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Trent bent down to look himself and got an eyeful of long, slim leg. “Ah...” He cleared his throat and trained his eyes on the floor. “Here you go.” He took both, then straightening, smiled at her. “Put your foot out I'll give you a hand.” He watched her as he slipped the shoes onto her feet and remembered that he'd once thought she would never stand for being a Cinderella. He trailed his finger up her instep and caught the flicker in her eyes. The flicker of desire that, no matter what common sense told him, he very much wanted.

“Have I mentioned that you have truly incredible legs?”

“No.” She had one hand balled in a fist at her side and struggled to concentrate on it rather than the sensations his touch had spurting through her. “It's nice of you to notice.”

“It's difficult not to. They're the only ones I've known that look sexy in coveralls.”

Ignoring the thud of her own heart, she leaned toward him. “That reminds me.”

He could kiss her now, he thought. He had only to shift a mere inch to have his mouth on hers, where he wanted it. “What?”

“I don't think your shocks have more than another couple thousand miles on them.” With a smile, she rose. “I'd look into that when you get home.” Pleased with herself, C.C. started out ahead of him.

When they settled in the car, she congratulated herself. A very successful evening all in all, she thought. Maybe he wasn't miserable, as she was, but she was damn sure she'd made him uncomfortable a time or two. He'd go back to Boston the next day.... She turned to stare out the window until she was certain she could deal with the pain. He'd go back, but he wouldn't forget her quickly or easily. His last impression of her would be one of a composed, self-contained woman in a sexy red dress. Better, C.C. decided, much better than the picture of a mechanic in coveralls with grease on her hands.

More importantly, she'd proven something to herself. She could love, and she could let go.

She looked up as the car started to climb. She could see the shadowy peaks of the two towers spearing into the night sky. Trent slowed the car as he looked, as well.

“The light's on in Bianca's tower.”

“Lilah,” C.C. murmured. “She often sits up there.” She thought of her sister sitting by the window, looking out into the night. “You won't tear it down, will you?”

“No.” Understanding more than she knew, he closed his hand over hers. “I promise you it won't be torn down.”

The house disappeared as the road curved away, then all but filled the view. They could hear the beat and slap of the sea as they looked at it. Lights were sprinkled on throughout, glowing against the dull gray stone. A slender shadow moved in front of the tower window, stood for a moment, then slid away.

Inside, Lilah called down the stairs. 'They're back.” Four women raced to the windows to peer out.

“We shouldn't spy on them,” Suzanna murmured, but moved the curtain aside a bit more.

“We're not.” Amanda strained her eyes. “We're just checking, that's all. Can you see anything?”

“They're still in the car,” Coco complained. “How are we supposed to see what's going on if they're going to sit in the car?”

“We could use our imaginations.” Lilah shook her hair back. “If that man isn't begging her to go to Boston with him, then he really is a jerk.”

“To Boston?” Alarmed, Suzanna glanced over. “You don't think she'd go to Boston, do you?”

“She'd go to the Ukraine if he had the sense to ask her,” Amanda commented. “Look, they're getting out.”

“Maybe if we just cracked a window a little bit, we could hear—” “Aunt Coco, that's ridiculous.” Lilah clucked her tongue.

“You're right, of course.” Color tinged Coco's cheek.

“Of course I'm right. They'd hear the windows creak if we tried.” Grinning, she pressed her face against the glass. “We'll just have to read their lips.”

“This was nice,” C.C. said as she stepped out of the car. “I haven't been out to dinner in a while.”

“You had dinner with Finney.”

She gave him a blank look, then laughed. “Oh, Finney, sure.” The breeze played with her bangs as she smiled. “You've got quite a memory.”

“Some things seem to stick to it.” The jealousy he felt was, unfortunately, no memory. “Doesn't he ever take you out?”

“Finney? No, I just go to his place.”

Frustrated, Trent jammed his hands into his pockets. “He should take you out.”

She smothered a chuckle as the image of old Albert Finney escorting her to a restaurant ran through her mind. “I'll be sure to mention it to him.” She turned to start up the steps.

“Catherine, don't go in yet.” He took her hands. At the windows four pairs of eyes narrowed. “It's late, Trent.”

“I don't know if I'll see you again before I leave.”

It took all her strength to keep her eyes steady. “Then we'll say goodbye now.”

“I need to see you again.”

“The shop's open at eight-thirty. I'll be there.”

“Damn it, C.C., you know what I mean.” His hands were on her shoulders now.

“No, I don't.”

“Come to Boston.” He blurted it out, shocking himself while she stood calmly waiting.

“Why?”

To give himself a moment to find control again, he stepped back. “I could show you around.” How much more inane could he get? Trent wondered. How much more beautiful could she look? “You said you'd never been. We could...have some time together.”

Inside her wrap, she shivered, but her voice was calm and smooth. “Are you asking me to come to Boston and have an affair with you?”

“No. Yes. Oh, Lord. Just wait.” He turned to pace a few steps away and breathe.

Inside, Lilah smiled. “Why, he's in love with her after all, but he's too stupid to know it.”

“Shh!” Coco waved a hand. “I can almost hear what they're saying.” She had an ear at the base of the water glass she pressed up to the window.

At the bottom of the steps, Trent tried again. “Nothing I begin ends the way I expect it to when I'm with you.” He turned back. She was still standing with the house behind her, the dress glimmering like liquid tire in the dark. “I know I have no business asking you, and I didn't intend to. I intended to say a very civil goodbye and let you go.”

“And now?”

“Now I want to make love with you more than I want to go on breathing.” “To make love,” C.C. repeated steadily. “But you don't love me.”

“I don't know anything about love. I care for you.” He walked back to touch a hand to her face. “Maybe that could be enough.”

She studied him, realizing he didn't have any idea that he was breaking an already shattered heart. “It might be, for a day or a week or a month. But you were right about me, Trent. I expect more. I deserve more.” Keeping her eyes on his, she slid her hands over his shoulders. “I offered myself to you- once. That won't happen again. And neither will this.”

She pressed her mouth against his, pouring every scrap of her tattered emotions into it Her arms enfolded him even as her body swayed seductively toward his. With a sigh, her lips parted, inviting him to take.

Off balance, needy, he dragged her head back and plundered. Unsteady, his hands skimmed beneath her wrap, urgently seeking the warmth of her skin.

So many feelings, too many feelings, bombarded him. He wanted only to fill himself with the taste of her. But there was more. She wouldn't let him take only the kiss, but all the emotion that went with it. He felt he was drowning in it, but it was so strong and heady a flood, he couldn't fight.

Love me! Why can't you love me? Her mind seemed to scream it even as she was borne away on the tide of her own longings. Everything she wanted was here, inside the circle of her arms. Everything but his heart.