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temptation of making love with her. But what kind of bastard would become lovers with the wife of a man he had killed? His conscience pricked at the thought, and Kane found himself wishing the long-quiet voice of ethics had stayed silenced.
    When Danika settled into bed, drawing the pink and silver comforter up before removing her robe, his mouth watered. When the terrycloth appeared from underneath the covers, his breath stilled in his throat, waiting to see if she had been nude underneath. He released a harsh exhalation seconds later when he saw the white flannel top she wore. Odds were, she had matching pajama pants on too, so he didn’t have to torture himself with thoughts of her nudity while he sat with her.
    She turned her head to look at him, her silver eyes shadowed with fatigue and fear. Her lips opened, as if she was about to speak, but then she closed her mouth with a soft click, seeming not to want to talk after all.
    Kane settled into a hardback chair he took from the writing desk, placing it near her bed. Near enough to touch her, in fact. He could reach out to hold her hand, or slip under the covers and cup her breasts. A groan almost escaped him, but he smothered it in time, forcing his back against the rigid seat, hoping the delicate design of swirls would gouge through his skin and put some sense into him.
    He let the silence fill the room, and it lulled him into a near trance. Images of Danika’s body, spread across the bed, flashed through his mind, igniting his desire again. His cock swelled against the confines of his jeans, and the rough denim provided enough stimulation to be torturous, making him wish he had taken the time to add briefs before running to Danika’s rescue.
    “Kane?”
    Her soft voice made him blink, and for a moment, he saw the picture of her in his mind superimposed over her when he glanced down. He blinked again, struggling to dismiss the phantom Danika, who enticed him in a way he had never experienced before. “Yes?”
    “Are you angry about what happened yesterday afternoon?”
    Kane’s eyes widened. “No, of course not.” He shifted, discomforted by the topic. Part of him had hoped she would embrace the idea of forgetting it ever happened, while another part of him, just reawaking to emotion, couldn’t wait for her to initiate contact again. That unaccustomed side of him was trying to lead him into seducing the woman he had told himself he was only there to protect, and only because she reminded him of his sister.
    “But you wish I hadn’t reached out to you?” Although phrased as a question, her resigned tone indicated she had already arrived at an answer.
    “I didn’t say that.” What had he said? Nothing. As soon as he fled the dressing room, he had schooled his features to hide any trace of emotion and had maintained careful distance between them for the rest of the afternoon.
    Her gaze was intense when it locked with his. “I don’t believe you. If you wanted me, you wouldn’t have withdrawn into yourself.”
    A long sigh escaped him. Staring down at her, searching for an answer, Kane ran a hand through his short hair, disturbing the locks further. “Look, Danika, it isn’t you—“
    A harsh laugh issued from her, holding little amusement. “That means it is me.”
    He shook his head. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’d be crazy not to want you. I’m just not accustomed to what I’m feeling.” Kane shook his head again, frustrated by his inability to articulate what he meant. “Usually, it’s just sex for me. One night, maybe two, and we part. I don’t feel things for the women I take to bed. Can you understand that?”
    She nodded. Her expression was a perfect mask of coolness, but the moisture glinting in her eyes gave her away. “You don’t want me to expect anything, and since you work for me, you’re afraid I won’t be able to stop with one or two nights of sex and go back to a professional relationship.”
    “That concerns me, but