From the Heart

hesitated for a moment with his hand still on the knob. Very carefully, he shut the door at his back.
    “Liv?”
    She whirled, and he saw her expression range from surprise to pleasure to controlled anxiety. More than he had ever wanted anything, Thorpe wanted to take her into his arms and pretend the night had never happened.
    “Thorpe.” At the sight of him, all her planned speeches flew out of her head. She stood rooted to the spot. “I hope you don’t mind that I just came in.”
    He lifted a brow and she saw it—the light mockery, the easy amusement. “Of course not. Want some coffee?”
    He was so casual as he strolled over to the pot, she beganto wonder if she had imagined that less than twenty-four hours before he had told her he loved her. “No, I . . . I came by to see if you’d come to dinner,” she said impulsively. She could sense refusal and hurried on while his back was still to her. “Of course, I can’t promise a meal like you could fix, but I won’t poison you.”
    Thorpe abandoned the making of coffee, and turned to face her. “Liv, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said quietly.
    “Thorpe . . .” She turned away for a moment to gather strength. What she wanted to do was weep, and to use his shoulder to weep on. That wouldn’t help either of them. She turned to face him again. “There are so many things you don’t know, don’t understand. But I want you to know, and to understand that I care. I care very much. Maybe more than I’m able to deal with.” He could hear the nerves rushing through her voice as she took a step toward him. “I know it’s a tremendous thing to ask, but if you could just give me some time.”
    It was costing her, he noted, to ask. Knowing her, he understood it had cost her to come to him this way. Hadn’t he told himself to be patient? “I have some things to clear up here first,” he said. “Would it be all right if I came by in an hour or so?”
    He heard her small expulsion of breath. “Good.”
     
    An hour later, Liv was wound up tight. She tried to bank her nerves and concentrate on getting together a meal, but her eyes were forever fixing themselves on the clock.
    Maybe I should change, she thought, and glanced down at her no-nonsense suit of charcoal gray. Even as she headed from the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Liv jolted. Oh, stop being ridiculous, she chided herself, but when she answered the door, her heart was thumping.
    “Hi.” She gave him a bright smile that was a little strained around the edges. “Your timing’s good; I’ll put the steaks on in a minute.” She shut the door behind her and was already wondering what to do with her hands. “Steak’s about the safest; I can’t do too much to ruin it. Would you like a drink?”
    I’m rambling, she thought. Good God. And he was lookingat her again in that calm, steady way. She went to the bar without waiting for his answer. She could use one, even if he couldn’t.
    “Do you want scotch?” she asked, pouring first from the vermouth decanter for herself. She felt his hands on her shoulders.
    She didn’t resist when he turned her, didn’t lower her eyes when his looked into hers. Without speaking, he simply gathered her close and held her. With a shuddering sigh, she clung to him and felt the tension flow from her.
    “Oh, Thorpe, I nearly went crazy without you. I need you.” That in itself was an awesome admission. They both held on to it. Liv lifted her face to his. “Don’t go,” she murmured. “Don’t go tonight.”
    She pressed her mouth to his. The world focused for her again. “Make love to me,” she whispered. “Now, Thorpe. Right now.”
    His mouth still on hers, he lowered her to the couch. He touched her gently, feeling the shape of her through her clothes. Her body was pliant, willing to be explored. Her breath trembled on his tongue. With unbearable softness, he kissed her again and again until Liv felt the total capitulation of mind, body, spirit. She felt no aching drive, no desperation, only a warm, liquifying surrender.
    He undressed her slowly, layer by layer, piece by piece, letting his fingertips linger on the point of her breast, on the curve of her hip. Liv sighed and relinquished everything. He was in command, to take her wherever he wished.
    His touch was light, almost reverent as he stroked her. Even when he wandered to the heated skin of her inner thighs, he moved without hurry. She began to shudder, to arch under him, but