Midnight Jewels

me."
    "You think yours is any better? You're naive and reckless and unpredictable. You deliberately try to goad me into losing my temper or my self-control. Yes, you do," he said forcefully when she opened her mouth to deny the accusa-tion. "Last night was a classic example. I didn't come into your bedroom intending to play bondage games."
    "No, you thought you'd just sashay in and give me a little thrill with a quick, off-the-cuff example of your seduction skills. In the process you'd make sure you still had me under control. I know how you try to use sex against me. I'm not
that
naive. You think that if you've got me tied to you with sexual bonds I won't question your orders or demands. You don't like me thinking for myself, do you? It worries you that I might be viewing this Gladstone situation with an open mind. That's dangerous for you because it means I might decide the man is totally innocent. Which, for your information, I have just about decided, in spite of your bedroom karate."
    His mouth tilted in a wry grimace. "So much for my skills at sexual bondage."
    "I thought you'd better know it's not working."
    "I appreciate the warning."
    "Anytime." She realized she was the one feeling goaded and provoked now.
    There was a long silence and then Croft spoke quietly. "About last night."
    "If you're going to apologize, make it good. I'm not in the mood for any halfhearted attempts at rationalization."
    "You want me down on my knees?"
    "Sounds perfect."
    "I seem to recall being on my knees in front of you last night at one point," he began thoughtfully. "Doesn't that count?"
    "Why you son of a—Last night I told you I would strangle you. Today I will." Mercy flew off the rock with the speed of an exploding grenade. She launched herself at Croft, heedless of the danger.
    He caught her easily, cushioning her against his solid frame so that she didn't injure herself on the rocks. Croft absorbed the momentum of her flying charge and then, holding Mercy tightly, he rolled gently off the boulder and onto the grass. He used one arm to manage the small impact for both himself and his wriggling burden.
    Mercy felt the rock-hard security of Croft's grasp, closed her eyes as the sky spun overhead, and then found herself flat on the ground. Croft was sprawled on top of her. When she lifted her lashes she found herself looking up into laugh- , ing hazel eyes.
    It was the golden laughter that defused her short-lived flash of anger. It captivated her and charmed her as nothing else could have done. Mercy realized she loved to see Croft laugh.
    "You think you're the slickest thing I've come across since sliced bread, don't you?" she asked, unable to resist running her fingers through his hair.
    He grinned. "If we had world enough and time I'd make love to you out here in the sunshine. You look good on a carpet of flowers."
    "Aren't you afraid I might have squashed one or two?"
    "It's worth it to see your hair spread out on the grass."
    "I take it we don't have world enough and time?"
    "Disappointed?"
    "Even if I were I'd never admit it," she said. "You're already far too sure of yourself. Besides, I know why you want to head back to the house as soon as possible. You're on a mission and nothing must get in the way. First things first, business before pleasure, keep the Circle closed, etcetera, etcetera."
    He brushed his mouth across hers. "Why do you have to fight me every inch of the way, honey? Why can't you just accept the way I am and the way things are between us?"
    "Mostly because I haven't been able to figure out how things actually are between us." Mercy pushed against his shoulders and Croft sat up slowly. She glanced back to see how many dainty daisies or delicate blue columbine she might have crushed. But Croft, with typical proficiency, had made certain she missed the flowers.
    "I've told you from the beginning you're safe with me," Croft said. He reached out toward the petals of a starry little columbine growing between, some rocks. His touch was so delicate me purplish-blue petal barely quivered. "And I think you've trusted me from the beginning. So why do you keep arguing with me and provoking me?"
    "It isn't a question of trust. Well, maybe it is in a way. It irks me to admit it, but I do trust you, Croft. I trust you to be true to yourself and your own brand of philosophy. But I'm not sure where that's going to leave me. I can't avoid the feeling of being used. The last time a man used me, it was easy to hate him,