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curious sidelong look from him. Why would she want to escape from a paradise like this? But her eyes remained closed, indicating this was not the time to ask.
    "Try it," she invited in a coaxing voice.
    Sam shut his eyes, but all he could focus on was the heat of Maddy's arm where it brushed his.
    "What do you picture?" she asked him.
    With a frown of concentration, he cleared his thoughts until an image formed in his mind. "I see a village springing up at the edge of a river in Nigeria." He'd been there recently on an op that had left some key insurgents extremely dead.
    "Where there's water, there's life," she agreed, oblivious to his gory memories. She turned toward him causing his eyes to spring open and his pulse to leap. "Without food, clean water, sustainable crops, and access to health care, life is little more than a struggle for survival."
    Sam hadn't envisioned their conversation taking this turn. Once again, she'd managed to surprise him, her words disturbingly portentous.
    "Tell me you are not going overseas again," he exhorted.
    "Actually, my father just got me a job with The Global Environment Facility. GEF is an international group that addresses environmental issues in developing countries. I'll be testing the impact of oil wells on the environment."
    "Overseas?" he queried. The part about developing countries had tipped him off.
    "Of course."
    "You know, there are plenty of environmental issues right here in the United States," he pointed out. "You don't need to head overseas to make a difference."
    She tossed her head. "That's like saying we have home-grown terrorists, so there's no need to chase after Al Qaeda," she countered sweetly.
    Sam gripped the wooden railing until his knuckles ached. "Why do we argue every time we talk?" he wondered out loud. He would rather be finding out if she was wearing any underwear.
    "I have no idea. Maybe it's because you think you have a right to tell me how to live my life."
    His temples throbbed. She had to be goading him. "Obviously, you don't realize how small and defenseless you are," he concluded.
    She tossed her head and glared at him. "Is that a threat?"
    "What if it is?" One minute he was gripping the railing; the next, he was pulling her forcibly against him, crushing her breasts to his chest where his heart pounded with desire and frustration mixed. He didn't feel a bra.
    "You don't scare me." The barest quaver in her voice undermined her taunt.
    He'd never in his life forced himself on a woman. But in the culture in which he was raised, it was men who faced down danger. Women were meant to be sheltered from natural predators—mainly, other males. "You should be scared," he declared, overcoming her feeble efforts to free herself by holding her more tightly. "You think being an American gives you inalienable rights outside of this country?"
    "I've traveled extensively. Of course I know that's not the case."
    "Then you've been lucky. What happens when your luck runs out, and some man decides to abduct you and lock you up, sell you into the black market, or keep you for himself for as long as you bring him pleasure?" With every word, he inclined his head closer until his lips hovered threateningly over hers.
    He could feel her trembling. Her eyes, luminous pools, resembled the blue gray waters surrounding Miami.
    "Is that what you'd like to do?" she whispered.
    Her words sobered Sam immediately. What am I doing? Realizing his grip on her arms was bound to leave marks, he abruptly released her.
    * * *
    Without Sam's arms to hold her upright, Maddy staggered backward only to be caught a second time and set her on her feet. His hands slid away, making her yearn again for contact.
    Silence followed, charged with an undercurrent of excitement, desire, and frustration. Maybe she'd misjudged Sam Sasseville. She had thought for certain that if she explained her motives to him in just the right way, emphasizing how much they had in common, then he would understand. For