Time and Again

relationship with Sunny Stone.
    He had only two purposes for being where he was. The first and most important was to find his brother.
    The second was to gather as much data as possible about this era. Sunny Stone was data, and she couldn't be anything else.
    But he wanted her. It was unscientific, but it was very real. It was also illogical. How could he want to be with a woman who annoyed him as much as she amused him? Why should he care about a woman he had so little in common with? Centuries separated them. Her world, while fascinating in a clinical sense, frustrated the hell out of him. She frustrated the hell out of him.
    The best thing to do was to get back to his ship, program his computers and go home. If it weren't for Cal, he would do so. He wanted to think it was only Cal that stopped him.
    Meticulously, he disengaged the computer and pocketed his mini. When he returned downstairs, she was still sleeping. Moving quietly, he put another log on the fire, then sat on the floor beside her.
    Hours passed, but he didn't bother to wake her. He was used to functioning on little or no sleep. For more than a year his average workday had run eighteen hours. The closer he had come to the final equations for time travel, the more he had pushed. And he had succeeded, he thought as he watched the flames eat the wood. He was here. Of course, even with his meticulous computations, he had come several months too late.
    Cal was married, of all things. And if Sunny was to be believed, he was happy and settled. It would be that much more difficult for Jacob to make him see reason. But he would make him see it.
    He had to see it, Jacob told himself. It was as clear as glass. A man belonged in his own time. There were reasons, purposes. Beyond what science could do, there was a pattern. If a man chose to break that pattern, the ripple effects on the rest of the universe couldn't be calculated.
    So he would take his brother back to where they both belonged. And Cal would soon forget the woman called Libby. Just as Jacob was determined to forget Sunbeam Stone.
    She stirred then, with a soft, sighing sound that tingled along his skin. Despite his better judgment, he looked down and watched her wake.
    Her lashes fluttered open and closed, as exotic as butterfly wings in the shadowed light. Her eyes, dazed with sleep, were huge and dark. She didn't see him, but stared blindly into the flickering flame as she slowly stretched her long, lean body, muscle by muscle. The bulky purple sweater shifted over her curves.
    His mouth went dry. His heartbeat accelerated. He would have cursed her, but he lacked the strength.
    At that moment she was so outrageously beautiful that he could only sit, tensed, and pray for sanity.
    She let out a little moan. He winced. She shifted onto her back, lifting her arms over her head, then up to the ceiling. For the first time in his life he actively wished for a drink.
    At last she turned her head and focused on him. "Why didn't you wake me?"
    Her voice was low, throaty. Jacob was certain he could feel his blood drain to the soles of his feet. "I-"
    It was ridiculous, but he could barely speak. "I wasn't tired."
    "That's not the point." She sat up and said crankily, "We're in this together, so-"
    He didn't think. Later, when he had time to analyze, he would tell himself it was reflex-the same involuntary reflex that makes a man swallow when water is poured down his throat. It was not deliberate.
    It was not planned. It was certainly not wise.
    He pulled her against him, dragging one hand through her hair before closing his mouth over hers. She bucked, both surprise and anger giving her strength. But he only tightened his hold. It was desperation this time, a sensation he could not remember ever having felt for a woman. It was taste her or die.
    She struggled to cling to her anger as dozens of sensations fought for control of her. Delight, desire, delirium. She tried to curse him, but managed only a moan of pleasure. Then her hands were in his hair, clenching, and her heart was pounding. In one quick movement he drew her onto his lap and drove her beyond.
    His breath was ragged, as was hers. His mouth frantic, his hands quick. Left without choice, she answered, as insistent, as insatiable, as he. A log broke apart, sparks flew to dance on stone. The wind gusted, pushing a puff of smoke into the room. She heard only the urgent groan that slipped from his mouth into hers.
    Was this what she had been searching