For years shed thought of nothing but the past; shed worried about it, agonized over it, tried to atone for it. Now, for once, she wanted to think about the present.
Before she could change her mind, she knocked.
"Come on in," came Mad Dogs deep, masculine voice.
Marians knees almost buckled. She jerked her chin up and opened the door.
On the bed, in a pool of golden light amidst a mass of wrinkled white sheets, lay Mad Dog. He was sprawled casually across the mattress, one leg stretched out, one leg bent, with the Turkish towel across his midsection.
Surprise flashed through his eyes. "Mariah. " He said her name in disbelief. Then came the smile, a slow, steady curving of lips that made Marians heartbeat quicken.
She swallowed hard and tried to smile back. She almost succeeded. "Am I going to regret this?" she asked in a voice so quiet and shaking, she wondered if he could hear it.
He sat up straighten Across the wide expanse of wrinkled sheets and naked skin, their eyes met. There was no laughter in his gaze this time, only a searing honesty.
"Probably. "
"Will you?"
He grinned. "Probably not. "
In that instant, with that answer, Mariah felt her last crumbling remnant of resistance disappear. She laughed, and it was a musical, velvety sound that surprised her. "Mr.
Stone, I do so admire your honesty. "
It was true, she realized. Thats what had drawn her to Mad Dog, what drew her now. It wasnt his handsome face or ready smile or teasing words. It was his honesty.
He was recklessly, fearlessly honest. His integrity touched something in her, made her yearn for the days when she, too, used to be forthright. Unafraid.
She wanted that again, wanted it with a desperation that left her winded. And maybe, with Mad Dog beside her—even for a fleeting night of passion—she could find that kind of honesty within herself again.
And she was going to start right now.
She looked at Mad Dog, an honest, wide-eyed stare that held nothing back. "I want you, too. "
Chapter Sixteen
Holy shit, she was serious.
Mad Dog sat up, yanking the towel tighter against his hips.
She was standing in the open doorway, as stiff as a blade, her hands balled at her waist. Fear had pulled the color from her skin and tightened her full lips into a thin, quivering line. With the moonlight drizzling through the doorway and bathing her in elysian light, she looked young and frightened and impossibly vulnerable.
Vulnerable.
He bit off a curse. Christ, she was such an innocent, standing there, quietly asking for something she couldnt possibly understand. He could give it to her— longed to give it to her—but she wouldnt be able to live with the consequences. And, surprisingly, he wasnt sure that he could, either. He liked Mariah, genuinely, honestly liked her. He didnt want to hurt her. She wasnt the kind of woman for him. She didnt deserve to be dallied with and then deserted. She deserved better than he could give her.
That shocked the shit out of him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. For the first time in his life, he was going to be a goddamn hero. He couldnt believe it.
He tightened the towel around his waist and eased carefully from the bed, walking slowly toward her.
She didnt back away, just stood there, as still as stone, haloed by ivory moonlight, her huge eyes focused on his face. A tiny pulse beat frantically at the base of her throat.
"Go home, Mariah. "
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them slowly. "Dont make this any harder on me. Please. "
The soft plea coiled around his heart and squeezed until it hurt to breathe. "You dont know what youre asking. . . . "