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she managed.
    â€œHow would you like me to look at you?”
    â€œIt isn’t necessary for you to look at all.”
    â€œBut it is.” He could feel it again, that high-strung passion, just waiting to burst free from whatever cell she had locked it in. “You’ll be sitting right in front of me tomorrow night in class.”
    â€œI’m going to transfer.”
    â€œNo, you won’t.” He brushed a finger over the small gold hoop in her ear. “You enjoyed it too much. I could see the wheels turning in that fabulous head of yours. And if you did,” he continued before she could sputter out a response, “I’d just make a nuisance of myself in your shop.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause you’re the first woman I’ve wanted in longer than I can remember.”
    Excitement rippled up her spine like chain lightning. Before she could prevent it, the memory of that stormy kiss curved back to weaken her. Yes, that had been a man who had wanted. And had, no matter how she had resisted, made her want, too.
    But that had only been one kiss, fueled by lust despite the moonlight and soft air. She knew heartbreakingly well where such desires could lead.
    â€œThat’s nonsense.”
    â€œSimple honesty,” he murmured, fascinated by the emotions that came and went in her dark eyes. “I thought it best, since we’d gotten off to such a shaky beginning. Since you’ve determined for yourself that I’m not married, knowing I’m attracted to you shouldn’t insult you.”
    â€œI’m not insulted,” she said carefully. “I’m just not interested.”
    â€œDo you always kiss men you’re not interested in?”
    â€œI didn’t kiss you.” She jerked her hand free. “You kissed me.”
    â€œWe can fix that.” He gathered her close. “This time kiss me back.”
    She could have pulled away. His arms weren’t banding her as they had before, but were wrapped loosely, coaxingly around her. His lips were soft this time, soft, persuasive, patient. She could feel the warmth seep into her bloodstream like a drug. With a little moan, she slipped her hands up his back and held on.
    It was like holding a candle and feeling the wax slowly melt as the fire burned at its center. He could feel her yield degree by degree until her lips parted for his own, accepting, inviting. But even as she gave, he could sense some strong, hard core that resisted, held back. She didn’t want to feel whatever he was making her feel.
    Impatient, he dragged her closer. Though her body molded itself to his and her head fell back in erotic surrender, there was still a part of her standing just out of his reach. What she gave him only stirred his appetite for more.
    She was breathless when he released her. It took an effort, too much of an effort, Natasha thought, to level herself. But once she had, her voice was steady.
    â€œI don’t want to be involved.”
    â€œWith me, or with anyone?”
    â€œWith anyone.”
    â€œGood.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “It’ll be simpler to change your mind.”
    â€œI’m very stubborn,” she muttered.
    â€œYes, I’ve noticed. Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAll right. I’ll take you to dinner Saturday night.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSeven-thirty. I’ll pick you up.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t want me to come by the shop Saturday afternoon and embarrass you.”
    Out of patience, she stalked to the door. “I can’t understand how a man that could play music with such sensitivity could be such a clod.”
    Just lucky, I guess, he thought when the door slammed. Alone again, he caught himself whistling.

C HAPTER F OUR
    S aturdays in a toy store were noisy, crowded and chaotic. They were supposed to be. To a child even the word Saturday was magic—it meant a