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pressure she was used to in the U.S., she was still feeling defensive.
    By the time she’d rinsed out the shampoo, though, her mood had metamorphosed from defensive to morose. Truth was, she would have liked to hide behind Will’s couch indefinitely. At least for a few weeks. She didn’t know what was happening to her. It was totally impossible that she’d cheated on Jason. It was even more impossible that she’d just made love with a stranger.
    More confounding yet, something in her heart, deep down, kept beating the quiet, sure pulse that something about Will was right. Really right. In a way that nothing had ever been this right in her life before.
    By the time she’d stepped out of the shower and was pulling on fresh clothes…fresh, wrinkled clothes, straight from the suitcase…she was thinking herself into circles.
    Maybe Will wasn’t right. Maybe, instead, a massive flaw in her character had just shown up. Maybe somewhere deep inside her, she’d always been a cheater. A piker. A moral-less slut. And the potential had just never shown up before now.
    God. It was enough to send a girl into a deep depression.
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    W HEN K ELLY WALKED into the kitchen, Will took one look at her expression and mentally sighed. She looked adorable. For a woman with no boobs or butt, she gave off an amazing amount of feminine-ismo—the girl version of machismo. She was just so pure female, from the arch of her shoulders, to the way she walked, to the way she tilted her head. But she’d opted to wear a summer skirt and top, and the pale top was noticeably buttoned to the neck, the denim skirt noticeably oversize. She wasn’t in any hurry to look at him, either.
    Last night they’d rocked the walls. Will couldn’t remember more stupendous sex. Yeah, she’d started out shy, but that had been fun to coax out of her. Once her engine was started, she was high performance all the way, knew what worked for her and let him work damn hard to give it to her. Talk about delicious.
    Not that he wasn’t a major fan of sex before—and any sex was better than none—but the good stuff just never happened until you were into a relationship, where the woman knew you well enough to bring down the inhibitions and go for it.
    With Kelly, he couldn’t explain or understand it, but it was as if they already had that kind of gut-level trust, had known each other forever. He’d gone to sleep wanting her again. Woken up wanting her. Found her hiding behind the couch and suffered yet another hard-on just looking at her.
    Given her cover-up clothes and shyness now, though, she clearly didn’t feel the same. Either he’d flunked in her bed-scoring class, or…or…or hell, he didn’t know what.
    â€œYou need coffee,” he said, hoping to ward off conversation. Particularly the kind of conversation that was going to be some kind of rehash of what last night had meant.
    â€œI need to call my mother again.”
    â€œI know you do. You’ve got a whole list of have-to’s waiting for you. But it’s the weekend. Hopefully you’re going to reach your mom, get the paperwork going, get some money. Maybe we can even pick up the police report. But unless someone who’s worth a few billion is dying, the embassy and consulate will be closed tighter than a drum until Monday. So you might as well have some coffee. Some breakfast. And after that…”
    â€œAfter that what?” she asked, as warily as a rabbit in a fox’s lair.
    â€œAfter that, we might as well do more Paris.”
    He didn’t exactly have a plan, other than knowing she had to get the stolen-passport business moving or she was going to go nuts. The other major fret on her mind was her mom. Will pretty easily pictured her mother as an independent type, who could easily have shot off to see a friend or do a shopping spree for a couple of days, because Kelly kept saying there