Charon's Crossing

"Just like that," she said, deliberately ignoring AIDS, Katie Rolphe, Gloria Steinem, and the ongoing debate on feminism.

"Really," Matthew said politely.

"Really."

"Let me be sure I have this right. What you are saying, then, is that you simply do not want to sleep with your Jason. Is that correct?"

Kathryn smothered a groan. It was check, but not mate.

"Not today, no."

"Because I'm here."

"Yes."

He smiled. "I cannot pass the boundaries of Charon's Crossing, but the estate covers lots of ground. Just say the word and you won't see me again for the rest of the weekend."

"What do you mean, you can't pass the boundaries of Charon's Crossing?"

"I mean exactly what I said, madam, and please don't change the subject. Do you wish me to make myself absent?"

Now, it was check and mate. She glared at him and then she pulled open a drawer and began taking out heavy damask napkins and silverware.

"Thank you for the offer, but my sex life is not dependent on your decisions."

Matthew let out his breath. And a damned good thing it wasn't, he thought fiercely, because he had no intention of leaving so she could fall into bed with that priapic fool upstairs.

Hell. Hell! Why were things getting so damned complicated?

"What is it dependent on, then?" he asked, pleased with the calmness of his voice. He reached out, took a slice of tomato from the platter, and put it in his mouth. The taste was ambrosial. "Poor Jason seemed quite filled with need."

Kathryn slapped his hand as he reached for another piece of tomato.

"Jason's needs, and mine, are none of your concern."

"I suppose not." He knew she was right, but that wouldn't stop him. He wanted to hear her admit that she'd melted like the molasses in a hot rum toddy in his arms and not in those of the man to whom she was betrothed.

Call it ego. Call it the frustration of a man who'd been celibate three times longer than most men lived. Call it the madness that had been driving him ever since he'd kissed her...

He wanted to hear her say it. Dammit, he wanted to have her show it, to go into his arms and lift that soft, sweet mouth to his, and to hell with whether it was logical or not.

He rose to his feet, kicked back the chair, and went to her.

"Kathryn."

Kathryn's heart skipped a beat. Matthew was right behind her. She could feel the brush of his body against hers, the whisper of his breath stirring her hair. Nothing they'd said for the past half hour had been pleasant or even polite, and suddenly she knew why.

It had nothing to do with Jason.

What it had to do with was the river of flame running between them.

Matthew had not touched her in days but that didn't keep her from remembering the taste of his mouth or the heat of his body. She remembered what it was like to be in his arms, to feel his hand seeking the thrusting curve of her breast.

He whispered her name again and his arms went around her. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as he nuzzled her hair away from her throat and pressed his lips to her skin.

"No," she whispered, but she was already turning in his arms.

"Yes," he said, and then he was kissing her and there was no point in pretending it wasn't what she wanted, what she'd longed for since that first incredible dream. She breathed her su