Midnight Jewels

no. Just to be difficult." He brushed his mourn lightly over hers. "Christ. I had no idea just how difficult you were going to be when I saw that ad for
Valley
in the bookseller's catalog."
    There was no good-natured amusement in his words, Mercy realized. He was having trouble adjusting to something and it showed. "Would it have mattered?"
    He shook his head in a solid negative. "No. It wouldn't have mattered. What time do we leave in the morning?"
    Mercy froze for a few seconds. Croft said nothing. He stayed where he was, crushing her into the carpet and waited. Just waited.
    "Did you seduce me tonight in order to persuade me into taking you to Colorado?"
    "No. I would have seduced you tonight regardless of whether or not you were leaving for Colorado in the morning. I wanted you very badly. I can't remember when I've wanted anything as badly as I wanted you tonight."
    She looked up into his unyielding face and believed him. "I'm glad," she said gently. "Because I've never known anything like what happened tonight."
    "Oh, Mercy. I know that. You're so damn transparent. Just like a watercolor." He smiled faintly and kissed the tip of her nose. "I saw the shock in your eyes when I first made you look into the mirror and watch us, and I felt the shock in you when you went wild in my arms a few minutes ago."
    She flushed. "Proud of yourself, are you?"
    His teeth flashed in one of his rare, predatory grins. "It's your own fault for giving me so much delightfully positive feedback."
    "I'm not sure I like you being able to read me so well."
    "You'll get used to it." He rolled lightly to his feet and reached down to pull her up beside him.
    "Will I?" Mercy eyed him assessingly.
    "Mmm." He touched the corner of her mouth with a gentle finger. "I'm looking forward to spending a few days with you in Colorado."
    "You mean you're looking forward to trying to talk Gladstone out of his purchase."
    Croft shook his head. "No. I have no interest in trying to talk Gladstone out of
Valley
."
    "Do you really mean that? Word of honor?"
    "Word of honor. I swear I won't try to negotiate with Gladstone."
    She ached to believe him, and when she searched his intent gaze she was finally convinced she could. "All right," Mercy said, coming to a decision.
    Croft smiled again and reached down to scoop up their clothing. "I know it's all right," he said as he led her toward the bedroom.
    Later, Croft lay quietly beside a sleeping Mercy and tried to analyze the shadows in the room. He wasn't having much success. He had already been over the same questions several times in his own mind and the answers eluded him. He was feeling restless again and it bothered him.
    It was like looking at a watercolor. On the surface everything was crystal clear. He had achieved what he'd set out to do. Mercy had yielded to him physically, emotionally and intellectually. He would be going with her to meet the mysterious collector who had grabbed
Valley
as soon as it bit the catalogs.
    But Croft wasn't satisfied and he knew why. It had to do with the way she had provoked him into losing his self-control earlier. Until that moment everything had been going just the way he wanted it to go. Mercy had been melting in his arms, surrendering with a sweet, enticing sensuality that Croft had enjoyed. Hell, he'd more than enjoyed it. He'd gloried in it, reveled in it.
    He had been thoroughly aroused, obsessed with the idea of a gentle conquest that would tie her to him with what he hoped would be strong emotional bonds.
    He hadn't been taking advantage of her, Croft had told himself earlier that day when he had planned the seduction. It was all for her own good. Lying now in her bed he had the grace to wince at the thought of how Mercy would greet such a rationalization for the volatile lovemaking that had taken place on her living room floor. But it was the truth. He was doing all of it to protect her.
    But he admitted to himself that he needed her tied to him. He had deliberately set out to do exactly that. He wanted the emotional bonds in place just in case things got rough in Colorado. They could be crucially important. They might even save her life.
    Croft knew he couldn't talk Mercy out of the trip or the book. That had left him no choice but to accompany her to meet Gladstone. She needed someone to look after her just in case Gladstone turned out to be a man who should have died three years earlier. And Croft knew he needed the entré into Gladstone's home if he was to