The Villa

right up." He grazed a fingertip over her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. "I like your dress."
    "Thank you. I put it on to torment you."
    "Figured that." His gaze met hers. "Bull's-eye."
    She leaned over for the bottle again, filled his glass. When it came to sexual skirmishes, she considered herself a veteran. "We agreed that part of our relationship was over."
    "No, you were having a snit about something, and I let you."
    "A snit." She dipped a fingertip in her wine, tapped it gently on her tongue. "I don't have snits."
    "Yeah, you do. All the time. You've always been a brat. A really sexy brat. And for the last while, you've had some pretty rough times."
    The spine he'd just complimented her on stiffened. "I'm not looking for your sympathy, MacMillan, or your tolerance."
    "See." His grin, a calculated insult, flashed. "You're working up toward a snit."
    Temper snuck up her backbone, added heat to rigidity. "Let me tell you something; if this is your idea of a seduction, it's a wonder you've ever scored with a woman."
    "Here's a difference between me and most of the men you know." His legs were stretched out, his voice lazy. "I don't keep score. I don't think about you like a notch on the bedpost, or a trophy."
    "Oh yes, Tyler MacMillan. High-minded, moralistic, reasonable ."
    Again he grinned at her, but this time it was full of fun. "You think that insults me? You're just using temper as a defense. It's your mechanism. Mostly I don't mind much giving it right back to you, but I'm not in the mood for a fight. I want to make love with you, starting out here, slow, and working our way in, upstairs into that great, big bed in your room."
    "When I want you in my bed, you'll know it."
    "Exactly." Taking his time, he rose, pulled her to her feet. "You're really stuck on me, aren't you?"
    "Stuck?" Her mouth would have fallen open if she hadn't been so busy sneering. "Please. You'll embarrass yourself."
    "Crazy about me." He slipped his arms around her, chuckling when she pushed against his chest and arched away. "I saw you today, more than once, standing at the window looking at me."
    "I don't know what you're talking about. I might have looked out the window."
    "Looking at me," he continued, slowly drawing her against him. "The way I was looking at you. Wanting me." He nuzzled gently at her neck. "The way I was wanting you. And more." His lips brushed her cheek as she turned her head away. "There's more than the wanting between us."
    "There's nothing—" She gasped when his hand squeezed the back of her neck, then moaned when his mouth crushed down on hers.
    "If it was just this, just the heat, you wouldn't be so scared."
    "I'm not afraid of anything."
    He eased back. "You don't need to be. I'm not going to hurt you."
    She shook her head, but his lips came back to hers again. Gentle now, and unbearably kind. No, she thought as she softened against him. He wouldn't hurt her. But she was bound to hurt him.
    'Ty." She started to push at him again, and ended by gripping his shirt. She'd missed this, the warmth he brought into her. Those twisted sensations of risk and safety. "This is a mistake."
    "It doesn't feel like one. You know what I think?" He lifted her into his arms. "I think it's stupid to argue, especially when we both know I'm right."
    "Stop it. You're not carrying me into the house. The staff will gossip about it for weeks."
    "I figure they've already laid bets on how this was going to turn out." He elbowed open a door. "And if you don't want servants talking about what you do, you shouldn't have servants. When we get home, I figure you should move in with me. Then it'll be nobody's business what we do."
    "Move—move in with you? Have you lost your mind? Put me down, Ty. I'm not going to be carried up the steps like a heroine in a romance novel."
    "You don't like it? Okay, we'll do it this way." He shifted, hauling her up and over his shoulder. "Better?"
    "This isn't funny."
    "Baby." He patted her butt. "It is from where I'm standing. Anyway, there's plenty of room for your stuff at my place. Got three extra bedrooms with empty closets. That ought to be enough for your clothes."
    "I'm not moving in with you."
    "Yes, you are." He walked into her bedroom, kicked the door shut behind him. He had to give the staff credit. He hadn't seen one of them on the trip upstairs. Hadn't heard a peep. He gave Sophia full marks, too. She wasn't kicking and screaming. Too much class, he supposed as, still carrying her,