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beating in her throat and the vertigo was making her head spin. So?
    “So this is your fire tower,” she breathed at the last step.
    “Honey, stop clutching the ladder like a lifeline,” he said mildly. “Just step up onto the platform. Honestly, you’ll be safe.”
    “It doesn’t have sides,” she observed.
    “There are at least eight square feet of solid floor up there, and I’ll be your sides.” His palm, most possessively, patted her rear end encouragingly.
    She crawled up onto the platform, pride never having been her strong point. The view, truthfully, was spectacular. Misted mountains climbed to the north and west, with a sterling-silver ball of a moon just rising over them. Beyond the woods, rolling wheat fields sprawled to the south and east, like a blanket stretched out in soft velvet folds. The stars were out, even though it wasn’t pitch-dark yet, and they were so close she felt she could touch them. As it happened, all she wanted to do was grab Mitch’s jacket.
    Her fingers clutched, and she heard his soft chuckle. “We can go right back down, you little liar. If I’d had any idea you were this scared of heights—”
    “I’m not, ” she insisted, and added demurely, “Where exactly is that wine we were carrying? I could use some Dutch courage.”
    “Coming. I zipped the bottle up inside my jacket.” Without releasing his firm grip on her wrist, Mitch sat in the center of the wooden floor, tugging Kay into the space between his thighs. She didn’t argue. With both arms around her, he managed to wrestle the wine from the bag and to get the cork out with a pocketknife corkscrew.
    “You’re a regular Boy Scout,” she remarked.
    “You can stop shaking anytime. There is no possible way I would let you fall.”
    Ignorant man. She was terrified of falling, but for the moment she was tingling simply from the feel of his thighs tucked around hers. His body was big, powerfully constructed and unbelievably warm. That heat was in direct contrast to the coolness of his wind-chilled cheek as he leaned forward to pour the Beaujolais into two plastic cups.
    Kay relaxed, feeling tucked up and enfolded like a gift-wrapped present. His touch was casual, meant to warm and reassure, not to turn her on. It was delightful to meet a man who didn’t spend all his time negotiating his way into bed. He actually showed old-fashioned symptoms of feeling pleasure just at being with her, no strings attached.
    Relaxed or not, Kay felt as though all the blood had drained from her head and settled lower…somewhere near where his thighs touched hers. Wanton fantasies were singing in her bloodstream, and the lyrics were “You’d be so nice to come home to…” She accepted a cup of wine with laudable calm. “You’ve been here before?” she questioned.
    “As a kid. It obviously hasn’t been used in ages, but fifteen years ago the tower was always manned during dry summers. In fall and winter, it was deserted, making a terrific place to go just to…think.”
    “Nonsense.” She took a sip of wine, loving the feel of the warm liquid soothing her throat.
    “Pardon?”
    “Don’t give me that ‘think’ stuff. You were a teenager when you came here. So you had a girl with you. And that’s why you came here. For the privacy.”
    There was silence behind her, and then his palm brushed her hair to one side. Very straight, very white teeth took an unexpected but gentle nip out of the nape of her neck. “Nancy White,” he murmured.
    “Ah-ha!” Kay said triumphantly.
    “Her father was a minister. Nancy was so darned willing…and her father was so darned mean,” Mitch said morosely. “Darned near got me kicked out of school.”
    “How old did you say you were?”
    “Fifteen.”
    “And you never got past first base?”
    “Second,” he corrected immediately.
    Kay chuckled.
    “I didn’t always come here with a girl,” he insisted. His voice turned quiet, pensive. “It was one of the few private places I