everything that was male in him.

    She was seducing him as surely as if she had dressed in seven veils and thumped a tambourine, but she did not have a clue.

    Harry groaned. An object fell to the carpet with a soft thud. He realized dimly that he had dropped the gear that he had carried from the front room. There had been something important about that gear. Something he needed to know.

    But Molly had his shirt undone now, and he could no longer think about the gear. Her fingers were brushing against his bare chest.God, such sweet, warm, soft fingers . She was branding him with her touch.

    “Molly.” Her name was a plea, a prayer, and a curse. The last because he knew that his fate was sealed. He would surely lose her tonight.

    “It's all right,” she murmured gently. “You'll be fine. Did this fever come on quite suddenly?”

    “Yes.” And it was going to be the death of him.

    She pursed her lips in a considering expression. “It may be food poisoning.”

    There was only one cure now for the fire that would soon consume him. The glass edge shivered again beneath his feet. Disaster loomed.

    Molly's fingers went to his shoulders now to ease aside his shirt. Her touch warmed his bare skin to the flash point. His hands shook. The searing heat rose within him. He was harder than he had ever been in his life.

    His shirt fluttered to the carpet.

    Molly looked into his eyes. “You're so warm. I'd better get that glass of water.”

    Harry seized the chance to break the dangerous spell she had woven so unwittingly. “Yes.”

    “I'll get it. Sit down, Harry, before you fall down. No offense, but you look terrible.”

    “Yes.” She hated the way he looked. It was starting. Soon she would fear him. Despair seized Harry.

    He sank down on the edge of the bed and tried to pull himself together while Molly went into the adjoining bath. He lowered his head into his hands and strove to center himself.

    Get off the glass bridge. Rebuild the walls.

    Water ran in the sink.

    Faster, you fool. You'll lose her.

    But he could not retreat. It was too late.

    “Here you are,” Molly said softly. “Drink this, and then get straight into that bed.”

    Harry opened his eyes. He did not lift his head. The first thing he saw through his splayed fingers was the drawer in the bedside table. Early this morning, in an optimistic moment, he had taken the box of condoms from the bathroom and put it into the little drawer.

    Molly moved to stand in front of him, blocking his view of the drawer. She thrust a glass into his fingers.

    He very nearly dropped it.

    “Careful,” Molly said.

    He managed to down the water, but it did nothing to assuage the fire. He wished it had been whiskey or brandy. Alcohol might have taken the edge off the erection that threatened to rip a hole in his pants.

    “Thanks.” He realized his voice sounded as if his tongue had been dragged across sandpaper.

    “Maybe I should call the emergency room to get some advice.”

    “No. No, please. Don't call anyone.”

    “Okay.” She knelt in front of him to untie his shoes.

    Harry stared at the folds of the white robe as it eddied around her. It made him think of a bridal gown. Molly looked both sensuous and chaste. The combination was electrifying.

    “I know you're the independent type.” Molly tugged off one shoe. “But you may as well accept the fact that you need help tonight. You're sick, Harry.”

    “So they tell me.”

    It struck him that the reason she had not taken to her heels yet was because she still attributed his odd behavior to a bad case of food poisoning.

    The sight of Molly kneeling in front of him was the most erotic vision Harry had ever had. He imagined her unzipping his pants, lifting him free with her hands, dampening his hot skin with her tongue.

    “Take it easy, Harry.” Molly slipped off the other shoe. “We've almost got you into bed.”

    “Yes.” It would be his coffin by dawn. He could not survive what was bound to happen.

    “You'll feel better in the